Summary: Set directly after the events of Same Time, Same Place. Buffy realizes that she's probably left Spike in the basement for too long and hauls him out. Her attempts to get the First to stop tormenting him don't go quite as planned, however. Then again, when do spells on the Hellmouth ever work right?
Author's Notes: I may be a minority, but I thought the First was about the lamest villain ever. How do you fight something like that? It's impossible. And besides, it's philosophically and logically insupportable that you'd have the First Evil and not a First Good of some kind. I'd give you the logical argument, but that's not the point. The point is that I'm treating the First as the S3 episode Amends treated the First—like some ghost that could be chased away by some fast talk and the light of day. I'm ignoring the rest of S7 canon pretty much. Oh, and the title is taken from a Christina Rossetti poem I thought was appropriate.
Rating: PG-13
"What are heavy? sea-sand and sorrow:/What are brief? today and tomorrow:/What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth:/What are deep? the ocean and truth." ~Christina Rossetti
"I demand an explanation!"
William's voice, growing increasingly panicked, snapped Buffy out of her stupor. Before she could respond, Dawn called down the stairs, "Buffy? Is everything okay?"
"It's fine, Dawnie," she shouted back quickly. "I'll be up in a minute."
William looked as though he was going to start yelling again, but Buffy used her speed to advantage and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Okay, look. I know you're confused, but I promise, there's a really good explanation for this. Just sit tight."
Frustrated blue eyes stared at her, and she could feel his cool skin and lips under her hand. This was the most physical contact they'd had since his return, and Buffy felt a chill run up her spine. Taking her hand away slowly, she waited for him to speak. "Where am I?"
"You're in California ," Buffy replied, casting an anxious glance back towards Willow , who was pushing herself up off the floor. "Wills? You okay?"
"Oh, sure," Willow replied. "As soon as my head stops pounding." The witch looked from the Slayer to the discombobulated vampire and winced. "You know, why don't I make us some tea?" she suggested brightly, escaping up the stairs before Buffy could protest.
Buffy turned back to the vampire, who was frowning. " California ? But isn't that—I don't understand."
She had no clue what to say to make him understand, either. "What's the last thing you remember?"
It was as if all the fight had been taken out of him. All he managed was, "There was a woman in an alley."
It was enough for Buffy. "Look, if I let you go, do you promise not to run off?"
He shook his head. "Who are you? How did I get here?"
"Okay, one question at a time," she replied. "I'm Buffy, and how you got here is a really long story. Now, do you promise not to try anything if I let you go?"
He stared at her, confusion writ large on his expressive face. "I promise," he said finally. "But I don't—"
Buffy interrupted him. "I know this is strange and confusing. I promise I'll explain. We'll just go upstairs, and have some tea, and it'll be fine."
His eyes followed her as she unlocked his chains. "Do you—do you know me?"
"Really well," Buffy replied. "Trust me, William. We know each other really well."
~~~~~
William's hands engulfed the warm mug, seeking comfort in the familiar.
Although, even the ceramic felt strange in his hands.
Nothing looked the least bit familiar; he had never seen any of the women before in his life. The awkward silence that had fallen upon his and Buffy's arrival in the kitchen had just gotten worse. His own clothing felt strange to him, and the clothes that the women were wearing were like nothing he'd ever seen.
There were gadgets on the counter whose purpose he could not determine, and the entire house was well-lit by electricity. William had heard of such things, of course, but he had no idea that it was so wide-spread in America .
Even the material that comprised the kitchen counters was unfamiliar.
Briefly, William wondered if he'd gone crazy. Was this the hallucination of a madman? Perhaps he really was confined in an asylum somewhere, and his fevered brain had simply concocted this elaborate world.
William wondered if he even wanted the answers.
"Okay, somebody say something already," the young woman they'd introduced as Dawn exclaimed.
Buffy frowned. "Dawn—"
The girl turned towards him. "Look, this is 2002, not the 1800's. You're not human, and Willow did a spell that got screwed up. Again."
Willow made a face, but she didn't saying anything to defend herself. It was all true.
Somehow, William didn't find that that explanation clarified matters at all. "I beg your pardon?"
"What year is it?" Buffy asked, shooting her sister a quelling look.
William shook his head. "It's 1880. I—" He looked around him. William might have his head in the clouds much of the time, but he wasn't stupid. There was something very strange going on.
"It's not," Willow said gently. "It's the 21 st century."
He shook his head impatiently. This was all impossible. Perhaps he had gone mad. That seemed the only likely explanation. "No," he said impatiently. "I don't know what kind of game this is, or how you brought me here, but—"
"Show him the bathroom, Buffy," Dawn said impatiently.
Buffy frowned. "The what?"
"The mirror," Willow clarified. "He needs to know. If he doesn't, and he goes outside during the day..."
William had no idea what they were talking about. "I don't know what you've done to me, but you cannot keep me here against my will."
"Actually, I can," Buffy replied, grabbing him by the upper arm. Talking was obviously getting them nowhere. Dawn and Willow were right. Spike was a danger to himself as long as he didn't know the truth, and the proof was as close as the mirror upstairs.
She was amazingly strong, William realized. Buffy wasn't hurting him, but he could tell that with a little more pressure she could easily do him real harm. "Unhand me!" he protested.
"No," she replied grimly. "Trust me, this is for your own good."
He chose not to struggle after that. It would be too embarrassing to be forced against his will by a woman who was stronger than he. After the humiliation of last night—if the party was indeed yesterday—William had no desire to relive that shame.
Feeling a twinge as she pushed him through the doorway, he instinctively looked into the mirror that was directly in front of him—and saw nothing.
William raised a hand, thinking that perhaps it was some trick of the light, but there was nothing there. Nothing except for Buffy, with the space next to her empty, as though he didn't exist.
Did he not exist? Was he nothing after all?
Buffy saw the stricken look on his face, watched as he stumbled backwards towards the wall, clutching at it in an attempt to stay upright. Shame hit her hard. She might have been gentler in her delivery of the news. She could have broken it to him more gradually. Instead, this whole exercise seemed to have hurt him more than he had been before.
Perhaps the choice to do the spell had been Spike's, but this wasn't the outcome he had anticipated.
"I don't understand," William whispered, finally turning his eyes from the mirror to Buffy, who was standing there looking at him with more compassion than he'd seen since waking up in her cellar. "Please..."
This time when she reached out, it was to grab his hand, not his arm. "I know. Let's go sit down."
William was grateful when she didn't let go. He needed to feel real again, and only the touch of her hand in his proved his existence.
"I'm sorry," Buffy said, as they reached the living room again. "I probably could have done that differently."
William shook his head. "I still don't understand. I wasn't—how is it that I do not have a reflection?"
"Spike—" The name slipped out before she could help herself. Buffy sighed. "Your heart isn't beating, William. You're not—you're not human anymore."
It was what the younger girl had said, the one who was even now staring at him with sympathy mixed with impatience. He shook his head again. He was walking, talking—even if he wasn't sure he was making sense. Buffy took his hand and moved it to his chest, to rest over his heart.
It wasn't beating.
His heart lay silent in his chest, and William realized for the first time that although breathing was still a habit, it wasn't necessary. As soon as his attention had been called to it, he began hyperventilating. William felt suffocated—as though everything was pressing down on him. He was dying all over again.
He didn't remember dying the first time.
A glass of water appeared before his face. "Drink this. Slowly," Dawn warned.
William did as he was told more out of habit than anything else. He sipped at the water, trying to calm himself. "I don't understand," he finally managed.
He seemed to be saying that a lot. William was lost.
"You're a vampire," Buffy began quietly, "but you have your soul. We've known each other for years now. There was—something haunting you, and Willow did a spell that was supposed to protect you. Now—"
When Buffy broke off, Willow took up the story. "The spell made the soul primary, instead of giving it equal footing with the demon," she explained. "That's why you don't really remember anything."
Dawn cleared her throat. "But the soul's been there for a while. Spike should have some memories of recent events."
"Spike?" William asked hesitantly.
"Vampire-you," Buffy said impatiently, thinking.
Willow sighed. "The spell went weird at the end," she said. "I honestly don't know why it's working this way now."
There was a long pause. "I still don't think I understand," William finally said.
"Neither does anybody else," Willow said soothingly. "We're all pretty lost right now."
"Which is nothing new," Dawn said wryly. "I guess it's research time, then."
Buffy shook her head. "What about getting Spike back?"
Willow shook her head. "I don't know, but the spell isn't supposed to be permanent. I'd give it a few weeks, maybe a couple months at most."
William slowly realized that they were talking about what was basically his imminent demise. As bewildered as he might be, William wasn't quite ready to not exist. Or something. "Wait! You can't just get rid of me!"
"We're not getting rid of you, we're getting the rest of you back," Buffy snapped. She winced as he flinched at her sharp tone. "Look, William—"
William stood stiffly. "I think I would like to freshen up, if you don't mind."
"I'll take you upstairs, William," Willow said gently. "We still have to find some other clothing for you."
"I'll go see Clem," Buffy announced, needing to get out of the house. "I think he still has some of Spike's stuff."
They all scattered, and Dawn looking around, sighing. "I guess I'm just going to start on the books then," she muttered.
~~~~~
Buffy stalked down the street towards where she knew Clem was staying. Her life was insane. She couldn't believe this. Just as she was starting to get used to Spike being around again, she ends up with William.
William!
He was definitely not Spike that was for sure.
"'I've always been bad,' my ass," Buffy muttered, thinking about his response to her. William had been scared stiff and ready to run. He'd started hyperventilating, for Pete's sake. He was also completely freaked out, and Buffy knew they were going to have to babysit him. Probably for a while. The big question was how much to tell him about their relationship and who she was; for his own sake, he had to know about being a vampire.
Willow might not think this spell was going to last forever, but Buffy wasn't going to count on that assurance. This was the Hellmouth, after all. There was no guarantee that Spike would come back on his own.
And Buffy wanted Spike back.
Correction. Buffy wanted the old Spike back. She wanted the cocky vampire who refused to go away. The guy who chased her all around town, who made her forget how to breathe.
The thing that she would never tell Spike was that she'd dreamed of him over the summer. At first she'd thought it was pretty sick—having erotic dreams about the guy who had tried to rape her. After a while, however, Buffy had found it easier to remember the moments that had led up to her sleeping with him in the first place.
She wasn't the kind of girl to sleep with a man she didn't like, or that she didn't have some kind of feelings for.
By the end of the summer, Buffy was having as many dreams about sitting on her porch with him, just talking, as she was about having sex with him. It was the reason she hadn't staked Spike immediately upon seeing him.
Or even after.
Buffy bit back a sigh, and rapped softly on Clem's door. The gentle demon had a tendency to get a little wigged when she showed up unannounced. "Buffy!" he exclaimed. "How's it going?"
A reluctant smile spread across her face. It was hard to be irritated around Clem. "It's—okay, Clem. Not great, but okay. Do you still have Spike's stuff from the crypt?"
"Sure!" he replied, opening the door wider so that she could enter. "Sophie and I were just watching some reruns of Knight Rider . If you want to join us—"
"No thanks," Buffy replied.
He peered at her with some concern. "Is everything okay? Is Spike—"
"Spike's not quite himself," Buffy said slowly. "There was a spell..."
Clem managed to look slightly disapproving. "That magic will get you into trouble."
"Tell me about it," Buffy muttered.
He patted her on the shoulder, careful of his claws. "If you need some help with him, you just let me know," Clem offered. "Spike's my pal."
"I know he is, Clem," Buffy said gently. "I'll definitely give you a call if I can use your help."
~~~~~
William splashed water on his face, trying not to glance into the mirror. He had no desire to see the empty space where he ought to be.
Clutching at the counter with wet hands, he watched the water dribble down the drain. Everything was strange; nothing made sense.
He reached for the towel blindly, blotting his face dry and turning his back to the mirror to wipe his hands off. There was a knock on the door. "William? How are you doing in there?"
William opened the door to find Willow standing there. "Quite well, thank you," he said politely.
"Are you sure?" Willow said anxiously. "Are you hungry? Because I could get you something to eat."
He hesitated. "Don't vampires drink—blood?" he asked, gulping heavily.
Willow winced. "Oh, well, yeah, but you can eat other things too!" She tried to sound cheerful for his sake. "You could, you know, drink your blood really fast, and then have something else to wash it down."
William wasn't sure what he thought of that, but it didn't seem like he had any other options at this point. "That could work. What might you have to eat?"
The redhead frowned. She wasn't much of a cook, and there was no way that William was ready for Dawn's brand of food. "We could make hot chocolate," she suggested, dimly recalling someone saying something about Spike liking it.
He thought about it for a moment. "Thank you, that would be nice."
"I really am sorry about this," Willow said. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."
William wanted to know what way it was supposed to go. He wanted to know how it was that he and Buffy were acquainted, and what their relationship was precisely.
He wanted to know everything and nothing.
Even though William wanted to ask a dozen questions, he was a gentleman, and gentlemen didn't pry. "I understand," he replied. Even though he didn't.
Willow caught the expression in his eyes. "Let's go find something to eat," she said gently, tucking her hand through his arm.
William appreciated her sweetness. "That would be lovely."
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