Chapter Eleven

~My Life~


~**~


Buffy listened intently as Spike began to tell her of her past. She didn’t know what time it was, didn’t much care. All she was focused on was the sound of Spike’s deep, even voice as he told her the story of her life.

It was odd, having someone tell you the events of your life, almost like standing outside of yourself, getting a tiny glimpse of someone else’s memories…only they weren’t someone else’s…they were hers.

Buffy dismissed the unsettled feeling that washed over her and concentrated on the sound of Spike’s voice. She settled her body closer to his, pressed her cheek to his chest, and listened to his voice reverberating inside her ears as he continued to speak…


~**~

“I saw you for the first time at ‘The Bronze’ with your pals in Sunnydale. You were just a mere slip of a girl, The Slayer, and I was gunnin’ for my next kill…Big Bad and all,” Spike explained, lowering his head slightly to glimpse at Buffy, whose eyes stared up at him expectantly from where her head rested on his chest.

“Big Bad?” she asked, with a lift of her eyebrows.

Spike grinned down at Buffy unabashedly, savoring the sound of the nickname as it tumbled from her lips. It still turned him on when she called him that and he couldn’t deny the heat that swept over his body.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, the grin widening, “Big Bad…what I was then. You like that, pet?” Buffy’s eyes lowered shyly.

“Guess I do. It’s…I don’t know…kinda hot,” Buffy admitted, picking imaginary lint off the blanket that covered them as she avoided his eyes. Spike smiled to himself and shook his head and then took a serious tone as he continued.

“Well that wasn’t exactly your sentiment then, love. We were bitter enemies from the get-go, you and me,” Spike went on, staring ahead thoughtfully as his mind brought him back to those days.

Big Bad, indeed.

Back then it had been he and Drusilla, painting the town red. They’d come to Sunnydale seeking a cure for her ailment after the mob attack in Prague.

He’d been such a monster then, with one thing and one thing alone on his mind.

Killing his third Slayer.

Spike’s mind drifted back to the night he had first encountered Buffy, out with her pals at ‘The Bronze’. He’d been curious about the new ‘Chosen One’ and had wanted to get a look for himself, to see what he was up against…


~**~
Sunnydale: 1997…


The night was fresh and young. The streets of Sunnydale fairly teemed with activity, with humans young and old, like berries ripe on the vine…just waiting for the right vamp to come along and pick them off one by one.

Right place. Right time…


~**~

Spike had never felt more alive than he did this night, even though he’d been dead for more than a hundred years. He’d left Drusilla at the factory, she was still weak and hardly able to move around, plus he was growing a little weary of her nattering…the crazy ramblings of a not so stable mind. It wore on him sometimes the way she acted.

All he needed to cure him of that was some fresh human blood…would fix him right up. Plus, an added bonus…

The Slayer lived in this town.

Her blood seemed to draw Spike, call out to him. Her scent swirled intoxicatingly around his senses, taunting him, begging him to find her and sink his teeth into her nubile flesh… have himself a good day.

Spike could almost taste the sweetness; feel the texture of her blood as it filled his mouth. It was then that he realized that his mouth had begun to water.

Sounds penetrated his sensitive vampire hearing as he neared a night club of some sort. The sign above the entrance denoted that it was called ‘The Bronze’ and judging by the steady stream of young people that flowed in and out of the building; it was ‘the’ place to be.

Spike liked this town already.

He slipped unnoticed past the bouncer covering the door, already formulating his plan for attack as he entered the club, the crush of the teenage crowd pushing at him from all sides.

Spike sussed out the myriad of scents that assailed him, searching for the one he wanted, the one he craved. His eyes searched the room casually…always had to keep a low-profile when you were on the prowl…didn’t need any unnecessary attention directed his way.

There was nothing that could stop the inevitable.

Spike would have the Slayer and he would have her tonight.

At that moment, he spotted her…sitting at a table surrounded by a small group of people…her friends. Spike did a double take.

‘What the bloody hell’? he thought to himself with a frown. ‘A Slayer…with friends? Somethin’ definitely wrong with this picture.’ He sauntered to a darkened corner and continued to study his foe.

She was built like the other Slayers he’d encountered, with a muscular and compact figure. Spike cocked his head to the side slightly, continuing his perusal. His eyes dragged over her body slowly, finding that he was appreciating what he was seeing.

This feeling unnerved him and intrigued him all at once.

He watched as she tipped her head back and laughed at something one of her chums said, the action exposing the smooth column of her throat.

Spike swallowed hard.

Shaking his head to clear it, he dragged his mind back to the plan. Distract the Slayer, kill the Slayer. Bring her back to Drusilla where they’d both suck her dry, swim in her blood.

Now, Spike was grinning…

What he didn’t expect was for her to get up from the table, take the hand of the male by her side and drag him to his feet. They headed toward the crowd on the dance floor and joined them, moving their bodies to the rhythm of the music that pulsated around the club.

Rather puzzling it was.

This was an odd and unsettling situation for Spike. Seeing this Slayer acting…well…acting like a normal human being, who cut loose with friends, who wasn’t thinking about the fight or the kill all the time.

A large grin spread across his face as a realization dawned on him.

This was bloody perfect…

Now was the time to act.

“Where's the phone? I need to call the police. There's some big
guy out there trying to bite somebody!”


~**~


Spike watched her from the shadows in the alleyway, marveling at the skill and precision of this new Slayer. It didn’t take her long to get the upper hand with his boys and Spike found himself remembering another Slayer…in another time…another dance.

This was going to be fun.

He waited until the right moment to step out and reveal himself, unable to hide the grin from his face as he stepped into her line of vision, clapping his hands. Facing his adversary he reveled in the confusion and shock that painted her features.

She would do nicely.

“Nice work, love.”

“Who are you?”

“You'll find out on Saturday.”

“What happens on Saturday?”

“I kill you.”


~**~


Spike stopped talking and stared into space a moment. Buffy had grown silent at his side and inwardly he cringed. Maybe he’d gone a little too far in the descriptive department, probably frightened the poor girl. He darted a quick glance in her direction, looking away when he saw her eyes fall to her hands, her front teeth sink down onto her lower lip as she contemplated Spike’s story. He immediately felt guilt, strong and swift sweep over him. He’d definitely gone too far.

“What is it, love?” he asked gently. “I’m sorry if I--”

“No, Spike,” Buffy cut him off as she shook her head. “It’s not that. I just didn’t realize…I mean…ugh!” she let out an exasperated sigh and lifted her eyes. “When you said you were a monster…well…I thought you were being metaphorical…guess I was wrong.”

Spike shook his head.

“Bein’ a vampire’s not a fairytale, love. It’s about blood…about the kill…’bout not havin’ a soul,” Spike said gently. “Got a soul now, pet. Things changed.” Buffy seemed to think this over a minute and then lifted her eyes.

“Wesley said something about you having a chip in your head…so I’m guessing that was pre-soul, right?” Spike sighed and shook his head as memories of those days flooded his brain. He’d felt a like a dog on a leash…inadequate…couldn’t be a monster…couldn’t be a man.

The frustration.

The anger.

Spike stared into Buffy’s eyes and then cleared his throat.

“What else did that ponce Wesley tell you, love?” Spike asked with a frown. Buffy lifted her shoulder.

“Mmm…just the basics…once you were the…Big Bad…and then you got chipped…got the soul and now here you are. That was pretty much the long and short of it. Why?”

Spike silently dipped his head, avoiding Buffy’s piercing stare. It was overwhelming…just a little…the way she gazed at him…as if he were a font of information, a wellspring for her memories.

Did he want to tell her these things?

Why did he feel like he wanted to hold back?

Spike squeezed his eyes shut at the torrent of emotions that assaulted him. Her dream had vividly displayed to him that she was ready to know the truth, ready to walk upon the broken path that would lead her straight to…what?

Knowledge.

Understanding.

Spike’s thoughts were beginning to frighten him a little and the more he maintained his silence the more Buffy was going to get concerned.

Speak or forever hold your peace, Spike thought to himself wryly. He lifted his head and turned to face Buffy who was giving Spike a questioning glance.

“Spike?” she asked softly. “You went away there for a minute. Don’t stop. I want to know more.”

Bloody hell.

“Alright then, love. Give us a minute, ok?”

“Ok.”


~*~

There were not enough hours in the night to weave the tapestry of the myriad details of a Slayer’s complicated life, but Spike did the best he could until it felt as if his eyes could no longer remain opened.

A wayward glance in Buffy’s direction showed that she herself had tired quickly, because she had fallen asleep as Spike had been speaking. He’d been right in the middle of telling her about their shaky truce regarding Angelus when she conked out and Spike was grateful.

He hated to talk about her past relationship with Angel, even saying his name caused the bile to rise in his throat, the tension to rest on his shoulders.

Now dawn was breaking.

Spike’s throat hurt from talking for so long and every muscle in his body ached from sitting in one position for the extended period of time that he’d been relaying information to Buffy about her past.

Slowly, he eased himself from Buffy’s embrace and situated himself lengthwise against her body, pulling her body closer to his. He rested his head on the pillow and released a sigh.

Bloody long night it had been, and he hadn’t even cracked the surface of the source of Buffy’s memory loss, or even the past that they had shared. He had purposely drawn things out so that he wouldn’t have to tell her the bad parts…

The dangerous obsession that had grown into love.

Her fall from the tower.

Her resurrection.

The violent couplings they had shared in the aftermath of her return from the grave.

His soul and the reasoning behind it.

Too much to go into in one night.

Too bloody much.


~*~

Buffy stirred slightly in sleep as piercing sunlight pricked her eyelids and forced them open. Groaning, she rolled to her back and lifted her arms above her head, stretching languorously. Suddenly, the events of the night before slammed into her like a tidal wave. It had all started with that horrible dream she’d had about she and Spike…the bathroom…the attempted…Buffy shook her head. She wouldn’t allow her mind to linger over that tidbit for too long.

She didn’t understand the dream; the memory…didn’t understand how a man who loved her to the point of distraction could take such a desperate measure.

There were gaping holes in her memories, and Buffy was growing more and more confused as time passed. It didn’t help that Spike seemed to be holding back. She cursed herself for falling asleep in the middle of it all. But the sad truth remained.

Spike wasn’t telling her everything.

This thought perplexed Buffy, frightened her a little bit. Were things between them so horrible, so twisted that he could barely bring himself to tell her?

Buffy turned her head to gaze at Spike who slept soundly beside her. His features were relaxed, peaceful and his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing.

Frowning, Buffy pressed a hand gingerly to his chest, wondering why Spike breathed. He was a vampire, virtually a walking corpse, yet he breathed. Did he do it out of habit?

She marveled at the feel of his cool pale skin beneath her palm, dragged her hand lower until it glided over his firm taut belly. Spike stirred at that moment, and Buffy withdrew her hand quickly as if she’d been burned.

She waited, holding her breath as Spike shifted in sleep, but did not awaken. She released the breath and rolled onto her side, perching her hand beneath her head to hold it up as she stared at the vampire beside her.

Buffy did not regret her actions of the night before. Making love to Spike had seemed like the most right perfect thing to her. Their bodies coming together as one had felt…Buffy couldn’t exactly put it into words what it all meant. But the act of love they had shared didn’t take away from the fact that Buffy craved to know the truth. And if Spike wasn’t going to tell her the truth than she would have to find out another way.

She would have to return to Los Angeles.

Face her friends.

Face her fear.

Without Spike.

Buffy gently slid from the warm confines of the bed, so as not to wake Spike. She dressed silently, careful not to shatter the stillness of the room bathed in early morning sunshine. She walked to the chair where Spike had left his duster and fumbled around in the pockets until she located what she was looking for.

Pocketing the car keys, she turned slowly, staring evenly at Spike, drinking him in. She hoped he would understand. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry with her. But Buffy didn’t have a choice. She needed her memory back, she needed answers and she needed them now if she was ever to hope to move on with her life.

There was no other way.

Buffy turned away from Spike, battling the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. On shaky legs she walked to the door, rested her fingers on the cool handle and took a deep breath.

Now or never.

Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Buffy turned the door knob and left the safety and security of the cabin. She knew she was taking a dangerous, risky step. She hadn’t the strength to see her friends before, and she was dangerously close to losing the tiny thread of nerves it was taking to lead her toward those friends again.

But with each step she took toward the car, she felt a new strength surging through her body.

I can do this, Buffy breathed to herself as she reached the car and pulled the driver’s side door open.

Just get in the car, turn the key and do this, she continued coaching to herself as she slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut.

Slipping the key into the ignition, Buffy felt a little apprehensive as the car roared to life. She slowly put the car in reverse and pulled away from the cabin, her breath leaving her body in short huffs, a fine sheen of sweat covering her skin.

Sitting at the end of the gravel road, car poised to hit the interstate, Buffy closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

No turning back now.

Gently, Buffy eased the car onto the highway and turned it west. The answers to her questions lay beyond a two day’s drive.

She was going home.


~**~


End of Chapter Eleven

 

Chapter Twelve

~*The Road to Nowhere*~


~**~

A vicious crack of thunder woke Spike from sleep. He sat up in bed abruptly and immediately noticed the space beside him that was empty. In alarm, his head darted around the room as the knowledge sank in.

She was gone.

Muttering curses to himself, Spike tossed the blanket from his body and got out of bed. He could hear the rain pelting the cabin, feel the foundation shake as thunder rolled again.

Spike’s mind raced with confused thoughts as he pulled his clothes on and searched for car keys. A part of him had almost expected her to run off, had maybe been waiting for it to happen. Still, Spike was bewildered just the same.

Was Buffy out of her bleeding mind?

What could have possessed her to take off?

Spike found that he came up empty regarding the answers to those questions and also realized that the keys were missing. He sank onto the bed, throwing his face into his hands.

She’d stolen away and stolen the car.

Bloody hell.

Now how was he going to find her?


~**~

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Buffy repeated this to herself like a mantra as she rested her forehead against the steering wheel of the car. Rain fell in sheets so heavy that the windshield wipers could barely swipe it away as it continued to pour.

The downpour beat against the car at all sides and briefly Buffy found herself hoping that the torrential rain would sweep the car away, because there was no way in hell she was going to drive anymore.

She’d come to an awful conclusion when the rain storm had materialized suddenly and as she’d barely managed to pull the car over to the shoulder of the road.

She couldn’t drive.

Not now, probably not ever.

Buffy sighed as she lifted her head slowly from the steering wheel, narrowing her eyes against the sheets of moisture that slid over the windshield, blocking her view of the highway ahead, making it impossible to even attempt to go any further.

She had made a huge mistake.

She’d barely made it a mile down the road before she’d come to that conclusion, moments before the storm had hit. Running away was not going to solve her problems.

Expecting Spike to go no-holds-barred regarding her memory was selfish and trite. Of course he would be hesitant regarding their past…why wouldn’t he be? Buffy shook her head to herself, the weight of her mistake sitting heavily on her shoulders.

Time. All Spike had needed was some time. Everything couldn’t fall into place all at once, could it?

Even amnesia-Buffy could have doubts and fears, right?

But this was pushing it a little too far.

Truth of the matter was, Buffy found herself terrified at the thought of not having Spike at her side. Facing these friends of hers in Los Angeles without him there with her? Not possible. What on earth had she been thinking?


~**~

What the hell had she been thinking? Spike thought angrily to himself as he swiped the droplets of rain from his eyes, his footsteps carrying him down the desolate highway as he trudged away from the cabin.

The storm had come up pretty quickly, so it was a sure bet that Buffy hadn’t gotten too far. No other woman had possessed him to take a walk in the pouring rain to find her, only this one. Always this one. It was his blessing and his curse…to eternally follow Buffy like an obedient mutt.

Rain fell in sheets around him, and his duster wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping him warm and dry. His clothes were already soaked through, his hair plastered to his head.

When he got his hands on that little--

Spike’s thoughts were cut off abruptly as he noticed a bulky shape up ahead sitting on the shoulder of the road. Even with his acute vampire sight, he had trouble making out what the shape was through the rain that clung to his lashes and fell into his eyes.

He took a few hesitant steps forward and then it dawned on him. The car. He’d found the car. An uncontrollable urge to laugh bubbled up in Spike’s throat as he neared the vehicle, honed in on the sound of the windshield wipers desperately trying to sweep the rain away.

The silly bint had gotten caught in the storm, had barely made it a mile away from the cabin. Spike chuckled and shook his head as he stopped at the driver’s side door. He rapped his knuckles on the window and waited, a smug smile painted over his features.


~**~

Buffy jumped at the sound that assailed her senses. A rapping sound. On the window. Someone was at the window. A tiny sliver of fear inched down her spine and she found herself holding her breath.

Hesitantly, she reached out a hand to the window, trying to clear the condensation away and get a better look at who was out there. It was no use, she couldn’t see a damn thing.

Sighing to herself, Buffy reached for the handle to roll the window down and as soon as she had lowered it, a head ducked inside. A blonde head, with startling blue eyes to match, for that matter.

Buffy reared back a little as Spike peered inside the car, droplets of rain sliding down from his face, his hair. His eyes collided with hers and narrowed.

“Slide over pet,” he growled and Buffy immediately scrabbled from the driver’s side and into the passenger seat.

The door swung open and Spike slid inside, pulling the door closed. For long moments, neither of them spoke. The only sound that could be heard was the rain drumming against the body of the car, the occasional peal of thunder. And breathing.

Buffy closed her eyes a moment and tried to control her breathing and then hazarded a glance in Spike’s direction. He was really pissed at her, judging by the way his jaw worked as his teeth clenched and unclenched.

The action made his cheekbones stand out, and suddenly Buffy had the urge to graze her fingertips over the ridges of his face, but she tamped the feeling away. This was definitely not the time or place. So she stared at her hands and waited.


~**~

Spike rested his hands on the steering wheel of the car, his fingers flexing to grip the wheel as he desperately tried to maintain a cool exterior. To tell the truth, he was having a hell of a time finding the words to express to Buffy how upset he was with her for walking out like she had.

Seemed the girl with amnesia still held onto traits that she probably didn’t even know she possessed. Traits that had grated on Spike from the moment he’d met her. That damnable stubbornness, her refusal to look beyond what was in front of her, see the bigger picture. She saw the world black and white, while Spike always saw the gray area.

Some things never changed.

The rain began to subside and words had yet to be spoken between Buffy and Spike. Wordlessly, Spike reached for the ignition, turning the key. The engine roared to life as Spike put the car in reverse. In moments, they had pulled away from the shoulder of the highway and were headed back in the direction of the cabin.

It was time to sort out some things.

It was time to resurrect Buffy’s memories, the consequences be damned.


~**~

Buffy watched Spike intently from her spot on the bed as he stoked a fire. A damp chill had settled over the cabin and seemed to permeate the room. He still wore his rain-soaked clothing and a sliver of guilt stabbed in Buffy’s chest. This was all her fault.

She lowered her eyes when Spike began to undress in front of her. Did he not care that she was right there in the room? That she could see--

Oh. My. God…

The breath halted in her lungs as Spike’s nakedness was displayed before her. The smooth lean curves of his muscled body made Buffy quiver all over, an uncontrollable trembling that started at the top of her head and undulated to the tips of her toes.

God, he was beautiful.

She couldn’t look away.

Must look away, Buffy thought to herself. But this was easier to say than do, because her eyes were having difficulty tearing away from the sight before them.

Damn it, did the man have no modesty?

Or was he just trying to torment her for running off as she had?

Yeah, that was it.

To Buffy’s relief, Spike reached for the tattered afghan draped over the chair near the fireplace and pulled it around his body, covering himself. Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding and continued to watch as Spike sank slowly onto the chair, thrusting a cigarette into his mouth.

All she could do was wait.

He had to say something eventually.

Didn’t he?


~**~

Spike knew that it had affected Buffy when he’d disrobed in front of her. It had been his intention…at first. But seeing the color that rushed into her cheeks, the way she’d tried to look away, but couldn’t seem too…well…served her right. Looky no touchy for Buffy until things were straightened out between them.

The fire crackled and came to life, the flames casting eerie shadows around the room as the storm resumed its pummeling force outside. The rain had picked up again.

Spike felt comforted by the storm, closed off from the world. He and the Slayer were tucked away in this cabin stuck out in the middle of nowhere. The only time he’d ever really had her to himself in all of the years that he’d known her.

No Scoobies.

No brat kid sister.

Just the two of them.

But first things first.

Spike tossed his cigarette into the fireplace and got to his feet. His clothes were draped on the mantel in front of the fireplace and Spike touched each article testing if the items were dry. The jeans were damp now, but not sopping…it would do. He could live without a shirt at the moment.

Shooting a glance in Buffy’s direction, he noticed her eyes were trained on the floor and took that moment to lower the afghan covering him and slip his jeans on. Then he took two steps and stopped in front of Buffy. The sounds of his footsteps caused Buffy’s head to raise.

Finally Spike chose to speak.

“Care to explain yourself love?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest as he stared down at Buffy.


~**~

Buffy’s eyes widened at the question Spike fired at her. What could she say? She was having trouble finding the right words to explain the motivation behind her actions, besides the obvious ones…which involved something about her and being incredibly selfish and stupid.

Something told her that Spike knew that already, so what else was she to say? It was obvious that the trust she’d thought she’d built with the vampire was deteriorating in some way. But why? Was it because of that awful dream/memory she’d had involving Spike and the rape thing, some residual confusion and anger that lingered?

No…Buffy was pretty sure she’d resolved that whole thing in her mind already.

So, what was her problem?

A glance in Spike’s direction made it clear to Buffy that the explanation had better be coming and soon before there was hell to pay. She sighed heavily, the breath leaving her body feeling as if it were weighted down from the troubled thoughts it was preceding.

Here goes.

“I…I was scared,” she finally murmured plaintively, hunching her shoulders and avoiding Spike’s piercing stare. The moment the words left her mouth was the moment Spike took a step forward. In the space of a heartbeat, he had settled himself beside Buffy on the edge of the bed, his head tilted crazily as he studied her.

“What are you afraid of, love? Me?” he asked, the last word coming out so softly and shakily that it pierced Buffy straight to her soul. She lifted her eyes, faced Spike beside her and shook her head vehemently.

“No, no. Not you. God…so not you,” she protested heatedly, instinctively reaching for his hands and clasping them in hers, her eyes pleading with his.

“Me. This,” Buffy squeezed her eyes shut a moment, trying to put the words together, to make him understand. She opened her eyes and faced Spike once again.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just…” she searched for words that seemed to want to falter the moment they entered her mind. “Selfish. Stupid. Stubborn. Impatient,” Buffy finished with a shake of her head. Spike chuckled softly and shook his head.

“Knew that already, Pet. Known you a lot of years…been at the brunt of that long list of adjectives…believe me,” Spike said with a shake of his head.

“There!” Buffy cried out and Spike frowned at her sudden outburst.

“Not following you, love.”

“That…that thing you just did…that oh-I-know-Buffy-so-well thing that you did just then…that’s why I’m confused. The you knowing me so well…i-it’s so hard to understand and I just want to…” her words slowed and broke up as emotion filled her voice. “I just want to understand.”

Spike studied Buffy a moment, letting the words sink over him. What more did she want from him? Wasn’t he giving her enough? Apparently not. Nothing had ever been enough when it came to his Slayer.

Time and time again he’d bent over backwards for her…saved her and the soddin lot that she called friends…and for what? To be used? Abused? Tossed around like some bloody rag doll that she could do with as she pleased?

Spike got to his feet as old emotions that he thought he’d buried years ago began to surface. He paced the scarred wooden floor of the cabin, feeling like a caged animal.

He could feel Buffy’s perplexed stare in his direction. He thrust his fingers into his hair and desperately tried to tamp down the old resentment and confusion that had once hung over him like a black cloud.

Back in the old days.

“Spike?” Buffy questioned from her place on the bed. But Spike hardly heard her voice, his memory was trapped in the swirling vortex of the past of which their was no escape.


~**~

“You can't understand why this is killing me, can you?”

“Why don't you explain it? Come on, that's it, put it on me. Put it all on me. That's my girl.”

“I am not your girl! You don't ... have a soul! There is nothing good or clean in you. You are dead inside! You can't feel anything real! I could never ... be your girl!”

“You always hurt ... the one you love, pet.”


~**~

Spike shook the memory away and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he took a step back as Buffy appeared suddenly before him.

A frown creased her features slightly as she peered into his eyes, searching for answers that Spike could barely find the strength to give her. She looked down suddenly, clasping her hands in front of her body as if she struggled with what to say next.

“I hate this,” she stated simply. “I hate being in the dark. I hate the not-knowing. I hate that you can go to places in your memory and find me there and it kills me that I can’t go to those places with you.” Spike looked down at his feet.

“There are some places in my memory you wouldn’t want to go love,” Spike muttered. “Unpleasant places.” Buffy took a step forward and clasped Spike’s shoulders, shaking him a little.

“But it would be something…anything that I could remember…that I could have for me, ya know?” Buffy cried out. “I feel like I’m trapped…stuck…wandering in this dark room in the place that used to be my memory and being so lost…just lost!”

Spike stared down into her eyes and felt as if his heart would crack in two at the sight. There was so much despair and pain in her eyes that it killed something deep inside of him. He yearned to help her…lead her back into the world where she remembered who he was…what they meant to each other.

But a part of him was afraid.

He took a step back and watched as Buffy’s hands fell listlessly to her side. Spike didn’t understand the gamut of emotions that assailed him. Why was he afraid? He knew the answer to that question the moment it entered his mind.

The Slayer that remembered him would also remember the pain, the suffering, the agony they had put each other through time and time again. Spike could hardly bear to wrap his mind around where his thoughts were taking him. He walked to the chair near the fireplace and sank into it, lowering his head into his hands.

“I don’t understand Spike,” Buffy murmured from across the room and began taking slow steps toward him. She got to her knees before him and slowly reached for his hands, extricating them from where they covered his face.

Her eyes stared expectantly into his, glittering with questions she desperately needed answered. “But I want too,” she finished. Spike shook his head.

“I don’t know if I can, Buffy. The things we did…we said to each other--” Spike squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

“Don’t be afraid Spike. Please,” Buffy begged. “I have to know…I have to…”her voice cracked and Spike could hear the ragged sound of her breathing as tears clung in her throat, her emotions threatening to spill over. Spike did the first thing he always did when it came to the Slayer.

He gave in.

“I’ll do the best I can,” he murmured roughly and as the words left his mouth he felt Buffy relax immediately.

“Thank you,” she whispered and then inched closer, resting her lips against Spike’s cheek so delicately, so softly that the action threatened to break him in two.

Spike closed his eyes and let his emotions wash over him. He knew he should be angry with her for taking off…threatening to leave him behind…but a part of him could understand what had driven her to do…well…the driving…

She was scared.

Maybe more scared than Spike himself was.

But did this justify her in leaving him like she had?

Absolutely not.

Spike wrested himself away from Buffy’s grip and got to his feet, regarding her evenly with narrowed blue eyes.

“Before we get to the truth-telling, there are some answers I want first,” Spike retorted. Buffy frowned and shook her head.

“What?” she asked.

“You know what, Slayer. Taking the bloody car…driving off to…” Spike motioned with his hand toward outside, “wherever. What were you thinking?” Buffy shook her head and lowered it, avoiding Spike’s gaze.

“I-I don’t know,” she murmured. “I guess I was searching for things…that is…until the storm came up. Must be karma.”

“Not karma, love. Something else. Probably guilt,” Spike retorted turning away and shuffling to the mantel above the fireplace and retrieving his shirt.

He pulled it on quickly and faced Buffy. She looked properly remorseful and Spike felt a shaft of joy pierce his body. Served her right.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” Buffy whispered. “I’m sorry that I left you like that…that I doubted my trust in you. It won’t happen again. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do when I got to where I was going anyway. Frankly, it terrified me.”

“Terrified you?”

Buffy nodded.

“Mmm hmm…paralyzing, petrifying fear. Right then and there I realized that I couldn’t do it…couldn’t leave you. Because without you,” she raised her eyebrows, “I’m lost.”

The last words came out on a whisper and Spike knew that she meant every syllable. It colored her voice, wafted to him in her scent and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Buffy needed him.

Spike suddenly found that the anger he’d felt towards her a moment before had dissipated. Love…swift and fierce assailed his being to the point that Spike was quivering from the powerful tidal wave of emotions that washed over him.

“Buffy love?”

“Yes, Spike?”

“Get your pretty little ass over here,” he growled, staring at her through hooded eyes, desire shining in them. A wide smile spread across the Slayer’s delicate features as she took slow steps toward him and fell into his waiting arms.

The rain continued to fall steadily outside, casting the room into semi-darkness. The flames of the fire cast a warm orange glow over the walls, ensconcing the two in a cocoon of warmth and security.

There was no other place Spike would rather be.


~**~

I was looking back on my life
And all the things I've done to me
I'm still looking for the answers
I'm still searching for the key

The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me
It just won't leave me alone
I still find it all a mystery
Could it be a dream?

The road to nowhere leads to me…

Through all the happiness and sorrow
I guess I'd do it all again
Live for today and not tomorrow
It's still the road that never ends…


~**~

End of Chapter Twelve
 

Chapter Thirteen


~*Willing Surrender*~


~**~

Buffy was exhausted, but in a good way. She and Spike were on solid ground once again. Of course the sex didn’t hurt matters any. He had her on a string and he knew it.

All it had taken was that sexy come-hither stare and she’d melted like ice cream on a hot day. But it had been the sweetest surrender, falling into his arms, letting him take her to higher places that she could have never imagined she would ever reach.

But it couldn’t last.

There was still the looming ominous black cloud that hung over her head. The constant reminder of the path she tread, the darkness that surrounded her.

Memories, buried.

A past, forgotten.

Questions, unanswered.

No matter how easy it might be to push these things away, there was no use in denying it any longer. Buffy needed to know things. Spike alone held the key to opening the door and shedding light onto her ever-darkening world.

But she didn’t want to push.

Look at what had happened before.

But patience wasn’t on Buffy’s side anymore. Eventually she and Spike were going to have to open old wounds. Buffy wasn’t looking forward to it and she knew that Spike was definitely not looking forward to it.

But it had to be done.

There was no way around it any longer.

She would ask the questions, Spike would give the answers and the whole mess would finally be sorted out. Buffy would finally find the peace she was searching for, a reason behind her existence.

Was that too much to ask?


~**~

Spike could almost hear the wheels turning inside Buffy’s head as he studied her thoughtfully. She lay on her back, hands pillowed behind her head as she stared reflectively at the ceiling.

Spike lay on his side, hand propped beneath his chin as he studied Buffy contemplatively. If she knew that he was staring at her, she didn’t let on to the fact.

He could stare at her all the livelong day and never tire of it. There was always something he found new and fascinating about the woman he loved, and it gave him great joy that he was the one to discover these things about her.

No one else.

Not the great Poof and not any of the other wankers she had dated in the past.

Only him.

A satisfied smile spread across Spike’s pale features.

She was his. She belonged to him. So this was what it felt like to have all of your dreams come true.

But Buffy seemed to be someplace else at the moment. Her eyes had taken on a far off look, a distance and Spike knew where it was that her mind had traveled.

It was up to him now. He was all she had. But was it enough? Desperate times called for drastic measures. Steps had to be taken. He couldn’t do it alone. Help waited outside on the porch of the cabin, he‘d heard the car pull up, and knew the reinforcements had arrived.

It was the only way. He alone couldn’t be the source of the answers that she sought. The thought was comforting, yet troubling all at the same time. And with that thought, Spike knew that he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.

It was time.


~**~

“Buffy?”

Spike’s voice dragged Buffy from her reverie and slowly her eyes slid to meet Spike’s gaze. Judging by the resolve planted firmly over his features she knew that the moment had arrived. The time had finally come for truths and the fear that seized her was a little unexpected, but welcome all at once.

“Is it time, Spike?” she asked solemnly.

Spike nodded.

“Yes, love. I made a promise, of which I plan to keep,” he murmured. “Could never deny you a thing, love. ‘M not about to start now.”

Spike got out of bed, which caused a frown to settle over Buffy’s features. Where was he going? Did telling her about her past involve getting up and moving around? Was this going to be a 3-D stereo kind of thing? ‘Cause really…the talking would suffice.

She watched as Spike moved to the front door and pulled it open. Sitting up in bed, Buffy pulled the sheets around her body as a sudden chill entered the room. She leaned closer as Spike began to speak with someone and the frown creasing her features deepened when he stepped aside and allowed this someone to step into the room.

Huh?

Buffy studied the tallish figure of the redheaded woman that entered the room. She stared at Buffy with her rounded green eyes in such a way that it made Buffy a little uncomfortable.

Who was this girl? And why was she studying Buffy like that? Like she knew her from somewhere. And why had Spike brought her here, to this place?

Spike did not seem to have respect for the love nest, a chagrined Buffy thought to herself. By allowing this person, this stranger to enter it he seemed to be moving on from the whole lovers-on-the run vibe the two of them were going for.

Buffy found that she hated that their alone time had ended. Just when she was starting to feel as if she had a connection to the place she had suddenly reappeared in, Spike had to muck it all up by letting the outside world in.

Buffy was, to say the least, a little peeved.

She had hoped that she and Spike would delve into the abyss of her memories, not allow an audience to witness the whole thing. She was unsettled, uncomfortable and a little pissed off. Especially when the redheaded woman took a seat on the bed and aimed her questioning glance in Buffy’s direction and then began to speak.

“Hey Buffy. Remember me? Willow?”

Huh?


~**~

Spike watched the scene before him unfold as he thrust a cigarette into his mouth and settled onto the chair near the fireplace. Calling in Willow had been a last resort measure. She had access to powers that Spike couldn’t even to hope to possess.

In a moment of insanity, at least that’s what he was calling it, he had slipped out of the cozy comfort of the love nest that he and Buffy had created for themselves and driven himself to the nearest payphone.

Swallowing his pride, he’d dialed Wolfram and Hart and had immediately been transferred to Wesley. Spike knew that it would be a gargantuan error if he talked to the Poof, so Wesley had seemed to be the safer alternative.

His conclusion had been the right one apparently, because Wesley had been right on board with Spike from the get-go. This information was a little startling to Spike, but would make what he was about to do more justified. At least in his mind.

Wesley had promised to contact Willow, secretively of course, and then send her Spike’s way. When the former Watcher had prompted Spike about his motives behind Willow’s summoning, the vampire had been properly evasive, darting around the subject.

One thing that could be said about Wesley, he wasn’t a stupid man and had immediately understood Spike’s situation. Without further hesitation, Wesley had set the wheels in motion. Now Willow was here and ready with whatever mojo she had up her sleeve to probe into Buffy’s mind.

Willow would somehow magically enter Buffy’s mind, delve into the source of her amnesia and somehow, some way root out the cause of her memory loss, therefore restoring Buffy’s memories in the process.

What comforted Spike was the fact that the witch had done this sort of thing before. He remembered all too well the spell Red had performed on Buffy right after Glory had kidnapped the Bit. Now, Buffy would remember it as well.

It sounded like balderdash and chicanery to Spike, but he knew that Willow could get the job done. But the look Buffy was shooting at him from her spot on the bed wasn’t sitting very well with Spike. He knew that he’d taken a huge risk allowing Willow access to the Slayer, but he hadn’t had a lot of other options readily available.

Buffy would just have to swallow her fear and hang on for the ride. More than anything, Spike wanted to see her memory restored. He knew that it mattered to her and that it was affecting her deeply.

Spike just wanted to see her happy again.

It didn’t matter that some of the memories would be awful, terrible. It didn’t matter that Spike wasn’t shown in a very good light in those memories, but they were hers and hers alone and he wasn’t about to deny her the right to have them back.

So, this was the only way. Buffy would thank him for it in the end. At least he hoped she would.

A niggling fear at the corner of his mind increased his doubt.

Was he doing the right thing?

He bloody well hoped so, because he was at the bleeding end of his tether.

He just wanted Buffy back.


~**~

Buffy stared in wide-eyed wonderment at the woman that sat just inches away from her on the bed. She called herself Willow, said she was Buffy’s best friend, yet this didn’t make Buffy feel any better.

She cast a desperate glance in Spike’s direction, her mouth working frantically to form the words she wanted to say. To say she was angry with Spike was putting it lightly. What had happened to the promise he’d made to her way in the beginning? The one where he said they’d get her better together?

Buffy remembered him saying the words; she just didn’t remember the part where the promise got broken. Buffy shot a perplexed glance in Willow’s direction and shrank away a little. The woman only leaned closer, which caused new fear to ripple over Buffy. Oh God oh God oh God…

“B-Buffy? Hey, ya wanna relax a little? I’m here to help. I won’t hurt you. I know that you don’t remember me a-and I understand that. But you just gotta trust me…just a little. Ok?”

Spike got to his feet and moved across the room, sitting hesitantly on the bed beside Buffy. She felt immediately relieved when he took her hand and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Did this for you love,” he said roughly, motioning with his head toward Willow who nodded slowly. “She’s the only one who’s capable of…well…getting you back. I can’t do it alone, pet. Something took your memories away, don’t you want them back?”

Buffy slowly lowered her eyes; bit her lip as she contemplated the situation. Of course she wanted them back, wanted them back so badly she could taste it, but was this the way to go?

She didn’t trust this Willow, but Spike seemed to and if Spike trusted the girl there was no reason Buffy shouldn’t. This made sense to her; it just didn’t make the fears disappear. Looking over at the redhead, she shot her a half-hearted smile, which the woman returned.

In that moment, Buffy felt a strange sense of familiarity, a bond flowing between herself and Willow. This could be ok, Buffy determined to herself.

Her glance slid back to Spike who nodded encouragingly at her and a new sensation coursed through her veins. This was going to work, she could feel it.

“Ok,” Buffy said out loud, speaking to her hands. Spike’s finger was immediately tucked beneath her chin, turning her face so that their eyes leveled with one another’s.

“I’ll be right here, pet. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Certainly not Willow. Least I hope,” Spike said darting a warning glance at the Wicca. Willow raised her hands as well as her eyebrows at the sentiment.

“Hey…experienced here, remember? I-I’m not going to hurt anyone, ok? If you just let me work and stay out of my way…then we can do this. Alright?”

Buffy’s expression went from complacent to terrified in the space of a heartbeat.

“What exactly are we talking about here?”

“Just a spell, love. Remember, I’m here,” Spike urged, which didn’t do anything to quell the rising terror that had suddenly tidal-waved inside of Buffy. She raised her hand.

“Hello? I’m confused, here. You’re gonna do a spell on me…which will somehow restore my memory? Is it gonna hurt?” Buffy asked, the last words spoken softly, shakily. Willow shook her head vehemently, her red hair flowing in waves around her shoulders.

“N-no, Buffy. It won’t hurt. Promise.”

“Ok then,” Buffy acquiesced. “Let’s do this and get it over with as quick as possible, before I change my mind. Tell me what I have to do.”


~**~

Buffy got dressed quickly and then allowed Willow to make her comfortable on the bed. Spike sat apprehensively on the chair near the fireplace, chain smoking as Willow placed candles around the room. The flickering glow of the candles cast eerie shadows on the walls and didn’t do much in the way of settling Spike’s nerves.

Suddenly he wasn’t feeling at all comfortable with what was about to take place. Maybe he’d been a little too quick in taking the magically inclined route. He’d said it before, magic had consequences, always.

Great timing for doubts, you git, Spike thought to himself as he lit another cigarette with a shake of his head.

Well, there was no turning back now, what was done was done. The train was barreling down the tracks and there was no way to stop it. Spike just hoped that this was the right thing to do…

If only for Buffy’s sake.




~**~

End of Chapter Thirteen

 

Chapter Fourteen


~*Into the Great Unknown*~


~**~


Spike watched as Willow sat Indian-style on the bed beside Buffy and gently placed her hands on her knees. Her eyes closed and she began to chant softly to herself. The candle light cast the room into shadows and a silence fell over the occupants as the ritual began.

Spike slid his gaze to Buffy, who lay on her back, arms at her sides. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and regular. This comforted Spike, the fact that Buffy was relaxed. Willow’s voice raised in volume as she chanted and Spike found himself holding an unnecessary breath.

He knew they were heading into dangerous territory. Who knew what Red would find when she delved into the depths of Buffy’s mind? Spike was a little uncomfortable with the witch exploring inside his beloved’s brain.

There were things in there the girl wouldn’t like, things about him, that weren’t meant for prying eyes. But if this was the only way to get Buffy back, then Spike wasn’t about to stand in the way. Consequences be damned.

Spike just wished he could get a glimpse at what Willow was seeing…just a tiny shred of…

Suddenly, a force stronger than anything Spike had ever come up against slammed into his body forcefully, hurtling him backwards against the chair he sat in. He tried to fight it, but something held him back, pinned him against the chair, like a weight bearing down.

Groaning, Spike tried to move, tried to gain the upper hand, but the force was too strong and he was powerless to contain it. Slumping in defeat, Spike felt his strength leave his body, felt his eyelids begin to droop as something slid inside of his body, his mind, relinquishing him of his rights to move at his own will.

Something was taking over and Spike was helpless to stop it. His eyes closed, his body weakened and he lost the fragile hold of control that he had been perilously clinging too. It was no use, the force was too strong and there was nothing that Spike could do but give in.

And from the periphery of the numbness that Spike was feeling, he could still hear the monotone of Willow’s relentless chanting. It was her, she was doing this…the spell…it was the spell.

Light! Flashes of brilliant light exploded behind Spike’s eyes. Then movement, slow at first and then increasing in speed. He was traveling, journeying to somewhere dark and deep, but to where, Spike hadn’t a clue.

All he knew was that it was going to be a hell of a ride.

One he wasn’t expecting.


~**~

Buffy could feel movement, hear sounds, but darkness surrounded her. She could hear the chanting of the witch, but felt as if the sound was a million miles away. What was happening to her?

Obviously this spell had taken her to another plane of reality at least that was what it felt like as Buffy got to her feet and glanced around at her surroundings.

Taking hesitant steps, Buffy began to explore the darkened room she seemed to have fallen into; the place Willow’s spell had sent her to, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind.

Fear and anxiety seized Buffy immediately. She didn’t like what was happening, was almost regretful that she had consented to this spell bullsh--

What was that? Up ahead? There was movement, sounds. Buffy narrowed her eyes and tried to make out the presence ahead through the inky darkness surrounding her. The chanting could still be heard, though faint and distant as it was.

Now the presence seemed to be moving toward her. In fright, Buffy began to backpedal, searching for something, anything that would get her out of this place.

Buffy wanted to cry out, but it seemed that she had lost her ability to speak at the moment. Probably due to the paralyzing fear. Buffy could now hear the distinct sound of breathing. It was there, she could hear it and the sound terrified her.

“Who’s there?” she cried out shakily. “Look, whatever you are…I’m a vampire slayer…just want to throw that out there…so there will be no messing around…with me…because…vampire slayer, ok?”

Buffy held her breath and waited, her panicky gaze traveling from side to side, desperately trying to make out the presence that had joined her in this place. Suddenly, a voice rang out.

“Buffy?”

That voice! Relief like Buffy had never known washed over her. The force of it was so strong, that she actually felt her knees buckle, the world tilt slightly.

“Spike? Is that really you?” she cried out, voice wavering from fear and anxiety.

“Yes love, it’s me.”

Now Spike’s voice was closer, so close she could feel his breath tickle her cheek as if he were standing right behind her. At that moment she felt her Slayer senses kick in as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, as her heart began to race.

In that instant, she felt Spike’s hand rest on her shoulder. Even though she couldn’t see him she knew he was there. Instantly, she whipped around and crushed her body against Spike’s, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. His arms slowly came around her and pulled her closer.

“Oh thank God,” Buffy breathed, pressing her cheek to Spike’s chest. His fingers sank into her hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m right here love, got you now. Seems Red saw to it that I join you for the journey,” Spike murmured. Buffy lifted her head from Spike’s chest and desperately tried to make out his face, but it was impossible in this darkness.

“I don’t like this, Spike,” she whispered.

“Me neither, pet. Never been one for magic myself…still trying to figure out why I actually consented to this,” Spike mumbled as he glanced around the tiny room they seemed to be stuck in.

“How do we get out?” Buffy asked.

“Give us a minute, love. Trying to get the lay of the land,” Spike said distractedly.

“Uh…Spike?”

“Not now, love. Gonna try and get us out of here.”

“Spike…”

“Buffy…I said…”

“What. Is. That?”

Spike thanked the Powers at that moment for his acute vampire sight as he narrowed his eyes and tried to see what Buffy was pointing at. He peered closer as a tiny orb of light entered the room. It was about the size of a pencil eraser and darted around the room like a firefly. A bug?

Ok, how in the hell had they ended up on the plane where there were bugs, because Spike wasn’t partial to creepy crawlies. Frowning, Spike realized at that moment that it was no bug that had entered the room.

It was Willow.


~**~


Buffy batted at the tiny orb of light that darted precariously near her face and reared her head back. This was…new. The light circled around the room, casting illumination into the darkness. Now she could see Spike’s face more clearly and that relieved her. Light…light was good. So what were they supposed to do now?

The light now seemed to be beckoning them to follow it. Buffy could feel it and she turned to face Spike, almost hypnotized by the minute shaft of light.

“I think we’re supposed to follow it,” she murmured distantly and she could feel Spike nodding beside her.

“It’s Willow. She’s the light. Don’t ask me to explain, I just seem to feel it,” Spike said.

“So we follow it, right?” Buffy asked.

“Would seem so, pet. Take my hand,” Spike ordered and Buffy did so without thinking twice.

She was so glad he was here, and that she wasn’t alone in this place. She silently thanked Willow for that; the girl had been thinking ahead on this spell, she obviously knew what she was doing. Still, it didn’t make the uneasiness that had settled in Buffy’s stomach disappear any faster.

Slowly they began to walk, Buffy standing slightly behind Spike as he led her through the inky darkness. The light darted in and around corners, but seemed to know where it was heading.

The room seemed to change, to shift as the light led them further down what appeared to be a hallway. On closer inspection, Buffy realized they were walking down a corridor lined with many doors.

Spike held her hand tightly as the light suddenly stopped, hovered in front of the first door. It winked, flashed and then disappeared. The light had led them to a door, which could only mean one thing.

They had no choice but to enter it.


~**~


Spike watched the light flicker and disappear, turning his eyes to the door they were standing in front of. He released Buffy’s hand and took slow steps to the door, pressing his hand against it, closing his eyes.

Something was behind this door and in that moment things began making sense to Spike. The corridor, this place, the doors. They were portals, entryways to each and every one of Buffy’s memories. Each door signified a time and a place.

The light had led them to the source of Buffy’s memories. When at one time the doors had been locked, now it seemed they wouldn’t be anymore. Reaching his hand to the door handle and turning it instantly solidified Spike’s reasoning as there was no restraint from a lock.

The doors were open now.

He turned to Buffy who stared at him expectantly, eyes rounded with fear, apprehension and curiosity. He could feel each and every one of her emotions, could taste them, and smell them. But they had each other and would trundle their way through this together, no matter what. All she needed was some reassurance. Gently, he placed a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.

“We have to go through the door, love. You and me. The doors lead to--”

“My memories,” Buffy finished in astonished awe. Spike nodded beside her.

“That’s right, pet. You’re gettin’ it,” he murmured softly.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Buffy asked.

“Followin’ your lead love,” Spike said. Buffy released a long breath, darted a glance at Spike and squared her shoulders. Spike could feel the slight tremble of her body as she prepared to pass through the doorway.

“You’ll be with me, right?” she asked, voice quavering slightly with fear.

“Right beside you, love. ‘M not going anywhere,” he murmured.

“Good,” Buffy breathed. “Ok. Here we go.”

There was new resolve inflected in her tone and the sound washed over Spike like warm honey. This was the girl he remembered. The strong-willed, resilient nature of the Slayer that he had grown to love with every fiber of his being. She was back and Spike had never felt more overjoyed in his unlife than he was at this moment.

Two steps and they had entered the room. The door slammed shut behind them, like finality. The journey had only just begun.


No turning back now.


~**~


Buffy didn’t realize her eyes had been screwed tightly shut until she instinctively opened them. She blinked rapidly a few times, adjusting to the light that flooded the room she and Spike had entered. His hand was grasped tightly in hers, and right now he was the only thing keeping her upright.

She glanced around, taking in the new surroundings. They were in a room, a bedroom by the looks of it. Spike said nothing as Buffy dropped his hand and began to explore the room. He was two steps behind her, always there, a reassuring presence in this swirling vortex of chaos they had been thrown into.

The bedroom was large, spacious. The décor was bright, cheerful. Sunshine colored walls, bright white curtains, and oak furnishings. A four-poster canopy bed stood in one corner; a vanity table flanked the opposite wall and stood next to a large walk-in closet.

Buffy frowned and inspected the room carefully, deliberately. She felt the stirrings of familiarity as her fingertips grazed over objects, picking them up, setting them down. Posters taped to the walls gave Buffy the impression this was a teenager’s room.

Glancing around, she took in everything. The clothes that hung in the closet. The L.A. Raiders pennant that hung on the wall above the bed. The pom-poms that were pooled in an overstuffed chair.

The CD collection was quickly fingered through…lots of teenybopper pop music, which caused Buffy’s nose to wrinkle in distaste. Whomever this room belonged to had serious musical deficiencies.

She then turned her attention to the array of framed photos that sat atop the dresser. She picked up one of the gilded metal frames and stared intently at the photograph behind the glass. There was a man, a woman and a blonde-haired child, hair in pigtails, green eyes round with innocence and grace.

The child was Buffy herself.

The man and woman were her parents.

With shaky fingertips, she traced the images depicted in the photo and closed her eyes, desperately searching her memory for the names of her family members, but came up blank. Frustrated tears filled her eyes and slowly the frame was returned to the smooth oak surface of the dresser.

With heavy steps she trudged to the enormous bed and sank onto the soft mattress, the weight of her amnesia settling heavily upon her shoulders.

It was no use.

Even this journey, this trip, was doing nothing to resurrect her buried memories. No matter how she tried could not seem to pull them from the depths of the places they had been buried in the first place.

There was no point anymore.

Buffy was lost and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

She wanted to go back to the cabin. She wanted this awful experience to end.

Slowly, her head lowered as the tears spilled, slid down her cheeks and splashed wet drops onto the skin of her arms, her hands. Covering her face with her hands she let the sobs come, let the sorrow overwhelm her.

Buffy hardly noticed as the mattress dipped, as Spike lowered himself beside her, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her head to his chest. The tears were flowing freely now, a waterfall of emotion that had been building for too long.

It was over before it had begun.


~**~


Spike had never felt more helpless than he did at this moment. Watching Buffy crumble right before his eyes had succeeded in tamping the joyous bubble that ballooned in his chest moments before as he’d watched Buffy transform from scared little girl to Slayer right before his eyes. Now he was watching the reversal and it was awful, terrible, like watching a train wreck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, no matter how hard he tried. Somehow his feet began to move and soon he was sitting beside Buffy, pulling her into his embrace and letting her sob on his shoulder.

They sat in muted silence for what seemed like an eternity. Buffy’s sobs were growing in intensity, the motion shaking her entire body like a leaf in the wind.

The helplessness inside of Spike increased as her sorrow washed over him. He hurt ten times more, felt her pain tenfold. It was gut-wrenching, heart-breaking and Spike was unable to control the feeling that he was losing his hold, not only on himself but on Buffy as well.

Was it all slipping away?

Had they finished before they had even begun?

A sound halted Spike’s thoughts, brought his head up abruptly. The bedroom door swung open slowly as a figure descended into the room. Eyes narrowed, Spike waited, unnecessary breath held. Buffy hardly seemed to notice the commotion, so awash was she in her tidal wave of emotions. But Spike was seeing, he was seeing everything.

The young woman that entered the room on slow steps had a muscular compact figure, long white blonde hair, smooth golden skin and a frown planted firmly on her forehead. She didn’t see, didn’t notice the figures that were seated on her bed, walked past them as if they weren’t even there.

Spike watched with curiosity as the girl walked to the full-length mirror that hung on the closet door and studied her reflection. Green eyes searched the reflection, pondered the existence of the other and that was when Spike was robbed of the precious breath that he didn’t require.

The young woman pondering her reflection in the mirror was none other than Buffy Summers. A teenage Buffy Summers. The Slayer at the tender age of fifteen, in those fleeting moments when she had first been called.

Bloody hell.

Spike hadn’t been kidding himself when he’d thought this was going to be a hell of a ride, and things had only just started rolling.

They were in for it now that was bloody certain. He glanced down at the Buffy he held in his arms and then raised his eyes to the Buffy who moved around her bedroom like an automaton. One and the same.

At that moment, the Buffy in his embrace lifted her head. Her gaze slammed into that of her carbon copy and the gasp that left her mouth echoed around the room, bounced off the walls.

But the teenage Buffy didn’t hear a thing, didn’t move a muscle, just continued going about her business as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Hell of a ride indeed, Spike thought to himself with a wry twist of his lips.

Willow had worked the mojo but good this time.

Spike couldn’t wait to see how this unfolded, thankful that he had been selected to tag along for the ride. The only thing was how was Buffy going to handle this?

Judging by the shocked and perplexed look that painted her delicate features she was taking it rather well. At least she wasn’t screaming and fluttering about. This was a good sign.

Wasn’t it?


End of Chapter Fourteen

*A/N: I know, I’m horribly, terribly evil for leaving it hanging like that. But what can I say; I love a good cliffhanger as much as the next person. Hee! More to come, stay tuned!*

 

Chapter Fifteen


~*Begin*~


~**~


Buffy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Right before her eyes was the most astonishing, breath-robbing image that she had ever seen. It didn’t stun her that she was looking at her clone, what stunned her was what her clone was wearing.

There were some things you could forgive, the music collection being one of them, but there was no turning the other cheek on this new atrocity. Leggings? Pfft. Come on.

Buffy studied her mirror image with a critical eye. The outfit notwithstanding, Buffy was in a state of total disbelief. A glance at Spike confirmed that he was right there with her, but the gleam in his eyes, the devilish way his mouth had turned up at the corners suggested something else.

He was attracted to the little blonde fashion disaster.

The fact that he was attracted to the teenage version of herself didn’t faze Buffy; there was just a whole principal thing. She turned and jabbed his shoulder hard with her finger, which caused his head to whirl around, his eyebrows to raise and a chuckle to escape his lips.

“What?” he laughed at the scowling Buffy before him. “Look at you…you were…dare I say it…cute?”

Buffy smacked his shoulder which caused him to double over as laughter seized his body.

“This is not funny, ya mook. We are most definitely not in a funny place!” Buffy cried, but found that she was having trouble keeping a straight face as well.

The situation was…well…rather hilarious if one sat and thought about it. For long moments. A smile curved over her features and she met Spike’s eyes as they laughed together, both realizing in that moment that this was the first time they had actually shared lightheartedness between them since she’d been back. It felt good. It felt spontaneous. The weight was lifting, at least for the time being.

The laughter between them subsided as the sound of voices shouting popped the lighthearted bubble that was this moment between them.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed and Spike’s mouth snapped shut at the sounds. The teenage Buffy had wandered into the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom and in moments Spike and ‘present’ Buffy had joined her there.

She stared into the mirror above the sink, idly twisting a jacket in her hands as she scrubbed a stain out of it. On closer inspection, Buffy realized the younger version of herself was trying to erase a very ugly bloodstain from the letterman’s jacket she twisted between her thin fingers. The dirty and disheveled appearance of her teenage self caused more concern. What was happening?

Suffice it to say, the hilarity of the situation had definitely passed and now they were on to the serious portion of the night’s entertainment. ‘Present’ Buffy studied her younger self as the voices outside the room grew louder, insistent.

The teenage Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, covered her ears. That was when Buffy realized that the voices belonged to her parents, that they were having a heated argument and judging by the amount of times the name ‘Buffy’ came up it was a bad one, related to her in some way.

This was not good, not good at all.


~**~


Spike darted a glance between the teenage version of Buffy and the older one standing beside him. He still couldn’t believe that this was happening and found himself marveling at the advancement of Willow and her spell abilities.

She’d come a long way since ‘Dark Willow’, had mastered so much…not only power, but awesome control and not to mention imagination. This spell was certainly a humdinger, right down to the sights and sounds.

They were getting the full monty on this one. Everything was so vibrant, so real. Spike knew that if he reached out and touched the walls that he would feel them beneath his palms. He inhaled the air and immediately was assailed with scents of teenage blood, hormones and…Vanilla Fields perfume.

This spell wasn’t some intricately woven fantasy, no sir. This was reallyhappening, they were really experiencing this and it looked like they were going full stop…all the way.

A glance at Buffy showed that she was finally coming to terms with what was happening. Spike had already figured it out. The ‘rents were having an argument; they were on the verge of divorce.

Pretty soon Buffy and her mum would be packing it up and moving to Sunnydale. Spike knew this part, Angelus had filled him in on the bits and pieces when they’d briefly been family again back in good ‘ol Sunnyhell.

This journey was going to be long, terrible, frightening and all kinds of fun. Spike could feel it.

Let the games begin.

Spike was startled from his reverie when he saw the Buffy beside him take slow measured steps toward her clone, a frown coloring her features. What in the bleeding hell was she doing?

But, Buffy was ahead of Spike, noticing when his feet moved to jump in and stop her. She motioned with her hand for him to stay back. Spike shrugged, took a large step back and then pressed himself against a nearby wall, arms folded over his chest. He was more than happy to watch.


~**~


Standing side by side with her clone, Buffy stared at her mirror image, trying to put the pieces together. The blood stain. The jacket she feverishly twisted in her hand, the worried frown that creased her features as she stared at her reflection in the mirror ahead could only mean one thing.

She was watching herself react to becoming the ‘Chosen One.’
Buffy’s feet remained rooted to the ground as her other self slowly left the bathroom, not even picking up on the presence of Spike and herself in the room. Buffy watched her younger self leave the bathroom, but did not take steps to follow. First, she had some processing to do.

Buffy took shaky steps to the bathtub and lowered herself onto the cool porcelain edge. With a sigh she ran a hand over her hair and propped her chin up with her hand as she stared into space.

Back at the beginning.

Where it had all started.

Buffy could feel something moving inside of her, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together. Her brain was finally starting to click things into motion.

Apparently, when she was just a teenager her parent’s relationship had begun to unravel. Maybe it had been falling apart long before this time, but it was disintegrating just the same. The arguing voices she’d heard beyond the bedroom made these things clear to Buffy.

These events were setting something into motion, turning the wheels, perpetuating Buffy toward her destiny, a fate that couldn’t be denied and couldn’t be controlled.

Getting to her feet, Buffy tried to regain her balance as her shaky legs moved to where Spike stood. It was time to move on to the next door. Time to add the next piece to the jumble of scattered puzzle pieces that was the tattered remains of Buffy’s memory.

With Spike at her side they would sort through the myriad of events together. This was what Willow had set before them through the power of her magic. Now Buffy had no choice but to follow through with it. She wanted to know more, had the desire to delve deeper.

But she couldn’t do it alone.

Buffy eyed Spike evenly, his silence conveying that he was already on the same page as she was. He reached for her hand, grasped it tightly in his and squeezed.

“Movin’ on, love?” he asked, his voice rough, eyes lowered so that his gaze met hers.

“Yes,” Buffy breathed dazedly. “The next door. We have to. I want to.”

“Then let’s go. No time like the present, yeah?” Spike urged.

“Yeah,” Buffy answered.

He tugged her hand gently, set her feet to moving and together they walked out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom of Buffy’s teenaged past and slipped through the doorway they had entered through.

Back in the mystical hallway, Buffy silently led Spike to the next door, closing her fingers over the handle. She closed her eyes and prayed; hoping that what lay on the other side would bring her closer to finding what she needed, what she craved.

Peace.


~**~


Spike was ready for whatever was coming next, whatever lay on the other side of that door. It was interesting to get this type of perspective on Buffy’s past from his side of the fence.

When Buffy had been busy getting all ‘chosen’ Spike had been halfway across the world with Dru at his side, cutting a bloody swath through Europe. He’d known that another Slayer was out there, but had yet to journey to the Hellmouth and find her…that was until Dru and he found themselves in that bloody mob in Prague.

And that as they said was that. The rest was history. Spike poised his hand over Buffy’s, which was still closed fast around the door handle. She seemed hesitant as if she were a little leery as to what she was going to find on the other side.

“Turn the handle, love. Got to keep moving,” Spike urged. Buffy didn’t turn to meet his eyes, only nodded mutely, her shoulders rising and falling as she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was coming next.

The handle turned easily, the door swung open and once again they were crossing an uncertain threshold, waiting with bated breath to see what they would find next.


~**~


Buffy jumped a little when the door slammed shut behind her. She darted a nervous glance in Spike’s direction, making sure he was still at her side. He met her eyes, lifted his eyebrows and then looked ahead, taking in this new place.

Buffy followed his gaze, once again allowing her eyes to adjust to the change in light. This time, it was dark. Night. Buffy glanced around and immediately realized they were in an alleyway of some sort. It was silent, completely silent and Buffy found herself getting a little nervous.

The sound of heels clicking against pavement assailed Buffy’s ears and she strained to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. A rush of air swirled around her as someone passed and Buffy whipped around to catch a glimpse. What she saw made her gasp aloud, made her fingers fly to her lips, her eyes widen in astonishment.

It was another version of herself. It was hard to tell in the darkness the exact age of this other self, but Buffy knew just the same. Spike stiffened beside her and Buffy frowned, glancing at the vampire.

“What’s your problem?” she asked. Spike lifted a hand to his face, ran the palm over it and sighed.

“I can smell it, love. Smelled it from a mile away.”

“Smelled? Smelled what? Once again the whole smelling people thing…kinda gross.”

“Don’t you realize, don’t you get it?”

“No,” Buffy shook her head. “I really don’t. And why are you acting like such a--”

“Would you quit yammering for one second and just look,” Spike grumbled, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and turning her to face something on the sidewalk ahead.

Buffy made a sound of irritation in her throat. She wanted to know the source of Spike’s sudden bad moodiness it was starting to piss her off. Her eyes narrowed when her other self stopped short, glanced behind her shoulder and frowned. Buffy saw a shadowed figure step up behind the other ‘Buffy’ and held her breath.

Immediately, carbon-copy Buffy sprang into action. She executed a perfect jump onto a metal beam above, elevated her body into a perfect handstand and held it, not a muscle moving as she waited. Buffy stared in fascination at herself. When had she learned to do that nifty little move? It was cool as hell.

Buffy’s thoughts were dragged away from her perfect gymnastic abilities and back to the shadowed figure who continued to advance toward where her other self hovered on the beam above.

Before Buffy could take another breath, her other self had swung down from her perch above, rolled in mid-air and caught the advancing figure unawares, sending him skittering across the ground and slamming into a wall.

A smug smile painted the pretty features of the younger, much more athletic version of herself as she folded her arms across her chest and admired her handiwork.

Meanwhile, the intruder got to his feet, groaned and dusted himself off. Buffy’s mouth dropped open as he stepped into the orange glow of a streetlight, illuminating him and revealing his identity.

“Angel!”

She heard the sound Spike made at her side and turned her head to face him. He mumbled something under his breath and if Buffy strained hard enough she could have swore she heard him call Angel a ‘Poofter.’ Whatever that was.

But she understood now what Spike had meant when he’d said he smelled it a mile away. Guess there were some things you didn’t forget. In Spike’s case, it was Angel. She’d felt the underlying tension between the two at Wolfram and Hart, had been intrigued by it. Albeit annoyed as well, but intrigued.

But now some sort of exchange was occurring between herself and Angel and now more than ever, Buffy wanted to hear what was being said. The more of these things she witnessed the easier it was going to be to regain her memory.


~**~



“Do you really think that's an option anymore? You're standing at the Mouth of Hell. And it's about to open. Don't turn your back on this. You've gotta be ready.”

“What for?”

“For the Harvest.”

“Who are you?”

“Let's just say... I'm a friend.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don't want a friend.”

“I didn't say I was yours.”


~**~

Typical was what it was. Spike should have known better. Of course Red would throw the whole Angel nonsense into the mix. To serve one purpose and one purpose alone…show Buffy that the grass was greener on the other side. Pfft. He’d show her.

His Buffy, the one standing beside him that is, was staring ahead curiously at the exchange between herself and the Poof. Spike cocked his head to the side slightly and studied the scene taking place before him. Slowly, he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, which caused her to jump and whip around.

“Let’s push off, love. Nothing else to see here,” Spike mumbled, taking her hand and pulling her away. Buffy stumbled as Spike tugged her hand and then stopped which made Spike halt abruptly and whip around. “Let’s go love. Things to do, places to be!”

Buffy regarded him evenly, folding her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes. Suddenly, she began to laugh. At first it was a chuckle and then it was a full-fledged guffaw. Now Spike was right pissed off. Who was she to laugh at him? He had pain here, genuine pain and the bint was laughing her ass off about it.

“Go on, love. Laugh it up,” Spike muttered and turned on his heel. “I might just have to leave you here in cheesy teenager-land.”

He started to walk away, but in moments Buffy had caught up to him, grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Gently, she looped her arms around Spike’s neck and pulled him closer. Her eyes searched his in the darkness and before Spike could think or even move, she had lowered her lips over his in a soft gentle kiss.

She broke the kiss, looked over her shoulder at herself and Angel, who were seemingly frozen where she’d left them and then turned back to Spike.

“You’re jealous,” she murmured softly, lifting a fingertip and tracing it over his chiseled features. “Have you always acted this way, or is Angel the only one who brings it out in you?” Spike snorted and shook his head, unable to answer her question. But Buffy didn’t need him to voice what she already knew to be true.

Spike was jealous of the past she and Angel had apparently shared. Buffy didn’t know what Willow was trying to prove with this memory, but she didn’t like it one bit.

Leaning closer, Buffy pressed another kiss to Spike’s lips, hoping that with a little encouragement on her part she could smooth away some of the rough edges, reassure Spike that she was his, only his. Prove to him that it would stay that way, that no broody two-hundred year old ex-boyfriend was going to stand in the way of how she felt or who she truly belonged with.

And what was up with that, anyway? Had she always been attracted to vampires, or was it just a Slayer thing? Buffy shook the thought away and concentrated on what was before her. Lips of Spike…mmm…

She applied the slightest hint of pressure with her mouth, probed his mouth with her tongue until it fell open, allowing her to deepen the kiss, intertwine their tongues, make love to his mouth…just show him that she was here, their love was real and that Spike could trust her.

She smiled against Spike’s mouth as he groaned, wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her closer, grinding his erection into her belly.

It was working like a charm.


~**~

After the encounter with Angel, Buffy had needed some time to work things through in her head. Things were falling into place now; she was starting to regain bits and pieces of the things she thought she had lost forever.

She remembered her mother’s name, it was Joyce, and she remembered her address in Sunnydale, which was 1630 Revello Drive. She also remembered her friends, Xander and Willow, her Watcher Rupert Giles, recalled when she’d met them on her very first day at Sunnydale High when she was sixteen years old.

The spell was working.

A few more forays into her memories and she would have it all back again. She didn’t know what was she was going to find once she and Spike delved even deeper into the abyss of her memories, but she was relieved to discover she wasn’t scared anymore. Bring it on, that was her philosophy.


~**~

Spike knew that the worst was yet to come. He didn’t let on to Buffy, because she was so happy right now, happy that some of her most treasured memories were finally resurfacing. But she had no idea what was coming, what lie in wait for her.

But Spike knew.

Buffy was probably thinking that this trip was going to be hearts and roses, happy fuzzy memories to make her feel all warm inside.

Buffy knew that she was the ‘Chosen One’. But she hadn’t fully grasped the reality of her calling, the loneliness of it, the danger. But she was going to see first-hand wasn’t she?

And there wasn’t a damn thing Spike could do to stop what was coming, what Buffy would have to see. All he could do was hold her hand, reassure her of his presence and try not to get jealous anymore.

Bloody hell, was he that see- through?

All these years and the persona he’d been trying to hold up for himself and all it had taken was one bloody glance from the Slayer and she could read him like an open book.

A wry smile lifted the corner of Spike’s mouth.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind that Buffy could read him like that. He’d waited so long, lived through so much pain to get to this point with her. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he would live to see the day where she willingly stepped into his arms and allowed herself to be taken in by him.

But what would happen when she saw a different shade of the Spike that she knew? Oh, he’d given her a little taste of the monster he’d been once before, but she hadn’t seen the worst of it yet.

They’d have to burn that bloody bridge when they crossed it.

For now he’d keep his mouth shut.

Even if it hurt like hell.

Buffy had to know these things and Spike still found that he needed reassuring.

The next memories would be a test…a true test of her love for him.

Would Buffy stand up to the challenge?

Spike hoped so.


~**~


End of Chapter Fifteen
 

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