All characters belong to Joss Whedon, The WB Network, and 20th Century Fox. I am just a fan.

She couldn't feel her legs. She had no legs.

Oh, God... I'm legless! How the hell am I supposed to slay??

Buffy lay in the cemetery, sprawled out on the dampened earth. Her mind was foggy and she couldn't remember what had happened or how she got there. She attempted to roll over and prop herself up, dragging her legs along with the rest of her weak and confused body. Just as managed to roll herself onto her stomach, she felt tiny droplets of water begin to peirce her skin. It was raining. Buffy had never felt so helpless in her life. Soon the icy water from above, mixed with the warm tears protruding from her eyes. She willed them back, but they refused to listen. Instead they slid down her soiled cheeks and found the fresh turned earth beneath her. She finally gave up trying to stand and rested her head down. The side of her face sunk into the mud, but she didn't care. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare called her life.

* * * * *

"Would you mind taking over patrol for us tonight? Callie's got the flu or something. Anya and I wanna stay with her to make sure she doesn't get any worse."

Spike studied the young man at his doorstep. He pulled a cigarette out of the back pocket of his jeans and lit it, blowing smoke into Xander's face.

"Yeah, I 'spose," he said, casually.

Xander winced, as the smoke made its way up his nostrils.

"Thanks," he choked out.

Spike nodded his head and looked up at the sky.

"Looks like rain."

Xander didn't bother to answer him and instead took one last glance at the vampire, before making his way back down the steps. "I'll, uh, see you around," he called out, and headed towards his car.

Spike continued to analyze the dark sky. Black clouds covered the moon and he could hear the faintest sound of thunder far off in the distance. The rev of an engine starting, brought Spike's mind back to present time. He looked over the dead bushes and watched as Xander sped down his street and into the night.

Spike sighed and stomped out his cigarette with the heal of his black boot. He snatched his leather duster from off the couch and proceeded to walk towards the direction of the cemetery, slamming the door behind him.

* * * * *

The rain came, just as he suspected. He made his way through the dank cemetery, trying to see through the drizzle and fog. And before he knew it, the drizzle turned into steady rainfall, and then into a downpour. He was almost about ready to call it quits, when he spotted a large, horned demon struggling with a young girl. He immediately rushed over to the scene of the action and charged at the unsuspecting monster. He pummelled the creature to the ground and chopped off it's head with his knife in one fast and fluid motion. Just as he was about to turn around and help the girl up, he heard her speak.

"Thanks, Spike."

That voice. He hadn't heard that voice in over five years. He had almost forgotten what it sounded like. Spike swallowed hard and slowly turned around. He averted his gaze downward and almost fell over when he saw who he was looking at.

"It can't be," he whispered.

He took a step backward, stumbling over a headstone. He quickly regained his balance, but his eyes never left the Slayer. His Slayer. There she was, lying on the ground, looking up at him as though nothing had ever happened.

"What?" she asked.

He had worked so hard at getting over her. He no longer wept for her loss or felt the guilt of not being able to save her. She was nothing but a distant memory tucked away in the back of his head. The heart that she had made so alive, returned to its cold and hard state. Seeing her before him once again, opened up a closed wound that had no business being re-opened. All of his past feelings resurfaced and for a moment all he wanted to do was grab her and hold her, never letting her go. But, he couldn't do that. That was no longer who he was.

"Spike, what is it?" she repeated.

He blinked twice before answering, making sure she wasn't just a vision his imagination had conjured up. He was about to open his mouth to speak, when he realized he had no words. What are you supposed to say to a ghost?

Buffy let out a frustrated sigh at the vampire's lack of speech. She tried once again to stand up, but flinched as a sudden wave of pain coursed through her body. She looked at her arm and for the first time, noticed a long bloody gash running down the length of it.

She was lying there paralyzed and bleeding in the middle of a storm with a mute vampire. Her life was most definitely a twisted one.

Spike watched from a few feet away from her, as she struggled to stand. He realized that the demon had sliced up her arm, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to help her. He was just as paralyzed as she.

Help her, you bloody sod!

Finally, Spike brushed his shock, uncertainty, and feelings aside and approached the helpless girl. He leaned over and scooped her up in his arms.

"Spike, put me down," she commanded. She may be paralyzed from the waste down, but she was certainly capable of returning to her house on her own.

She struggled once more and finally had the strength to push herself from his grasp. He let her go and she crashed to the ground in a heap.

Work legs, work! she pleaded.

Useless. Her legs were useless.

Spike, who still had not said a word, watched her as her pride overpowered her pain and she continued to try and work her legs. Same old Slayer.

"Well, then, c'mon," he finally spoke.

Tears began to form in Buffy's eyes when she realized just how serious her predicament actually was. There was no way she could make it back by herself.

Spike began to walk away.

"Wait," she said, her voice barely audible.

He stopped and turned around. She was drenched, shivering, and wounded. He couldn't just leave her there. He let out an unneeded breath and stormed back over to her, picking her up once again, this time more roughly.

Buffy hesitantly held her arms around his neck and closed her eyes.

"Why," she began. "Why were you so surprised to see me?" she whispered into his ear.

He ignored the familiar sensation he got everytime she was near him, and stopped to answer her question.

"You're dead," he simply told her and resumed walking, as if that had answered her question. Inevitably, it only left her with more.

What was he talking about? What did he mean she was dead? Her bottom lip began to tremble. She wasn't a vampire, was she?

"What do you mean, I'm..." She couldn't bring herself to say the word.

Spike sighed and stopped once more. He set her down and leaned her against a tree.

"You're dead, Buffy. You died. Five years ago."

He noticed the confliction on her face. She didn't remember? He was hoping she could explain all this to him.

"You don't remember, do you."

She slowly shook her head 'no', as she propped herself up against the wet tree. Suddenly, the rain came down harder. Spike motioned to pick her up again, but she held out her arm to stop him.

"Tell me. I want to know now," she told him, loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain.

She was breathing heavily, and it took all of Spike's willpower not to focus on the way her white shirt clung to her curves as her chest heaved with every breath.

"I told you --"

"Tell me everything. Now."

The fear that was in her eyes was replaced with anger and determination. He nodded and stepped closer to so she could hear him.

"Five years ago, Glory --"

"Glory, the god."

He looked at her skeptically.

"Right."

She nodded her head.

"Go on."

"Anyway, she was after the Nibblet..."

Spike noticed the look of rememberence on her face, as he tried to tell the story.

"You know all this?" he asked her.

"I - I remember some of it. Glory was looking for The Key, aka Dawn. We realized that Dawn was needed to open the portal between demensions and the only way to stop it was with Dawnie's blood."

Buffy's eyes grew wide. Spike suspected she remembered.

"Oh, my God... I killed Dawn, didn't I!"

He sighed in frustration.

"No, that's the thing. You killed yourself to save her. And to save the world."

Spike noticed relief, shock, fear, and uncertainty shining out through her eyes.

"But then... how, why..."

"I was sorta hopin' you could tell me."

"I'm still dead, aren't I." It was more of a statement, rather than a question.

Spike, not knowing the answer, didn't say anything.

How was that possible? How could she be dead, but... alive at the same time? Oh no, she was a vampire! Nausea washed over her and she could feel her legs begin to buckle. Hey, she could feel her legs!

With that last thought passing through her mind, she crumpled to the ground, but not before she felt the strong arms reach out to catch her.

* * * * *

Buffy awoke in a bed to the sound of several familiar voices echoing in her head. She had passed out... how embarrassing was that? Her eyelids fluttered, as she adjusted her eyes to the sudden array of artificial light. She could still hear the storm blaring outside, but she was no longer cold and wet. Just confused... and paralyzed.

Wait.

She looked down at her naked toes and wiggled them. They moved! It was miracle.

No longer helpless, Buffy pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked around at her surroundings. She didn't recognize anything. She was in a room, in a house and that's all she knew. She continued to sit up, just as a black-clad person emerged from the doorway.

"Where'd ya think you're goin'?"

Spike.

"Where am I?" she asked him.

"My place. The gang's out there. They're pretty shaken up."

"You're place? But, I thought --"

'Moved' was all he said, before he left the room. She collapsed back down on the bed and took a deep breath. In no time at all, she heard shuffling of feet scurrying down the hallway and approaching her room. That's when she remembered. She was dead.

"Oh, my God! Buffy!"

Willow.

Buffy immediately sat up and tears formed in her eyes as she stared at her friend in the doorway. Willow rushed to her bedside and wrapped her arms around her best friend.

"I missed you so much," Willow told her, crying on her shoulder.

"Buffster..."

Xander.

He joined Willow and they both held Buffy in a warm embrace. Spike just leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, while he took in the moment. Buffy was back.

"Guys," Buffy sobbed. "You... you shouldn't be near me. I'm a vampire."

Fresh tears coated her eyes, as her friends stared at her in bewilderment. Then they instinctively backed away from her. Spike couldn't help but smile. "No, Slayer, you're not. Why you're here, I'm not sure yet, but I'll bet we'll find out soon enough."

"So... I'm not a vampire?"

Spike shook his head.

Relief washed over Buffy and she smiled back at her friends. Then she realized most of them were missing.

"Where's everyone else? Where's Dawn?"

Off their looks, Buffy's mind thought the worst. Dawn was dead. Her throat tightened and her stomach wretched. Her baby sister was gone.

"Oh, Buffy, it's not what you think. Dawn's fine. She's just..." Willow looked at Xander for help.

"Your bleedin' excuse for a father took 'er away. Right 'bout now she's prob'ly in Japan," Spike offered.

So she was gone. The person she sacrificed herself to save the world for was gone. She held back her tears.

"And Anya? Giles? And Tara?"

"Anya's at home with Callie," Xander informed her.

"Callie?" Buffy asked, confused.

"Oh, right. Callie's my daughter, Buffy."

She gave Xander a loving smile and touched his arm. "Congradulations."

He smiled back and coninued to fill her in on everything.

"Giles left for England, and Tara... well, Tara... you wanna take this one, Will?"

She nodded sadly.

"Tara and I broke up."

"I'm so sorry," Buffy told her, sincerely.

"S'okay. Things just didn't work out like I had planned, I guess."

Buffy smiled softly.

"I know the feeling."

The room suddenly fell silent.

"Well, um, I'm gonna go do some research," Willow said. "There's definitely a reason for your return, so I'll try to find out why. Oh, and contact Giles. I'm sure he'll know. I mean, I'm guessing the Powers sent you back 'cause there's a new evil a comin', but we should be sure, ya know?"

Buffy nodded and gave her friend one last hug before she left the room. Xander followed close behind.

"How's your arm?" Spike questioned, taking a step towards her bed after the two others left.

She glanced at it and realized it was bandaged up.

"Peachy. Is this your handiwork?"

He nodded and took out a cigarette. He approached the window and watched as the rain continued to come down like bullets.

"What was it like?" she asked out of nowhere.

He was about to ask what she meant, but he knew exactly what she was implying. So he shrugged.

"I got over it."

Buffy couldn't help but frown at his indifferent response.

"You got over it? Like I was some missed TV show or something?"

He glared daggers at her.

"You don't know the half of it."

"I'm sure I can figure it out."

He stalked over to her bedside and grabbed her by the shoulders. He brought his face inches from hers, until he could feel her warm breath on his face. Buffy tensed.

"Fine, Slayer, you really wanna know?"

"I said, I can fig --"

"I died that day!" He blurted out.

Although her expression remained unchanging, her heart felt for him. But, she refused to let him know.

"Get your hands off of me," she told him.

Spike studied her for a moment longer and gave her a slight shove for emphasis, before letting her go. He then turned and stormed out of the room, without looking back. The door slammed behind him and Buffy laid back down.

If the rest of her days on Earth were as bad as this, she wished she had just stayed dead.

Beyond Surrender: Part II
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