By Heather Martin

*You can lie to others. You can lie to yourself. But you can’t lie to your dreams .*

Spoilers- Grave

Disclaimer- Joss owns all the characters from Buffy TVS

Distribution- Sure, just ask

Summary- Anyone know what dissociative fugue amnesia is? Well, Spike develops such a case after his sudden shiny soul, along with the unexpected return of humanity. He just can’t cope, so he pretends to be somebody he‘s not. As for Buffy, she lies to herself that Spike’s absence hasn’t effected her. But at night, she cannot keep him out of her dreams. What will happen to these two lost souls? Will they ever find their way? And will it be together?

This occurs after Grave. The time between episodes are unclear. Pretend that everything after ‘As You Were ‘only spanned a couple weeks. If you think about it, that makes sense. Seeing Red, Villians, 2 to Go, and Grave all happened in a couple days.

Chapter 1

He might have been able to cope if they hadn’t hit him in such a rush. If the killings came at him one at a time, he would have been able to gather himself for the next one. Of course they didn’t. He stumbled, not seeing where he was going, but rather each and every single victim he had drained. The memories were vivid, as if they had occurred only yesterday. Not even realizing it, he fell to his knees. Clutching his head, he shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the visions. His heart thumped violently in his chest, his breath erratic. And then he felt the warmth, enveloping his sensitive skin. His eyes fluttered open, and he craned his neck. There, blinding him from above was the sun. It was all too much. Too much to handle.

Spike fainted.

*-|- *-|-*

During her waking hours, Spike was absent from Buffy’s life. She set Dawn off to school, went to work, joined her friends at the magic shop, and went patrolling. Never in her routine did the bleached vampire cross her mind. Her dreams were a different story.

He came every night tormenting her with all that they had done. All that he had made her feel. All that she had thrown away.

She would awaken, tangled in sheets, panting for breath, soaked with sweat, and hot with need. It was killing her. She hated to go to bed. She’d delay sleep, but it was always inevitable.

The alarm clock went off beside her bed, bringing Buffy away from Spike’s pounding within her. She surveyed the sunny room, a little disoriented. A groan escaped her. Then she shut off the alarm. She got up and took a nice long cold shower. Afterward, she felt much better. All images of naked Spike had been erased from her head.

Buffy was staring into the mirror when there was a loud knock at the door. “Buffy, are you ready for today?”

The slayer blinked, trying to focus. “Huh? Ready for what?” She turned away from her reflection. “Dawn, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for school?”

Behind the door, Dawn replied, “Duh, it’s Saturday. Where’ve you been?”

Boinking Spike in my dreams, Buffy thought. Then she caught herself and pushed the notion aside. He wasn’t part of her life anymore.

Buffy moved to open the door. She held the wet towel around her slim body. Her gaze met her impatient sister. “Sorry, Dawnie, just woke up. Still a little groggy. Of course it’s the weekend. So, what was that about being ready for something?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Willow’s coming back today. You must really be out of if. We have to pick her up at the airport, remember?”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “What time is it?”

“Relax, we’ve got hours. I’m just nervous. Are you nervous?”

“Of course. I uh, don’t know how I’m supposed to act around her anymore. I mean, I hope she’s the Willow we remember and not someone else.” Buffy came fully out into the hall.

“Do you think two months of rehabilitation is all she needs? Is she really ready to come home? What if it isn’t and she goes psycho again?”

Buffy sighed. “I dunno. But Giles and the coven seem to think so.”

“Buffy, I’m scared of her,” Dawn confessed. “Do I have to come with you to pick her up?”

“Yes. She’ll be hurt if you don’t.”

The teen crossed her arms. “I don’t care. She deserves to be hurt.”

“Dawnie . . . She‘s really sorry. I talked to her on the phone.”

“You’re really forgiving, aren’t you, Buffy? If Spike came back all sorry would you forgive him?”

Buffy’s eyes became stern. “He has nothing to do with this. He’s gone and that is all there is to it.”

“But he might come back,” Dawn protested.

“He’s been gone for almost three months. He’s not coming back.”

“Three months isn’t very long. You were dead for a whole summer. You came back. He could too.”

Buffy pushed herself past Dawn. She made her way toward her room. “I have to get dressed.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I just miss him. I’m awfully pissed off at him, but I miss him.”

Buffy usually would have scolded her for using an inappropriate word. Instead, she whispered, “Why don’t you go start some breakfast?” Then she went to throw on some clothes.

*-|- *-|-*

*-|- *-|-*

*-|- *-|-*

He woke up to a blazing landscape. He recognized the sensation of thirst and hunger. Looking around, he saw that he was next to a cave. The ground was flat and barren. The sand beneath his feet was so hot that it could have been on fire. He glanced down to see that he had no shoes on. His attire was completely black, absorbing the beaming rays.

There were two choices. Either make a go for it and see if civilization was ahead. Or take shade in the cave until nightfall. He took the second one.

Collapsing in the cool cavern, he scanned his mind. He found a void. Not exactly nothing, but a cloudy space. Like there were things there, but he didn’t have access to them. Ok, don’t panic. Let’s start with where you are. Um, in a cave with desert outside. Not very helpful. Why am I here? No clue. He switched to who he was. Another blank. Checking his pockets, he found no ID either. So, he was a nameless person in the middle of nowhere for no reason. Swell.

*-|- *-|-*

Dawn fixed blueberry pancakes for them. The younger Summers had been doing most of the cooking lately out of Willow’s absence. Buffy would have, but she lacked in the food preparation area, aside from greasy burgers at the DMP.

A little while later, Dawn found Buffy hovering over the toilet. “Was it really that bad? I thought they were quite good. I didn’t burn any that much.”

Buffy shifted her head. Her eyes were glassy and she seemed ashen. “I’m fine. Just a little poison from the Doublemeat, I think. Remind me never to eat there again.”

“Ok. Are you going to be all right to go to the airport? We could always call Xander. I’m sure he could skip work for it.”

The slayer shook her head. She got to her feet, a tad bit unsteady. She flushed the toilet. “No, no. I’ll just lie down for a bit. Be good as new in an hour.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Buffy washed her face and then her teeth. Ewww, puke taste! Definite bad.

She entered her room, plopping down on the bed. She snuggled in the pillow, bringing Mr. Gordo to her chest. She fought to control the nausea that still gnawed at her stomach. What she hadn’t told Dawn was that she had been getting these cramps quite often lately. The good thing was that after a short rest they went away. She was becoming discouraged, though. If they kept up, she would have to go to the doctor. Something she only did as a last resort.

Buffy must have dozed off. She heard pounding on her door. “Buffy, time to go pick up Willow,” Dawn announced.

Buffy instantly sat up. She felt way better than before. “All right, I’m coming.”

She brushed her hair, putting it up in a twist. She slipped on some shoes and a jacket. Ready to go out. Not ready to meet Willow.

_________________________________________________

Chapter 2

When dusk set in, he started to walk. It wasn’t long before he reached a village. The people there stopped and stared as he went by. Some looked frightened, and others amazed.

A dark-skinned man stood outside a hut. He pointed straight at him and went off, talking in an unknown language.

“Uh, sorry mate, don’t speak . . . whatever it is you are speaking,” he told the man.

That only caused the man to talk more frantically. He didn’t know any of it, but he thought he caught the word ‘vampire’. He shook his head and pushed it aside.

“English. Anyone here speak English?” Spike scanned the villagers. Some of them jerked their head away when his eyes shifted their way.

One of the people stepped forward. He was better dressed than most of them, actually having shoes on and all. “I am the only one here who understands you,” he informed.

“Oh, great, a linguist. Look, I’m rather confused here.” He pointed behind him, toward where he came from. “I woke up over by this cave and . . .”

The man’s eyes widened. “You are the vampire they have been boasting about. You have survived the trials.” His voice was full of wonder.

Spike snorted. “I’m no sodding vampire. My stomachs been growling for some solids for hours. All I want is a telephone. Got one of those?”

“We do not have such technology. I can drive you to town,” the man offered.

“Yeah, that would be bloody brilliant.” It hit him at that moment that he did know something about himself. He’s been talking for a while now, using British terms. He was from the good ol’ mother country. He was overcome by relief. At least he found out something.

*-|-*-|-*

Buffy inspecting the crowd, trying to spot a familiar red-head. She struggled not to think, because that led to uneasiness. Beside her, Dawn was more concerned about her chipped fingernail paint.

All of a sudden the slayer recognized her long-time friend approaching. She took Dawn’s hand and pulled her in the direction of Willow. “Will!” she called, waving.

A giant grin spread over Willow’s face. She came forward, giving Buffy a warm hug. Another woman with long black hair followed behind the witch, but at a slower pace.

“I missed you so much, Buffy!” Willow exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Buffy answered.

They pulled away. The raven-haired woman smiled at them. Willow gestured to her. “Uh, Buffy, this is Cleo.”

“Oh, uh, hi.” Buffy reached out a hand.

Cleo shook the offered hand. She studied the slayer with curiosity. “Hello, you must be the slayer. I am pleased to meet you.”

“On the phone you didn’t mention anyone coming with you,” Buffy said to Willow.

“Sorry, I must have forgot. Cleo is one of the coven members. She‘s going to help me ease back into life. And make sure I’m ready to.” The last part was said more softly and with embarrassment.

Buffy got it. Willow was under probation.

“I hope it is not a problem, me accompanying your friend,” Cleo commented.

“No, not at all. The couch folds out into a bed if . . .” Buffy started to say.

Cleo shook her head, holding up a hand. “No need. It has all been arranged.”

“O-Oh,” Buffy replied.

Willow finally noticed Dawn. The teen had been standing there silent, hoping to be overlooked. “Dawnie, hey.”

A glare was sent from Dawn. “Hi,” she said coldly.

Willow’s eyes fell to the floor.

“Let’s go,” Buffy suggested.

“Yeah,” Willow agreed.

*-|-*-|-*

The man drove Spike toward town. He owned a beat up, rusted, truck that barely ran.

They were going down the road when Spike abruptly yelled, “Stop!”

The man cursed, pushing on the pedal. The vehicle came to a halt.

Spike jumped out, racing toward the object that had grabbed his attention. On the side of the road was a parked motorcycle. Draped over the handlebar was a leatherjacket. He fished into the pocket and then revealed two keys. One was on a key chain that had the number 11 on it. He guessed the other went in the ignition of the motorcycle.

(AN- the jacket is a new one that he stole or something)

“Mate, is there a motel round here?”

“Yeah, in the town I’m taken you to,” the guy answered.

“Ok then. Mind if I put my wheels in the back of your pick-up?” Somehow he knew for a fact that the motorcycle was his.

“Go ahead.”

Spike managed to heave the cycle into the back of the truck. The man drove him to the motel. He went to room 11 and unlocked the door.

The place was a dump. Basically there was a mattress and a nightstand. He searched the room for belongings. He found a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a passport, and a wallet. Inside the wallet was a drivers license with his picture on it.

(AN- I know you have to have ID to get a passport and driver‘s license. Let’s pretend Spike got a fake birth certificate and stuff, ok?)

William Shayne. Sex, male. Duh. Height, 5’ 10“. Age 28. 148 lbs. Hair, blond. Eyes, blue.

None of the information on the card meant anything to him. They didn’t spark some kind of recollection of his past. He had a name, age, height, and weight, though. And to his surprise, an address. Sunnydale, California. Sunnydale? Where the bloody hell was that?

He went in search of the motel office. He found it with no trouble. Inside, the carpet was coming up and the walls were chipping. Geez, he couldn’t wait to get to some developed country. This place was the pits.

A man was behind the counter. He looked over at Spike expectantly.

“Got a map?” he asked. “Uh . . . mappo? Pictures on paper to show where things are.” He did a few gestures, as if it would help the person to understand what he was searching for.

The man shook his head. “I speak English. Enough to know what a map is.”

“Oh, good.”

A wrinkly map was handed over to the blonde. He examined it. “This is Africa. Got any American maps, mate?”

He was given another map, in better shape than the first. Must not have been used as much. He used a finger to scan his way over to the west. California. As much as he tried he could not spot a town called Sunnydale.

Spike raised his head. “Ever heard of Sunnydale?”

Confusion filled the motel owner. He stared, blankly.

Spike snickered. “Course not.” He gave the map back to the man.

He went back to his room. He gathered his few belongings and headed out the door. Time to leave this hell hole. He’d go to England. He must have been born there, and maybe he‘d find some family or friends.

_____________________________________________

Chapter 3

Buffy and Dawn cooked supper. Well, Buffy boiled the water. Dawn actually cooked the spaghetti and meatballs. She made her mother’s sauce, garlic bread, and brownies for dessert.

They sat in the dining room, very interested in their food. It was uncomfortable and no one knew what to say.

It was Cleo who decided to break the silence. “This is really good,” she commented on the food. Her eyes fixed on Buffy. “Did you do it?”

Buffy turned her fork, wrapping pasta around it. “Um . . . I boiled the water,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Cleo said.

“I do most of the cooking around here,” Dawn informed. “I’m taking home-ec. class.”

“Sure came a long way from the peanut butter tortillas,” Willow praised.

“Well, somebody had to do the cooking without you and . . . “

Everybody knew what name Dawn had been about to say. The red-head lowered her gaze, finding the plate of spaghetti and garlic bread very captivating.

Buffy put down her fork. No, not again, she thought. Her stomach was not accepting food again.

“Buffy, you ok?” her sister inquired. Her expression showed concern.

The slayer pushed her plate away. “Yeah. Just the stomach ache returning from this morning. I think I’ll go upstairs. Be good as new by morning.”

She got up from the table and started out of the room. If she made it to her room in time she was sure that the pain would subside. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to make a trip to the bathroom.

Half way up the stairs, she stopped, holding onto the banister. Ugh, it hurt. Come on, Buffy, you’re the slayer, this is nothing compared to being attacked by a demon. She continued her ascend, making it to the top.

“Buffy?”

Buffy turned around. To her surprise she found Cleo behind her. “Hey.”

The witch came up next to Buffy. “You sure you will be okay? I know a healing spell I could . . .”

The slayer shook her head. “No thanks. I just ate something I shouldn’t have. I’ll be back to my 120% tomorrow.”

Cleo’s gaze met Buffy’s challengely. “Uh , Buffy . . . Are you sure that you only have a bit of food poisoning? I sensed something a little off when I first met you. It hasn‘t gone away. In fact, it‘s even more intense.”

Buffy’s green eyes widened in fright. Images of her mother being taken into surgery filled her brain. She didn’t have some disease did she? She had just gotten to the point of wanting to live again. Fear traveled through her, making it hard to breath.

“Do you have any idea what is wrong with me?” Buffy asked in a whisper.

Cleo touched Buffy’s arm in a friendly manner. Her eyes were soft and caring. “I have my suspicions. And I think you do as well.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me, Buffy, do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?” Buffy took a step back, puzzled.

“All I’m saying is . . .” Cleo took in a deep breath. “Buffy you know what I’m saying. In your subconscious you know what is going on with yourself. You are only having trouble accepting it.”

“Yeah, I do know what is wrong with me. I ate this gross burger the other day at work. Musta not agreed with me.”

“That’s not it. I didn’t want to be this blunt about it, but- Buffy, when was the last time you had your period?”

At first all Buffy could do was stand there. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“I know you don’t want to believe it,” Cleo went on. “But, you see, I’m good at looking inside people, knowing how they feel and their body’s reaction to things. I don’t think I’m wrong about this.”

Animation returned to Buffy. “Well, you are! I can’t possibly . . . The last person I was with . . . He can’t have children. And that was months ago.”

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Cleo admitted. “I just don’t think I am. All I know is something is up. Something that doesn’t revolve around food poisoning. You should see a doctor.”

“Yeah, I will.” Buffy’s voice showed no emotion.

She left, going into her room and shutting the door. It was dark accept from the slight moonlight that streamed in through the open blinds. In a trance, she stripped her clothes and then slipped on a blue nightgown. She pulled back the sheets on her bed and crawled underneath them. The room would have been generally warm to the majority of people, but it felt cold to her. She tugged the covers up to her chin. She lay there, not closing her eyes. A long while passed where she didn’t even move. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, blankly.

All of a sudden, she caved in. Her strength disintegrated, leaving her sobbing in helplessness. She had never seemed so alone before. And she had experienced the feeling quite often. But never as strong as this.

She curled up in a fetal position. She had the urge to cry out to someone. Her mother. She wanted her mother.

I’m so messed up, Buffy thought. What have I done to myself?

*+ *+* +*

*+ *+* +*

Buffy awoke, springing upward. Her hand immediately went to her stomach. “Oh god!” she said in horror.

_________________________________________

Chapter 4

Spike jerked awake. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Images of ‘her’ filled his brain. The dreams started about three days ago. Not too long, but long enough to frustrate him. She haunted him in his waking hours as well. Her luscious body would pop in his thoughts during the oddest of times. He felt connected to her. He knew her inside and out, even if he recalled never meeting her in reality. He wondered if his imagination had simply made her up.

He got out of bed, grabbing his shirt. He pulled the black cloth over his head. He needed new clothes. Since his awakening, the outfit he had on now was the only thing he had worn. If he kept this up people would start holding their noses as he walked by.

Today was the day where things had to change. The money that accompanied the wallet was gone, so the hotel room he was currently occupying wouldn’t be available tomorrow. A night on the streets of England didn’t appeal to him. Either he would have to find a job by the end of the day or . . . But who would grant a guy who only knew his name, height, and weight work?

Trying to calm himself, he walked over to the window. He opened the curtains, letting in the streaming light. As always, it blinded him, making him squint. It was getting better, however. His vision seemed to gradually be becoming used to the sun’s bright rays. He was beginning to believe that he actually lived in that cave he woke up by. Wherever he had been it must have been dark. His skin was another indication of that. With his white hair along with pale complexion, he would have thought himself an albino if it wasn’t for his blue eyes. A chuckle escaped his lips at that.

He went into the bathroom to start his morning ritual. He brushed his teeth and then took a shower. Afterward he stared into the mirror. He leaned over the sink. “Hello, William Shayne,” he told the reflection.

A frown marred his face. The person he saw didn’t seem to be him. The name sounded wrong as well. And no matter how many times he gazed into the mirror and said his name outloud, his feelings never changed.

* + * + * + *

A tapping came on Buffy’s door. The slayer rolled over in bed with a moan. “What?” she snapped.

“Willow just left,” Dawn told her from the hall. “All her stuff is gone now, so . . . um Mom’s room is open. What are we gonna do with it?”

Not now, Buffy thought. “We’ll figure it out later, Dawn.” Silently, she knew exactly what they would do with it.

“Ok.” There was a pause. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No,” Buffy said.

“Almost time for you to go to work.”

“Not going.”

“But . . . Are you not feeling well still?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, rest up then. I‘ll be at Janice‘s.”

Buffy didn’t want to move. Ever. In fact, she wanted to fade away from existence. Numbness had taken over her body. It was like right after she had come back from heaven. She simply couldn’t feel, or rather, wouldn’t let herself.

The day before she had went to the doctor. Cleo had been right, she was pregnant. Almost four months now. With Spike’s baby. No one knew yet, except herself and the witch.

What she was going to do she had no idea. She could barely support herself and Dawn, let alone a child. Each month it took all the money they had to make the house payment and groceries. And Social Services, oh God! They’d take her sister away for sure. A 21 year-old woman who worked at a fast-food joint with a baby out of wedlock. Sure, they’d love that. They’d say, “We adore your parenting skills. Dawn is in safe hands.” Yeah right!

The numbness started to evaporate, being replaced by anger. Spike had to run off, didn’t he? Big hypocrite. Always telling her not to run when things got tough. But when it gets too hard for him . . . Now her baby would have to grow up without a father. Or maybe not. There were . . . options.

Tears broke. She put her face in her hands. What was she thinking? She couldn’t possibly . . . That wasn’t an option. She had always thought that slayers couldn’t have children. This was a miracle. A huge miracle if you tossed in the fact that Spike was a vampire. You don’t throw miracles away.

Buffy dried her eyes. Realization hit then. This was her fault. Not Spike’s. She had been the one demanding comfort. She was the one to drive him away. The bathroom incident would have never happened if she would have stopped the insane affair earlier.

Yes, this was Buffy’s fault. This was her fault . . . And she would make it right.

* + * + * + *

Buffy pounded on Cleo and Willow’s apartment door. Buffy hadn’t seen inside it yet, but she guessed it was pretty nice. It was in the same building Xander lived in. Willow had probably planned it that way.

The door opened to display Cleo. She had her hair up in a pony-tail and held a spatula. Buffy pointed to the utensil. “Busy?”

“I was fixing myself a grilled cheese sandwich,” Cleo answered. “If you are looking for Willow she isn’t here. She’s out with her friend, Xander.”

“Actually, I came to see you,” Buffy told her.

A surprised expression came over Cleo’s face. “Me? What for?”

Buffy took a deep breath. “I need a spell.”

“Buffy I don’t . . .”

Then Cleo saw the desperation in the slayer’s eyes. The sadness.

“You were right, Cleo. I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this alone. I can’t. Please, please will you do this spell for me? Normally I don’t like magic, but this time it is my only choice,” Buffy pleaded.

Cleo let the girl in. “I’ll do it.”

Buffy nodded. “Thank you.”

“If I may ask, what is it for? I’m not doing anything to . . . harm the baby or make it so it never happened.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “No! I wouldn’t do that! It already crossed my mind and I pushed it away. I couldn’t.”

“Good.”

“I-I . . .” Buffy swallowed. “I need to either find someone or bring them to me.”

Understanding filled the witch. “I see. I can do that.” She smiled. “Right after I eat my sandwich.”

Buffy laughed through her tears.

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 5

Cleo scanned through a magic book. “A summoning spell would be the best, but there is no guarantee as to how long it would take.”

On the other end of the blue couch sat Buffy. She leaned over to glance at the page. “How long could it take?”

“That’s the thing, it varies. He could rush right over . . . or not. Sometimes the person will resist the urge to leave where they are.”

The irony of the situation was not lost to Buffy. She had spent what seemed like forever trying to kick Spike out of town. He was always there, a nuisance that seemed to never go away. And here she was attempting to force him back.

“I really can’t wait five months,” the slayer said. “Maybe we should do a location spell.”

She didn’t have the money for a trip, but she was sure it would pay off in the long run. It was ridiculous, but she felt that everything would be okay when Spike came home. All the pieces that had scattered around, creating a mess, would fall back into place. ‘I’m part of you.’ Could it be true? Could Spike complete her in some way?

Cleo placed the book down on the coffee table. “We’ll try the location spell. I’m gonna need a world map.”

“Willow’s bound to have one. She has all the brainy stuff,” Buffy said.

They went over to the accumulation of Willow’s unpacked boxes. Thankfully, she had labeled each one. One was marked ‘School supplies.’ Inside were texts, an atlas was among them.

It didn’t take long to set up. Apparently the process was quite simple. It required an item that the person being found had touched. Buffy ran home and came back with Spike’s leather duster. She placed it in the circle of white candles.

“That’ll do fine, “ Cleo commented.

“It’s not going to ruin it, is it? I mean, it won’t go poof or anything?” Buffy had actually grown attached to the worn coat. She’d take it out when the dreams became too much to handle.

Cleo laughed. “No, it’ll just get a scent of lavender from the incense.”

She knew it was stupid, but Buffy wished she had chosen something else. Like his Kiss the Librarian mug. Making his coat smell like flowers was wrong. Oh well, this spell would work and then he could come back to replenish its fragrance of smoke and alcohol.

Cleo stood in the circle and began the spell. Buffy stood back as she called the elements to come forth. The lit incense spread through the room and hit Buffy’s nostrils. She watched in fascination as the raven-haired beauty chanted some unknown tongue. She had no idea what was being said, but she was positive that Cleo pronounced it just right. She could have sworn that she could picture the magic flowing through the witch.

Cleo took a crystal pendulum suspended on a silver chain and placed it over the open atlas. It swayed back and forth at first, then started to gather speed, going round and round in a circle. It went faster and faster and Buffy was sure that it would fly out of Cleo’s hand any second. Instead, however, it abruptly stopped.

Glancing up, Cleo’s gaze fixed on Buffy. “He’s in England. London to be exact.”

*+ *+* +*

He knew he shouldn’t be there. He only had ten bucks left and he should be saving it for food. But this was Spike afterall, even if he was human now with a blank memory; and when things got brutal he banished it with booze.

“Bourbon,” he ordered.

The bartender was a short little man with glasses. Not the kind of person you usually would see serving drinks in a pub. If you would place him it would either be as a teacher or watcher. Not that Spike remembered what a watcher was, but anyways . . . He poured the drink into a shot glass. He pushed it toward Spike. The ex-vamp gulped it down quickly.

Spike motioned for another drink and the bartender complied. “Rough day?”

A snort came from Spike. “A whole bloody week,” he replied.

“Ah, I see.”

Spike swallowed down the burning substance. “Fresh out of dough, got amnesia or somethin of that sort, and I’ve been going out of my mind with these dreams of some chit. Sorta became an obsession.”

“Wow, and I thought the fight me and the Mrs. had last night was bad.” He poured another glass full of alcohol. “Here, this one’s on me.”

Spike took it, gratefully. “Thanks, mate.”

The man studied him. “You say you’re broke?”

He nodded. “Down to my last bill.”

“You know, I could use some help here. Want a job?”

A smile came to Spike’s lips. “Bloody wonderful, thanks.”

“Okay, you can start tomorrow.”

*+ *+* +*

Buffy blinked. “London. As in Giles London?”

“There is only one London that I know of, Buffy,” Cleo said.

The slayer plopped down on the couch. “What is he doing in London!?” She had suddenly become mad. It didn’t make any sense. He had to be somewhere, and England was a perfectly valid place to be. She had known that he was not around before and accepted it, so why all of a sudden couldn’t she now?

“Um, Buffy, would you rather he be in Iraq?”

She shook her head. “No. But why couldn’t he have stayed in the US? He’s in another time zone for crying out loud.” She sighed, getting back up again. “Guess I’m off to Great Britain.”

Cleo grabbed her arm. “Buffy . . .?”

“Yeah?”

An expression of worry had spread over Cleo’s features. “I think I . . . felt something while I was doing the spell.”

Confusion came over Buffy. “Felt something? What kind of something?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it was bad. Negative energy.”

“Great. Is it the apocalypse kind of negative energy?”

“No, I don’t think it is that drastic. It is more centered around Spike.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “On Spike? Don’t tell me he got the chip out and is back to his demony ways? I so don’t want to have to stake him.” Truth was, she didn’t think she could if it came to that. Not when he was the father of her unborn baby. She couldn’t face her daughter or son asking about daddy and remembering how she had turned him to dust.

“It’s not like that. It isn’t ‘him’, but something ‘around’ him.”

“Huh!?”

“I think something is after him. An evil not-good something,” Cleo said plainly.

Okay, not of the good. But at least Buffy wouldn’t have to kill him. She’d just be killing something else. A lot bigger. And scarier. While pregnant. Gee, being the slayer sure sucked about 99% of the time.

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