Summary: Sequel to Bring Me To Life. What if Spike had a chance to go back to the beginning? Could he change the outcome of their fate, or has it already been pre-determined? Follow them on this new and somewhat mystical journey, as they rediscover what it means to live and love.
Author's Notes: *gulp* I just couldn't resist. That is all.
Rating: NC-17
Prologue: Life or Something Like It
Spike Tyler picked up his pace, as he walked down the narrow sidewalk of 6th Street.
It was a dreary day in Los Angeles, California. A cold drizzle spilled down from the grey clouds above, darkening his already dismal mood. He spared his watch a glance and cursed under his breath when he realized how late he was.
He broke into a jog, occasionally bumping into an annoyed passer by. Soon, his apartment complex appeared on the right and he approached the large building with relief. He entered quickly, shaking the rain water out of his blonde hair, and ran up the staircase to his room.
"Sorry I'm late. What did I miss?"
Willow already sat on the couch, tossing a few kernels of buttery popcorn into her mouth. "Oh, nothing much. Kelly just broke up with Jeremy."
"Bloody hell. I missed that?"
"Behold the wonders of a blank tape and crappy, yet still reliable, VCR."
Spike glanced at the television, noting that the record button was lit a lovely shade of red. "You're the best, love."
"I know," she smiled happily.
He had met the mousy Willow Rosenberg when he decided to take a psych class a few months ago at the local community college. She asked him to be her partner for a project she was working on and he agreed, desperate for the companionship. They had become fast friends.
Willow was a shy, bi-sexual redhead who had recently broken up with her long-time girlfriend, Tara. She showed up at his doorstep one night, sobbing her heart out because she had nowhere left to go, so Spike decided to let her move in with him. Their relationship was entirely platonic and he loved Willow like a sister. She was quirky and fun, but most importantly, always there for him. And he was there for her, too. They both came from difficult pasts, and sometimes, when that past emerged from the darkest part of their being and swallowed them whole, they were right there, bringing each other back to shallow waters.
It had been eight months since Spike was released from his prison sentence. It took a while for him to confide this part of his life with Willow, but she accepted it. Just like he accepted the parts of her life that she wasn't particularly proud of. She knew all about Buffy and he knew all about Tara. The only difference was that he had left that part of himself behind, while Willow was still living in the past. Ever since her messy break-up, she had been practicing witchcraft. She said if she worked hard enough, she could find a way to make Tara change her mind and take her back.
Spike didn't try to stop her. He didn't believe in magic or necessarily agree with what she was doing, but he knew better than to shatter her dreams of something better--of something more. Sometimes it was all a person really had.
"Oh!" Willow suddenly squeaked, bouncing up and down in her seat. "I knew it!"
He plopped down next to her, an amused smirk in place. "Yesterday you said there was no way Carson was behind the murders. So, don't even bother pulling that hindsight bias crap with me, Red. We studied it together, remember?"
She smacked him playfully on the arm. "I'm not, you big poo. I really did know."
Spike arched a brow.
"I read spoilers," she admitted sheepishly.
He stuffed his hand into the bowl of popcorn, shoveling the salty pieces into his mouth. "You're a disappointment to us all."
"Hey! I resent that."
A popcorn kernel suddenly bounced off his head. He gaped at her for a moment in mock-astonishment, before reaching for another fistful and doing the same. She yelped and immediately retaliated. It wasn't long before the entire living room was covered in popcorn--that is, until Willow realized that since she was holding the bowl, she could deny him access to the tiny weapons. When he attempted to grab some more, she quickly raised the bowl.
A little too quickly.
"Crap!" she pouted, watching as it clattered to the floor. "And all over my eye of rat, too!"
Spike wiped his greasy hands on his jeans and made a face. "Eye of rat? Bloody hell. If I'd known about that little accessory, no way would I have let you move in with me."
She stuck her tongue out at him and leaned over the side of the couch to clean up the mess. "Actually, it's for a new spell I've been working on."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yep. I figure, if I can't find the right spell to change the past for me, maybe I can go back and change it myself."
He frowned. "How do you figure?"
"Well, it's complicated and beyond anything I've ever dabbled in before. But I've been working on it for almost two months now and I think I'm getting close to something."
"So, that heinous smell that's been filterin' through the apartment has been your eye of rat soufflé?"
"It's for a good cause!" she argued.
He shrugged. "Tell me about this spell. What does it do exactly?"
Excited that he was finally interested in her magic, she sat up with a huge grin. "Time travel," she explained. "I want to go back in time and make things right with Tara."
"Sounds dangerous."
"It is," she agreed. "It's practically impossible. But I might be able to pull it off."
"I don't like you messin' with this kinda stuff, Red. You'll get yourself hurt."
"You don't need to worry about me. Besides, I thought you didn't believe in it, anyway?"
"I don't."
"So, what's the fuss?"
He sighed. "I just worry about you. You need to try and let go of Tara. She's gone, pet. It's over."
"Not to me," she bit out, her eyes narrowing. "And just because you're still not all cry-face over your precious Buffy, doesn't mean I have to move on, too."
Spike turned his head, stung.
Willow had the decency to look shamefaced. "I-I'm sorry, Spike. I didn't mean to say her name."
"Forget it," he said softly.
"No, really. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Look, Will. Do what you need to do, but just promise me that you'll be careful."
She nodded. "I promise. And I really am sorry."
The pain was evident on his face and Spike knew he would be spending the rest of the night mending old wounds. Willow's eyes were wide and tearful, as she placed a sympathetic hand upon his knee. She had never used Buffy against him like that before, but he wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. He knew she was sorry and he knew well enough that holding grudges only served to make one miserable.
He stood up with a weary sigh. "I'm off to bed. See you in the morning."
"What about our show? It looks like Sarah's about to get naked with Frankie," she noted.
"I'll watch it tomorrow. 'Night, Red."
She gave him a sad smile. "Goodnight, Spike."
When he was safe in the confinements of his own room, he leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. Her pretty faced danced before him, her soulful, green eyes making his heart ache. He still loved her. He still wanted her. He still cared for her more than anything.
But most of all, he still missed her.
And he knew that he always would.
Sunlight trickled in through a nearby window and Spike groaned in response, his head pounding and his eyes burning.
"Rise and shine, sleepy head!" came the perky voice, as Willow bounded into his bedroom.
"Feels like there's a bloody freight train in my noggin," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced at the clock, realizing that it was already past noon.
Willow yelped when she almost tripped over an empty bottle of rum. She glared at the blonde sitting on the bed. "Were you drinking last night?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Spike..."
"What? I was depressed, so I got sloshed. Stranger things have happened."
She sighed, setting down the tray of breakfast she had made for him. "I'm guessing you're not too hungry then? I made you blueberry waffles. They're a special batch."
"How so?" he inquired, his stomach grumbling when the sweet aroma filled his nostrils.
"Well, they're my 'I'm really sorry for what I said last night can you please forgive me' waffles..."
He smiled. "You're forgiven, love. Now give 'em here."
Her face brightened and she handed him the tray, taking a place next to him on the queen-sized bed. "I just feel so blah, you know? I made you get drunk. You haven't gotten drunk in forever."
"It was a long time coming," he explained, taking a big bite of the tasty meal. He glanced at her, deciding to change the subject. "You work today?"
"Nope. Benny needed the extra cash, so I gave him my shift. But I'm working overtime next weekend. What about you?"
"I go in at five."
They both worked at a popular nightclub called The Bronze. Spike was a bartender and Willow was a waitress. The pay was decent and the tips were exceptional, so they never really had any problems financially.
"Faith works that shift," Willow declared, eyeing him for a reaction. He continued to eat, as if she hadn't said anything. "Yep. She goes in at five... like you. You'll be working together... just you and Faith..."
Spike set his fork down. "It's not working, Red."
"Oh, jeez. I wasn't wearing my convincing face. Lemme try again." She raised her chin and pursed her lips. "Faith works that shift," she repeated. "Yep. She goes in at five--"
"Willow, I'm not goin' to court Faith."
"Why?" she demanded. "Faith is hot and obviously has a thing for you."
"We've been over this already."
"Spike, you haven't been with anyone since..." She caught herself. "It's been a really long time. Twelve years type of long. Aren't you lonely?"
"No," he said.
"I don't believe you."
"Well, start believin' it."
She sighed. "I know how you used to feel about women, and I know that a part of you still probably feels that way. But there's some really great girls out there who would be lucky to have a guy like you. You just need to get out there and start living again."
This got his attention and he turned to face her. "I'm forty years old, Will. Not to mention, I spent twelve years in a prison cell because I kidnapped and threatened to murder someone. Lucky wouldn't be the word I'd use."
"You know what I mean. Besides, that's not who you are anymore. Buffy would have wanted you to move on."
"Buffy is dead."
She put her head down. "I-I know."
Spike shoved his tray aside and stood up. "And so is this conversation."
Willow watched as he disappeared out the door. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering what it would take to get through to him. She supposed it wasn't her place to talk, considering she had yet to let go of Tara, but this was different. Tara was still alive. They could still work things out. But Buffy...
She frowned, a thought suddenly coming to mind. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an emerald crystal, running her fingers lightly over the rugged edges.
No, Spike would never go for that.
Still, the idea intrigued her. With her mind racing and heart pounding, she slipped the crystal back into her pocket and dashed out of the room.
~~~
Spike tried his best to ignore the woman hanging all over him, as he mixed the vodka and cranberry juice together for a customer.
"So, uh... if I'm not doing anything tonight, and you're not doing anything tonight..."
"That'll be $4.50." A man handed him the cash. "Thanks, mate."
"Are you even listening?"
He finally faced the attractive brunette. "I can't, Faith."
"Why not? Look, I can tell you've got issues with the whole dating scene, but I can go slow. Ya know, steer you around the curves and shit." She thrust her ample cleavage in his face with a wink. "Whaddya say?"
"I can't."
"Are you gay or something? How could you not wanna hit this?"
He chuckled. "No, I'm not--"
Xander suddenly poked his head out from the back room. "Spike's gay?" he asked hopefully.
"I'm not bloody gay!"
Faith continued to push. "Then what's the big? It's just one date."
"I don't date."
"So, what, you're a wham-bam-thank you-mam kinda guy?" She beamed. "I'm game for that!"
Spike wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. Didn't this chit ever give up? "Look, Faith. You're a good lookin' bird and any man would be lucky to have you. But... I'm not that man. Alright?"
She stared at him for a moment, before tossing the towel she was holding down on the counter and storming away. "Whatever," she grumbled and disappeared into the back room.
Spike's jaw clenched as he watched her go. Maybe Willow was right. Maybe he should get out there and start living again. Sure, he was forty, but he didn't look it. And as much as he tried to convince himself that Buffy was behind him, she still influenced his decisions day after day. He hadn't looked at a woman with romantic intentions at all since her passing. Just the thought of being with someone intimately--someone who wasn't Buffy--well, it was too much to bear.
"Did you just turn down Faith again, man?" a male voice interrupted his thoughts.
He turned around to see his shift manager, Xander, standing there. "Yeah," he said.
"You are one strange pup," he shook his head.
Spike frowned. "Am not. I'm just... uninterested."
"In Faith? Is that even possible?"
"You know, why is everyone so bloody curious about my love life, anyway?"
He shrugged. "You're a handsome fella who turns down girls left and right and denies being involved or being gay. It's a fascinating thing."
"And it's none of your damn business," he reminded.
"Whoa, now. Let's not get all crazy here." He put his hands up in defense. "I'm just saying. People are bound to talk."
Spike eyed the back room, watching as Faith busied herself with some mundane task. "Maybe you're right," he sighed. "Maybe I should just take Faith out and forget about the past."
"Atta boy," Xander smiled, slapping his friend on the back. "Now we're talking."
"I don't even know what qualifies as a date anymore. Dinner and a show?"
"A girl like Faith? I'm thinking lots and lots of sex."
He blinked. "Right."
"Listen, I'll let you off early tonight, okay? Make the most of it." Xander grinned and walked away to serve a customer.
Spike stood there for a moment, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Deciding not to even think about it, he took a deep breath and approached Faith. He cleared his throat and she whipped around, her dark hair spilling around her shoulders.
"Uh, hey," he said awkwardly.
"Hey, yourself."
"I, uh... I'm sorry for actin' like a git back there. Would you like to go out tonight?"
A pearly, white grin broke out across her face. "Hell yes!"
He shifted uncomfortably on both feet, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Right then. I'll meet you outside after we get off."
She arched a brow.
"After we get off work," he corrected.
"Sounds swell. See you then." She gave him another winning smile and sauntered back out to the front counter.
Spike sighed. Bollocks.
~~~
The minute their shift ended and they left the building, Faith attacked him. He was pressed up against a brick wall in no time, her tongue plundering his startled mouth.
"Mmm," she moaned, grinding her supple body against his.
His immediate reaction was to push her off, but he resisted the temptation. He could do this. Besides, kissing Faith wasn't so bad--she was warm and willing in his arms, and she tasted like cherry pie.
Spike raised a hand to tangle it in her soft mane, pulling her closer to him. She smiled against his mouth and reached down, cupping his growing erection in her hand.
"Buffy..."
The next thing he knew, he was being shoved away, his head banging against the hard surface of the wall. "Bloody hell. What was that for?" he demanded, trying to catch his breath.
"Who the fuck is Buffy?" Her eyes were dark and furious, her lips swollen from their kisses.
Shit. "What?"
"Bu-ffy." She said the name as if he were a small child. "That's what you called me, you asshole."
"I didn't mean..." He swallowed. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head and turned on her heel. "You know what? Screw it."
Spike followed, spinning her around to face him. "Faith, wait."
"Don't fucking touch me!" she blasted, shrugging him off. "Just get the hell away from me."
"Fine!"
As Faith stormed away, he ran a hand through his platinum locks and growled, kicking a nearby garbage can. It clattered to the ground, its contents spilling into the street.
"What's going on out here?" Xander asked, suddenly appearing behind him.
"Nothing."
"But--"
He hurried past him, ignoring the confusion that was clear on his face.
"Spike!"
The chilly night air prickled at his skin, as he walked briskly down the familiar street, leaving Xander behind. He tried to block out all thoughts of the petite blonde, but it was no use. She was all around him--haunting him, possessing him. He could practically taste her.
Spike stopped in his tracks and leaned against the side of a building, forcing back the threatening onslaught of tears. He couldn't do this. The more time that passed, the more he hurt.
He slid down the cement wall and buried his head in his hands. "I'm lost without you, baby," he whispered to the night. A sob escaped him as he sat there, rocking back and forth, cradling her memory close to his heart. "So lost..."
"Bad day?"
Spike didn't even spare her a glance.
Willow stood up from the circle of powder she had made in the middle of the living room. "Sorry about the mess. I-I promise to clean it up." She stepped over to him, finally noticing his bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing. "What happened?"
He simply shook his head and walked past her, retiring to his room for the evening.
Willow flinched when the door slammed shut. "Grouchy," she muttered.
She returned to the circle, semi-grateful that he was too upset to notice her magicks. She had been working on the spell all day and she knew that she was close. Enchanting the crystal was the final process in completing her task. In order to do that, all she needed was an extra batch of Lethe's Bramble--thankfully, the local magic shop was always overstocked in that department.
She sat down Indian-style in the center of the circle and reached over to light a few candles. Then, opening up her spell book, she began reading over the incantations...
~~~
"Stop that. You know how ticklish I am."
Spike grinned. "Yeah, I do." He continued to trail his fingers lightly over her bare stomach.
Buffy smiled and attempted to swat his hand away from her sensitive skin. She failed. A giggle escaped her lips when his fingers danced more rapidly over her belly.
"I love it when you laugh," he said, finally ceasing with the tickle-torture. He scooped her up in his arms and rolled her, so she lay atop his naked body. She rested her head against his chest and let out a contented sigh. They could hear the sounds of crickets chirping somewhere in the desert; it was the only thing breaking the night's silence.
"Spike?"
"Yeah, love?" He kissed the top of her head.
She faltered for a moment before speaking. "I don't think I've ever been more happy than I am right now. Right in this moment."
His heart constricted with love for this woman and he wrapped his arms around her protectively. "Me too, baby. Me too."
"When we get to Canada, will you make love to me every night?"
"Every night," he agreed.
She lifted her head and leaned down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. "Every night."
Spike shot up in bed when he heard a loud tapping at his door. "Y-Yeah?"
"It's me," Willow said.
He ran his hands over his face and collapsed back onto the bed. The dream was still fresh in his mind and it took all of his energy to push it away. With a deep breath, he finally responded to the red head on the other side of the door, "Come in."
Willow poked her head in. "I-I'm sorry if I woke you up. It's just that it's almost one o'clock and I was worried."
"One in the afternoon?" He opened his eyes and noticed the sunlight streaming in through his window. "Right," he sighed.
"Yeah, you've been Mr. Sleepy lately. Are you okay?"
He watched as she entered the room and shut the door quietly behind her. "I'm fine, Red."
"You didn't seem so fine last night," she pointed out. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Spike, I've never seen you so depressed. There's obviously something bothering you. Besides, I'm support gal. You can tell me anything," she assured him, with a firm nod of her head.
He hesitated briefly, before sitting up. "It's nothing. I've just been... thinkin' about Buffy more lately."
She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry."
"I miss her, Will."
"I know you do." She wondered if it was the right time to tell him about the spell. Chewing nervously on her bottom lip, she scooted closer to him on the bed. "C-Can I ask you something?"
He frowned, noticing the slight glaze of fear in her eyes. "Of course."
"Well, you know that time travel spell I was working on? For me and Tara?"
Spike nodded.
"Right. Well, um... I sorta have this idea. I know you're gonna hate it and call me insane, but I really think you should take it into consideration. Okay?"
"Might help if you told me what it was."
She let out a deep breath. "I want to use the spell on you instead."
Spike stared at her incredulously, wondering if he heard her right. "Are you off your bird?"
"I'm guessing that's a British phrase so I won't bother answering it in the literal sense," she laughed lightly.
His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes, trying not to let this sudden proposition tempt him. There was no way he could let Willow send him back in time with her mojo. It was too dangerous--too risky. Hell, he didn't even believe in it. "No," he said.
"I-I know what you're thinking. But I swear I have this thing worked out. All I need to do is get some more Lethe's Bramble a-and--"
Spike glanced up at her, recognizing that particular ingredient. "That's what you used on Tara. When you tried to make her forget your fight." He shook his head. "That spell didn't even work."
"It worked!" she argued. Then she added sheepishly, "Tara just happened to find out about it."
"No way in hell, Willow."
"Spike! Just think it over, okay? I know I can do this. I-I know I can send you back to her."
"No, you can't!" he shouted, eyes wide with pain. "You can't mess with life and death like that."
"It's not like I'm resurrecting her or anything! I'm just pushing my way into another reality."
He swallowed. "I appreciate what you're tryin' to do for me, Red. But my answer is no. Buffy's gone. And even if I did believe in this rot, who's to say it'll work? What if you botch it up?"
"I won't," she said seriously. "I know what I'm doing. Besides, haven't you ever just wished you could go back in time and change something?"
"Everybody wishes it, pet. But that's all it is. A wish."
"Not when you know Willow Rosenberg," she perked up.
Still, he shook his head. "I can't."
"Please, Spike. Please just think about it. I'm giving you a chance to change things--to be with Buffy again. Don't you want that?"
"More than anything." His voice was barely a whisper. "To see her smile, to touch her face. To hear her voice. God, I loved her..."
Willow studied him. "And you still do."
"Yeah," was all he said.
"Look, I'm giving you the opportunity of a lifetime," she continued. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions and I can answer them, if you'll let me. I care about you, Spike. I want you to be happy again."
"What about you?" he suddenly realized. "I go back in time and you..."
"Yeah, I kinda go with in a way."
"Wait. So, you're willin' to have your entire life change just so I can change mine?"
She shrugged. "I'm a 33-year-old wannabe witch who waits tables at a local night club. Not so impressive. Besides, it's not like I'll know I went back in time."
"I don't understand, love. I don't understand any of this."
"I-It's complicated," she explained.
"So, I can't just go back, save Buffy, and come back here?"
"There wouldn't be a here to come back to."
He frowned. "I don't--"
"Everything is connected," Willow began. "Think about it. If Buffy was alive today, would you really be sitting here with me talking about time travel?"
"No, I'd be with Buffy."
"Exactly. You probably wouldn't even have met me. Therefore, if you go back in time and save Buffy, you couldn't return to this reality. This reality wouldn't exist. You would have changed it."
Spike nodded in understanding.
"So, you see? Nothing in this world is random. Nothing is spontaneous."
"Everything happens for a reason..."
"Destiny," she provided.
"Like fate?"
Willow shook her head. "Destiny and fate are different. Fate requires faith in certain religious philosophies, while destiny is just a fact. A force of nature."
"When did you become so smart?"
She arched a brow at him. "We've been living together for all these months and you just now realize that I'm a big, giant nerd? I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Tyler."
He smiled softly, before quickly returning to serious-mode. "Willow, what if I can't change the past? What if I still lose her? Would I be stuck in that reality forever?"
"Not necessarily." She bit her lip and pulled out the emerald crystal from her pocket. "That's what this is for."
She handed it to him, and Spike studied it carefully. "What's it do?"
"I'm going to enchant it with the essence of this reality. If you can't save her, you have the chance to return. All you need to do is break the crystal."
"Return? But I thought--"
"I know what you're going to say," she interrupted. "You break the crystal and you come back here... but nothing would have changed. That's what the Lethe's Bramble is for. It'll erase everything."
"What if I break it by accident and I don't want to come back?"
"Then you're screwed?" she offered. Off his look, she added, "But it's pretty hard to break this sucker. You need to really use some force to smash it."
Spike flopped back onto the bed and ran his hands through his tousled hair. "This is insane, Will."
She nodded. "But it could work. If you want it to."
"I would give anything to have Buffy here with me. I just don't know if this is the way. It all seems too bloody risky."
"Everything is risky, Spike," she said. "Do you want to do this? Do you want to go back in time and try to save Buffy?"
He glanced at her. This girl was serious--Willow really wanted to send him through realities using magic he'd never let himself believe even existed.
It was crazy. And dangerous.
And tempting as fuck.
He had a chance to save Buffy. He had a chance to live that life with her--the one that they had both wanted so desperately, but was just out of reach. He would be able to hold her again and tell her how much he loved her. He would be able to look into her beautiful, green eyes and see the way her smile lit up her face.
These were all things he never thought he'd ever do again.
And now, Willow was offering him that chance. Who was he to turn it down?
Spike finally nodded his head and regarded his friend. "Yes," he told her. "I want to go back."
Spike entered the living room that night to find Willow rambling out Latin incantations inside of a white powdered circle. Candles were lit all around her and the crystal she held was glowing with bright, green energy. He hesitated before making himself known.
Was this really what he wanted to do? He had established some semblance of a life after Buffy's death. Sure, most of it had been spent in a jail cell, but what about Willow? He loved Willow like a sister. Was he really willing to lose her for something that may not even work?
He had so many questions. He didn't want to go through with this until every single one of them was answered.
Clearing his throat, Spike approached his friend.
"Hi," she greeted, setting down the crystal and closing the spell book. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
"No, I'm... just a bit nervous, I s'pose."
"Understandable. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared out of my underoos."
He smiled. "I'm gonna miss you, Red."
"Yeah, well, I'd say 'miss you, too', but technically I won't. 'Cause of the whole not knowing you thing," she said. Then she added a sheepish, "Sorry."
"I can't believe I'm actually doin' this," he sighed. "How much time do we have?"
"Whenever you're ready."
Spike began to pace. "Tell me everything about this spell. How it works, what's gonna happen. I mean, am I goin' to jump through hoops to get there or what?"
"No, that would be a physical transport. Which is way more advanced than anything I could pull off. It would involve portals and two Spikes and other complicated stuff like that."
"Two Spikes?"
"Well, yeah. If we transport your physical body from this reality to the other reality, there would be two of you running around. The 'you' I'm talking to now and the 'you' from the past," she explained. "Which would be kinda awkward."
"So, how the hell am I getting there then?"
"Through a state of consciousness. Also known as the 'subtle body'. I'm basically going to combine your essence with the Spike from the past, while you're under the thrall of the spell. So, it'll be 28-year-old Spike, with the memories and knowledge of 40-year-old Spike. You'll remember everything."
He looked at her incredulously. "You can really do this?"
"Yup. Impressed?"
"Very. Not to mention slightly intimidated."
She laughed. "I've been dabbling in this stuff all my life. Not necessarily time travel, but magic in general. And actually, time travel can exist outside of the mystical realms. We have the brainpower to pull it off--we just don't have that kind of energy in the universe. That's where my trusty magical abilities come in."
"You're wonderful, you know that?"
Willow winked at him. "Well, duh."
"Just making sure," he smiled. Then he sighed. "So, what about this crystal of yours? If this is just a state of mind, how is it getting there? I obviously can't take it with me."
"Oh, that's easy. Just a simple transporter spell. It goes hand in hand with the time traveling, so it'll end up where you end up. You don't need to worry about it."
"I'll have the crystal when I get there then?"
"Sure thing. It would kinda suck if you didn't."
He nodded. "Where am I goin' to end up exactly?"
"That's up to you."
"How do you figure?"
"Well, you have to concentrate on an exact period of time to which you want to return. If I didn't already tell you, this whole process requires great physical, psychological, and mental preparation. You need to be in a state of perfect calm. Can you do that?"
"I'll try," he said.
"Then you're all set."
Spike took a deep breath and joined Willow in the circle. "What are you goin' back to?" he wondered.
"Oh, hmm. Well, I'll probably have already graduated from Sunnydale High, so I guess I'll be going back to my college years," she noted. "Good times."
"Sunnydale High," he mused. "Buffy lived in Sunnydale."
"Yeah, you told me."
"I just never really thought about it before. Do you think you two went to high school together?"
"I honestly don't remember her," she told him. "I-I mean, I suppose it's possible. I would have been a year or two ahead of her, I think."
"Do you still have your yearbook?"
Willow thought for a moment. "Actually, I do. Want me to check it out for you?"
"If it's no trouble."
"Not at all. I'm on it," she smiled and skipped off to fetch the book.
When she returned, she took her seat next to Spike and began flipping through the pages. "Wow. Memories," she reminisced.
"Anything?"
"Still looking." Willow turned to the back of the book where it listed the names of all of the students. "What was her last name again? Simmons?"
"Summers."
"Hmm... oh! Buffy Summers," she exclaimed, pointing to the name. "Huh. I never would've thought..."
Spike's head shot up. "Really?"
"Yeah. I didn't know her, though. It looks like she would have graduated with the class of '02."
"Would have?" he frowned.
"I-I'm not sure. It looks as if she dropped out at the beginning of Junior year."
His eyes lit with realization. "She didn't finish school because of the accident. She was blind."
"Oh, right," Willow agreed. "That would be it."
"Is... there a picture?" he asked, gulping back the pain of possibly seeing her face again.
"There should be. Lemme look." She flipped through the pages once more and stopped at the Sophomore class of '00. Her eyes scanned through the array of unfamiliar faces until she spotted the pretty blonde. "You're right. She was beautiful."
Spike took the book and looked down at the small picture. It was her, alright. And she was just as incredible as he remembered. Her hair was a bit shorter and lighter--it looked to be a bleached blonde instead the golden tresses he had grown to love. She still had some of her baby fat on her, giving her a healthy glow. Her face was painted with pastels and she was wearing a shirt that said 'Cutie' across the front of it.
He swallowed and lightly touched the picture with his index finger.
Willow smiled to herself, before snatching the book away from him. "No need to get all caught up in the past. 'Cause, you know, you're going there."
He shook the painful memories from his head. "Right. The spell."
"A-Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," he sighed.
She nodded. "Good. Now, all you have to do is get comfy. This might take a while..."
~~~
Spike was vaguely aware of his redheaded friend chanting in Latin a few feet in front of him. The more he forced his mind into an entirely composed and peaceful state, the farther away Willow sounded. Part of him yearned to grasp onto her, but that was the part that was holding him back. He needed to clear his mind of all things present and concentrate on the only thing that really mattered right now.
Buffy.
It wasn't long before Willow disappeared from his consciousness altogether. It was as if he was floating. His entire being was relaxed--both emotionally and physically. And as soon as he reached that pivotal state of mind, a blinding, white light surrounded him. His ears popped, his head throbbed in pain, his heart thudded erratically against his chest, and his muscles tensed in fearful anticipation. He shut his eyes in response to the unfamiliar force and clenched his fists together as hard as he could. Even though his body was still, it felt as if he was moving a million miles per hour.
And then suddenly, he opened his eyes and was lying in bed.
Spike looked around the room, recognizing it immediately. It was his apartment.
Was it all a dream?
He was about to call for Willow, when he rolled over and something sharp poked him in the side. He looked down curiously, only to find the emerald crystal sitting on his bed.
It worked. Willow's spell had worked.
A sense of giddiness washed over him when realization struck. He had a chance to save Buffy.
Buffy.
He had to find her. He had to see her.
But where was she? And why wasn't he at the hotel?
Spike quickly got out of bed, changed into his t-shirt and jeans, and then hurried down the stairs and out the door.
It was dark outside. The stars twinkled in the night sky, as he approached his black DeSoto. A thought struck him, though, and he turned to the woman who was entering the apartment complex.
She jumped back startled. "Can I help you, sir?"
"What day is it?" Spike asked her.
"It's... Thursday."
"I mean, the date. What's the date?"
The woman frowned. "September 12th."
"And the year?"
"Sir, are you quite alright?"
He ignored her. "What year is it?"
Finally, she sighed. "2000," she said and made a swift exit into the building.
September 12, 2000.
Spike took a step back, stunned.
It was the night of the accident.
As soon as realization struck, Spike got into his car and drove to the only place he could think of.
Willy's.
It was 10:55pm, and if he remembered the newspaper articles he had researched correctly, the accident happened a little after midnight. That meant he had barely an hour to prevent the accident, save the lives of Staci Newman and Riley Finn, save Buffy from a life of blindness, and save Willy from the murder he would commit three years from now.
Needless to say, he was feeling the pressure.
Spike reached into his pocket with a shaking hand and pulled out a cigarette. He had no idea how he was going to stop this from happening. He was only one man--how could he possibly save all these lives in a single night?
And why was he even here? Didn't he want to return to the period of time in which he was with Buffy?
But then he realized that he probably never could have saved her then. She would have still been blind and Willy would have still been out for her blood. They would have been running from the cops and Spike would have most likely suffered a similar jail sentence for kidnapping her.
Somehow, his subconscious had decided that this was where he needed to go. He had a chance to prevent it all before it even started. Buffy could live the life she deserved and they had a chance to actually be happy together.
Fifteen minutes went by, before Spike finally reached Willy's house. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed his friend's car dormant in the driveway. I'm not too late.
He immediately pushed open his car door and jumped out, running towards the house at lightning speed. Willy and Staci met him at the front porch.
"Hey there, Tyler. Miss me already?" the shorter man smirked, taking his girlfriend's hand and leading her onto the porch along with him.
Spike couldn't help the pang of resentment that coursed through him upon seeing Willy Thompson again. Knowing what he did--knowing what he was capable of doing...
"What can I do for ya?" Willy eventually asked, when Spike just stood there. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."
Spike stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "You can't go out tonight."
Willy and Staci shared a confused glance.
"We were just heading to the drugstore," Staci explained. "What's--"
"I'll go," Spike interrupted.
Willy shook his head, worriedly. "You've obviously been drinking, so how 'bout you crash here while me and my girl run out. Alright, pal?"
"No! You can't. You can't get into that car."
"You're freakin' me out here, Tyler," Willy said, before pushing his way down the cement steps.
Spike immediately cut in front of him. "You don't understand, mate. Just let me go instead. What do you need?"
"I need for you to get out of my way," he warned.
Staci placed a soothing hand on Willy's arm. "Let him go, sweetie."
"You heard the lady," Spike nodded. "'Sides, remember when you fixed my car and I said I'd owe you a favor? Consider this the favor."
"Goin' to the drugstore when we're perfectly capable of goin' ourselves?"
Spike growled in frustration. "You'll thank me later. Trust me. Now, what do you need from the store?"
Willy sighed and finally relented. "Staci had a craving for double fudge ice cream. Thought we'd make a quick stop."
Ice cream? Spike thought, incredulously. All of this happened because of ice cream? He cleared his throat. "Double fudge. Got it. Anything else?"
Willy glanced at his girlfriend and she shook her head. "No, that's it. But listen, friend. You don't look so hot. Maybe you should just--"
"I've got it covered," Spike assured him. "Be back in a few."
"You better as hell explain yourself when you get back here," he said to his friend's retreating form.
Spike just raised his hand in acknowledgement and jumped into the car, pulling out of the driveway and taking off down the familiar stretch of road.
A sense of relief washed over him when he realized that his friends were out of harm's way. He had succeeded.
But now he had to try and find Buffy and stop her and Riley from getting into that car. Just because Willy and Staci were out of the picture, didn't mean an accident wasn't going to happen. They were drunk--anything was possible. He glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost 11:30pm. He had a half an hour to try and track down Buffy.
Unfortunately, he had no clue where to even look. All he knew was that they were at a house party somewhere in Sunnydale. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. They could be anywhere.
Spike cursed under his breath, desperately searching his mind for any information Buffy may have shared with him. A name, a street, anything...
Nothing. He had nothing.
The only option left was to call Buffy's house and ask her parents where she was. With a resigned sigh, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed 411.
"City," came a young woman's voice on the other end.
"Uh, Sunnydale," Spike replied.
"Last name?"
"Summers."
"Hmm, let me see..." The sound of clicking keys could be heard in the background. "Two numbers come up. Is the first name Thomas or Hank?"
Bloody hell. "Not sure. I'll take them both."
She spouted off the phone numbers and Spike hung up. He decided to go with Thomas first.
No answer.
He quickly dialed the number for Hank Summers, praying it was the correct one. It rang three times, before a woman finally picked up.
"Hello?"
Spike swallowed. "Uh, hi. Is Buffy home?"
"No, I'm sorry. She went out for the night."
He looked up and mouthed a 'thank you' to the sky. "I see. Can you tell me where exactly she went?"
"Oh, well, she said she was going to a party. May I ask who's calling?"
"I'm... a friend from school," he opted with.
"If you give me your name, I'll tell her you called," the woman said.
"It's kind of an emergency," he explained, growing anxious. "See, we're workin' on this project together and I need her opinion on something."
"It's past eleven. Can't you discuss it with her tomorrow at school?"
Spike sighed. "It's important that I get this done tonight."
The woman paused, before speaking again. "She said she was going to Forrest Mitchell's birthday party. Do you know him?"
"Right. I heard about that party. I'll try to catch her there."
"Alright."
"Thank you, Mrs. Summers."
He hung up and immediately dialed 411 for Forrest Mitchell. After jotting down the phone number, he called the house.
"Pick up the bloody phone," he grumbled, as if that would make the resident suddenly answer. He was about to disconnect after the tenth ring, when a young man finally picked up.
"Talk to me," said the voice.
Spike could barely hear him over the loud music in the background. "Hey. I was plannin' on stoppin' by for the party. What's your address again?"
"Who is this?"
"A friend of Buffy Summers..." he tried, hoping that would be enough.
"Summers? Hold on, lemme get her."
"What? No!" he said quickly, eyes widening. "I just need your address. I'll talk to her when I get there."
The man sighed. "Just a second, dude. I'll ask Forrest."
Spike waited on the line for a moment, listening as two seemingly drunk teenagers exchanged words. Eventually, someone returned.
"265 Manchester Street," the voice supplied.
"Thanks, mate. I appreciate it."
"Sure, man. Oh, but if you're looking for Summers, she already left."
Spike froze. "What?"
"Yeah, her and Finn took off just a few minutes ago."
His blood ran cold. That meant they were already on the road. "Thanks," he managed, trying to stifle the obvious fear in his voice. Then he clicked off his phone and tossed it onto the seat next to him, pressing his foot harder against the gas pedal.
He glanced at the clock.
11:48.
He instinctively sped up even more, desperate to find her somehow. There had to be a way to make sure she got home safe and sound.
As he turned the corner, a black BMW suddenly came into view. It was swerving dramatically down the road, heading towards him at a dangerous speed.
Spike slowed down, hoping the car remained in its own lane.
It didn't.
Before he had time to slam on the brakes, the car veered left, approaching him head on.
All Spike could do was turn the wheel as far left as it would go and pray that the car missed him.
Unfortunately, luck was not on his side that night. The BMW struck the right side of his tail end, flipping the DeSoto over, and sending it clear over the small embankment cliff.
The last thought that entered his mind before he lost consciousness, was that he hoped Buffy made it home okay...
Buffy Summers held the steering wheel in a death grip, as her wide eyes stared blankly ahead of her. The shock of what had just happened was enough to break through the drunken haze she'd felt only moments ago.
Riley stirred next to her. "Buffy?" he mumbled.
It was as if she just realized he was in the car with her. She turned to look at him and winced when she saw the blood oozing from a deep gash on his forehead. "Y-You're bleeding," she said.
He glanced at her. "So are you."
Buffy raised her fingertips to her temple and felt the warm, wet blood dripping down the side of her face. She looked to her right and noticed that her window was cracked. "Riley..."
"Are you okay, Buffy? We should get you to a hospital."
"Riley..." Tears began to well up in her eyes. "I..."
"What is it?"
"I-I think I killed somebody," she whispered, softly.
Riley swallowed back the lump of fear in his throat and finally turned his head to look out the window. There, lying at the bottom of a small hill, was what was left of the vehicle they had hit. It was upside down, smoke rising from off of the heap of metal. "We need to get out of here," he quickly stated.
Her head shot up, the action causing the contusion on her temple to throb mercilessly. "What do you mean? We need to help them. We... we need to--"
"No. Let's just go."
"What if they're still alive?" she demanded. "I have to know. I can't just walk away from this, Riley!"
He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrific display before them. "We'll get in so much trouble. We should just get out of here while there's still time..."
But Buffy was already out of the car. She wobbled, her legs hesitant to hold her weight. She leaned against the car for a moment in order to gain her strength, and then began to approach the vehicle. A sharp pain twisted in her side and she wondered if she had done more damage than she thought.
"Buffy!" Riley called out to her.
She ignored him.
"Buffy, my phone."
This got her attention and she turned around, feeling stupid for not thinking about that. She hurried back over to Riley and snatched the cell phone from his hand. Her own hands were shaking as she punched in the three numbers. "H-Hello? My name is Buffy. I, um, had an accident." Teardrops spilled down her soft cheeks and she bit down on her lower lip in an attempt to keep a sob from escaping. "I-I hit somebody. They might be dead... oh, god... they might be dead..."
Riley got out of the car and was at her side, holding the trembling girl in his arms. He took the phone from her and explained what happened, while Buffy buried her face against his chest and cried.
Less than ten minutes later, two ambulances and three squad cars came roaring around the bend, sirens blasting. It didn't take long for them to find the tragedy at the bottom of the grassy hill, and the two teenagers watched as officers and EMTs hurried down with stretchers and medical equipment in hand.
An officer approached them then, taking in their battered appearance. "I'm Officer Brooks. Care to explain what happened here?"
Buffy cowered under the authority, shamed at what she had done. "I-I... I, um..."
"We had a little too much to drink," Riley admitted. "I let Buffy take over the wheel and... well, that's what happened..." He gestured to the wreck behind the officer.
Officer Brooks jotted down some notes. "Driving under the influence. How old are you two?"
"I'm seventeen," Riley said. "Buffy is sixteen."
"Old enough to answer for herself," he replied sternly. "Miss?"
"That's right," she nodded, unable to look the officer in the eyes.
Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by an excited voice. "He's alive!" a man exclaimed.
Buffy and Riley both let out simultaneous sighs of relief.
"I'll be right back," Officer Brooks told them, and then headed over to join the other men.
The two watched as the broken man with a shock of white hair was carefully pulled from the car and placed onto a stretcher.
"There's so much blood," Buffy said, her voice barely audible. Bile rose to her throat and a new wave of tears threatened to spill. "I can't watch this."
Riley swallowed and nodded in agreement, facing away from the scene down below. "He's alive, though, Buffy. You didn't kill him."
She pulled away from her boyfriend then, remembering what he had almost made her do. "I can't believe you wanted to leave," she accused, anger dripping from her words. "If I left, he would be dead for sure."
"I'm sorry. I just freaked out," he explained, guilt coursing through him. "I was wrong. You were right to want to help him."
Buffy shook her head, keeping her distance from Riley. "I still can't believe you would do that."
He sighed and leaned back against his BMW. The front end was smashed in and he cringed--his father was going to kill him for sure.
Buffy wrapped her arms around her shivering body, as the man was lifted into the ambulance. Not giving herself a chance to think, she hurried over to them before they closed the doors. "C-Can I come with?" she asked.
The doors slammed in her face.
"Sorry," Officer Brooks told her. "He needs immediate medical attention. If you have any injuries you want checked, you're welcome to ride in the second ambulance."
She was about to decline, when the pain in her side reemerged. "Actually, I think I will," she said.
Buffy looked over at Riley, gesturing to the ambulance. He nodded and followed her inside.
The short ride to the hospital was made in silence and there was only one thing that filtered through Buffy's mind.
Please let him be okay...
~~~
Spike was aware of exactly two things when his eyes finally fluttered open. The excruciating and almost unbearable pain that raked through his entire body--and the familiar presence currently looming over the side of his bed. He tried to turn his head to look at the small figure, but quickly found that even the slightest movement had him on the verge of crying out in sheer agony.
She must have noticed his consciousness, because a moment later, she was out the door. All Spike saw was a flash of blonde hair disappear from his room and he was alone once again. He wanted so badly to see her--to touch her and kiss her and wrap his arms around her soft body. But for now, he was simply content with the knowledge that she was okay and had obviously made it home safely.
A few minutes later, a nurse entered his room. Spike could see Buffy lingering just outside of his room, but then the door shut and she was gone from his sight.
"I'm Karen," said the nurse, as she approached his bedside. "Welcome back."
"How long was I..." His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. "How long was I out for?"
"Almost a week," she replied. "But you've been in and out of consciousness. Mostly out. Are you in a lot of pain?"
He tried to nod, but quickly remembered why moving of any kind was a bad thing. Instead he whispered, "Yes."
Karen stepped over to him and changed his IV bag. "I'm sorry. We're doing all we can to lessen the pain, but you suffered some pretty serious injuries--one broken leg, five broken ribs, some head trauma, and a punctured lung. It will be a while before you're fully recovered."
Spike finally seemed to notice the large, white cast covering his leg. He felt sick.
"You're extremely lucky, you know. It's a miracle you survived the collision."
"And the others?" he wondered.
"They're both doing fine. Miss Summers suffered a broken rib and some minor head injuries, but she was released the next morning. Mr. Finn walked away with only some cuts and bruises."
His breath caught in his throat. Buffy was the one who had hit him? He had no idea what to think of this new revelation.
"--and she's very worried about you."
Spike opened his eyes when he realized the nurse was still speaking to him. "What?" he asked.
"I just said that Miss Summers, the young woman who hit you, is very worried about you. She's stopped by quite a few times to make sure you're doing okay."
He let a small smile grace his lips. "That's good to hear."
Karen went about changing his bandages, making small talk as she moved around the room. Unfortunately, his medicated brain barely registered a word she was saying, and his eyes drifted closed once more.
When he awoke the next day, that familiar presence was beside him again. "Hey," he croaked out.
She started up from the chair upon hearing his voice. But instead of answering him, she made a mad dash to the door.
"Wait," he quickly said, not wanting her to leave again so soon. He noted that it was slightly easier to move now, and he raised his head to look at her. She had paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Please don't go."
Buffy turned to face him, her eyes wide with guilt. "I'm sorry. I really need to get back."
He swallowed, trying not to let her distance get to him. "I've missed you so much," he whispered.
A small frown marred her brow. "Huh?"
"I've missed you, pet. I never thought I'd see you again."
"What are you... ?" She shook her head and shrugged it off as, "Must be the drugs."
Now it was Spike's turn to frown. "What are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about?" she countered. "I've never seen you before in my life."
Spike felt as if a knife had just been stuck in his gut. For some strange reason, he had been thinking all along that Buffy would remember him. Only now did he realize how ridiculous that was. Buffy hadn't even met him yet. She wouldn't meet him for three years.
It felt like a small part of him had just died.
Finally letting himself accept this newfound knowledge, he regarded the confused girl standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you were someone else." It was the truth, after all.
Buffy nodded in understanding and twisted the doorknob. "I really do need to go, though. I'm glad you're doing better."
And then she was gone.
When the door closed shut behind her, Spike gave into the onslaught of tears and cried himself to sleep.
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