Chapter 2

“Day 6: We had our first casualty today. Thank goodness Ellen was here. She managed to get the bleeding under control pretty quickly, and stabilized Reyna enough to get her out. Giles said that the army had been talking about bombing the area, but they weren’t sure how much collateral damage it would cause, or whether everyone was evacuated. They’ve also decided that it’s going to cost them a lot less to secure the borders and let us kill all the demons.” ~Excerpt from Buffy Summers’ diary

Buffy watched Ellen from her spot near the doorway. She was working her magic on Spike, who was still crouched in the corner. Given past experience, Buffy had been a little surprised when Spike hadn’t attacked anybody. Instead, he’d stayed in the corner, watching.

She had no idea what was going through his head, but she was hoping that Ellen would.

Ellen was crooning comforting promises, telling Spike that he was safe, that no one was going to hurt him, that all would be well. Her voice seemed to have lulled him into trance, and he allowed her to put one hand on the side of his head. It was as close as he’d allowed anyone to get, except while unconscious.

Ellen finally gave his cheek a gentle pat and whispered something Buffy couldn’t make out. Whatever she’d said, Spike’s only reaction was to curl up on the floor and slip into a peaceful slumber.

“Let’s go find a place to sit down.” Ellen led Buffy out, putting a hand on her shoulder and walking her down the hall to the room that she and Dana still shared.

Dana was gone when they stepped inside the room, probably because she was off hunting with Connor. The two of them had seemed to form a strange bond, and they were just as into killing demons. Buffy knew that Ellen was already talking to Giles about finding them another place where they could expend their energies in a safe way.

“What’s going on with him?” Buffy asked quietly.

Ellen sighed. “Your guess was accurate, but there’s a little more to it than that.”

“How much more?”

“He was tortured, and time passed differently where they had him. That much was entirely accurate. The twist is that those torturing him used the faces of those Spike loved and trusted.”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t—” She stopped, remembering how the First had manipulated its victims. “They used my face.”

“Among others. He knew it wasn’t you, but after a time, it was too difficult. He did what he had to do in order to protect himself, and what you see is the result of that.”

She took a deep breath. “But you can help him, right? You helped Dana and Connor, so you can help him, too.”

Ellen shook her head. “I’m afraid that this is a very different situation. I could reach the people that they were, their humanity. I can’t reach Spike’s.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Why am I not shocked?”

“I can essentially do what he has already done, only more completely. All of his memories would still be there, but they would be suppressed until he’s ready to deal with them.” Ellen covered Buffy’s hand with her own.

“He wouldn’t remember me.” Buffy stood, pulling away from the witch.

“He wouldn’t remember anyone. He would essentially be a blank slate.”

Buffy couldn’t help it; she let loose a string of swear words that probably would have delighted Spike, since she’d learned a lot of them from him. “What if we wait? The same thing happened to Angel; he got over it.”

“Did they use your face?” Ellen asked quietly. “Perhaps if you sent him somewhere else, to stay with others for a time, he might recover without assistance, but I think you underestimate how long he was there, and how deeply he’s buried himself.”

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “But this way?”

“This way he comes to know that it’s over, and that you are the Buffy that he knows and trusts.”

“How long will it take?”

“I don’t know.”

“And he won’t know me.”

“He won’t know anyone.”

“That’s supposed to make it okay?” Buffy demanded.

“I can’t tell you what’s best. I can only give you some idea of what I can do for Spike, and what the consequences will be.” Ellen’s gaze was compassionate.

Buffy took a deep breath. “If you do this, will he feel better?”

Ellen shrugged. “I don’t know. He won’t remember the torture until he’s ready to do so, and I’ll try to arrange it so that when he remembers that much, he’ll also remember his past life as well. On the other hand, he will have no memories, and he’ll likely be confused and disoriented.”

“But he won’t be cowering in a corner. That’s what you’re telling me.”

“I can make no guarantees.”

“Who can?” Buffy paced back and forth, across the length of the room. “Okay, I want you to do it. I don’t want him to suffer, and if this helps, then I think we should go for it.”

Ellen nodded. “I’ll do it immediately.”

“Should I—”

“I’ll do it while he’s sleeping. When he wakes up, he won’t remember anything.” Ellen gripped her shoulder. “You should be there when he wakes.”

Buffy looked away, blinking back tears. “Sure.”

~~~~~

“Shit.” Faith stared at Wesley. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shook his head. “That’s what Ellen told me. Her—I suppose you could call it an operation—was successful, as far as she knows. What Spike will be like when he wakes up is another question entirely.”

Faith just shook her head. Sixteen months Buffy had been looking for Spike, only to lose him all over again. “Shit,” she repeated. “I never thought I’d say this, but poor Buffy. Did you see her?”

“She’s in the room with him.” Wesley sat down next to her on the bed. He’d stripped to his boxers, and she glanced over at him. He had more scars than she did on the outside, oddly enough, but they were just as scarred on the inside.

She reached over, tracing the circle of the bullet wound on his side, the pale line on his shoulder that she recognized as her own handiwork, the scar across the left side of his neck. “How long have we been together?”

Wesley stared at her, a frown creasing his forehead. “What?”

“How long have we been together?”

“Uh…” His eyes went blank as he did the calculation. “Almost two years.”

“That’s what I thought.” She straddled his lap. “What would you do if that was me? If I lost all my memories, and I didn’t remember you at all?”

His hands moved up under her shirt. “I suppose I would have to do my best to make you remember.”

“How long would you wait?”

“As long as it took.” Wesley’s hands pushed her hair back from her face. “What brought this on?”

“We’re partners.”

“Of course we are.” His blue eyes narrowed. “Faith…”

“Dammit, Wes. What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re living.” Strong hands cradled her face with a gentleness that Faith had never expected to want. “And we’re making love.”

“Is this love?”

A smile touched his lips. “I don’t see how it could be anything else, when I can’t stomach the idea of life without you.”

Faith felt the same, even though she couldn’t say it.

~~~~~

When he woke, it was to an unfamiliar face just inches from his own. She was beautiful—that was the first thought that crossed his mind. The second was panic because not only could he not remember who the woman was, he couldn’t even remember who he was.

Rolling off the bed, away from the woman, he looked around the room in a panic. It looked like a hotel room, albeit a very rundown hotel room.

“Spike, it’s okay.” He turned back to the woman, who had her hands extended in a clear attempt to reassure him. “Really.”

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Buffy.” He could hear weariness in her voice, a sort of sadness that hurt to hear. “You’re in Los Angeles, in a hotel. Look, I promise I’ll explain everything.”

He wanted to believe her. It was startling, how much he wanted to trust her, but he needed to see for himself.

Later, he would wonder what the hell he was thinking, because if he didn’t even remember his own name, how would he know that he really was in Los Angeles?

Wherever that was.

She called out an inarticulate warning as he pulled open the curtain, allowing sunlight to flood the room. He turned to look at her in surprise, wondering what the problem was with looking out over the city. “What?”

“N—nothing.”

That wasn’t the truth. He knew from her eyes that she was lying to him. “Is there something wrong?”

She moved to his side, taking his left hand in hers, staring down at the silver ring adorning his middle finger. “You have to promise me that you won’t take this off.”

“Why? Is it like a wedding ring?”

She laughed, but the sound was harsh, and it sounded as though it had been ripped from her. “No. No, it’s not a wedding ring.”

He felt a pang, although he couldn’t have said why. She was a stranger to him, even if the reverse was not true.

“Do you want to get cleaned up? I’ll grab some clean clothes for you.” She nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll be right back, and we can talk.”

She was at the door before he had a chance to speak, and he called after her, “You know me.”

He realized how inane those words were even as they came out of his mouth. Of course she knew him; she’d called him by name and had promised to explain everything.

Buffy paused in the doorway, then turned. He thought he could see the tears in her eyes. “Better than you know.”

Then she was gone, leaving him alone with his multitude of unanswered questions.

~~~~~

Buffy blinked back tears, leaning against the wall outside their room. It was still their room; she’d never thought of it any other way. She had never allowed herself to question whether or not she would find him, and she had. That was Spike in there.

Laughing bitterly, she wondered if she should have called him Randy, and introduced herself as Joan. They had gotten along swimmingly after Willow had wiped out their memories. For a brief time, they had been happy, unhindered by the baggage that came along with being a vampire and a resurrected Slayer.

And now? Now, just as they had been getting beyond that baggage, forging a relationship built on trust and love, this happened.

“Buffy? Is everything okay?” Willow stood in front of her, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

Buffy shook her head. “He has no idea who I am, Will.”

“You knew that was going to happen.”

“There’s knowing, and then there’s knowing.” She buried her head in her hands. “He looks at me, and he has no idea…”

It was too painful to say the words out loud again, and she stopped, letting Willow pull her into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Buffy.”

She allowed Willow to hold her for a brief time, then pulled back. “I promised I’d find him some clean clothes.”

“Aren’t they in your room?”

She shrugged. “I needed some time.”

Willow’s eyes were serious. “Hang in there, Buffy. I know Spike, and I know how he feels about you. Whether or not he remembers you right now, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Time?” Buffy asked. “What kind of time are we talking, Willow? It could be days or years. It could be decades before he remembers.”

“Maybe he won’t need to remember.” Willow’s hand patted her on the back awkwardly. “Maybe he’ll just fall in love with you all over again.”

Buffy wished she could believe that.

~~~~~

He felt uncomfortable, sitting on the bed, wearing only a towel. From the state of the bathroom, it was clear that he was in her room, and he couldn’t help but wonder how it was he’d come to be with her in a hotel.

It felt like more than a hotel, however, and almost like a home. Was that supposed to feel strange to him? How was he supposed to feel? How did he know that he didn’t have a place of his own to rest his head?

How did he know anything at all, and how could he trust these flashes of insight when he didn’t even recognize his own name?

“Sorry.” Buffy slipped back inside the room. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Now that she’d said something, he realized that he was. His hunger felt familiar, and yet not, and when he caught the scent of the steaming liquid in the mug, he felt his face shift.

“It’s okay.” She must have sensed his growing alarm, because she sat down next to him, grabbing one of his hands in her own and wrapping it around the warm mug. “I thought it would be easier this way.”

“What would be?”

“The explanations.”

“What am I?”

He knew. At least, he thought he knew. The blood that he was staring at was a pretty good indicator, but the light from the window hadn’t burned him, and he had seen his unfamiliar reflection in the mirror.

“You’re a vampire. You have a soul, though, and the ring—it keeps the sunlight from killing you.”

“That’s why I’m not supposed to take it off.”

“That’s why.” She sighed. “You should drink. It’ll get cold, and I’m told that’s pretty bad.”

“It doesn’t disgust you?”

“I’m used to it by now, so no, it doesn’t disgust me.”

It disgusted him, and at the same time didn’t. He should have hated it; the thick liquid, the coppery taste—it all should have turned his stomach.

Instead, he found it delicious.

“We’re still working on getting a steady supply, so it’s probably going to be short rations for a while. I’m sorry about that.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. He had no idea how often he normally needed to eat, for that matter. “Does it ever go away?”

“Does what?”

“The hunger?”

“I—I don’t know. I never asked.” She walked over to a threadbare duffel bag on the other side of the bed. “I don’t know how clean these are. I never really checked. I didn’t think—” She stopped. “I guess I just didn’t think.” She handed him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “I called Giles. He’s going to pack up some of your stuff and send it. I guess we could probably go back to England now, but I feel like I should stay here until we know things are really under control.”

He didn’t understand any of what she’d just said, except for the part about going back to England. That sounded familiar, and he’d heard his accent; he’d thought it was English.

“You don’t know who Giles is.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he shook his head anyway. “No, I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry.” Buffy rubbed her hands on her denim-covered legs. “I’ll let you get dressed.”

“Don’t.” He didn’t want her to leave. She had been the first thing he’d seen when he woke up, and therefore was most familiar to him in the midst of all this strangeness. “Don’t leave.”

Relief caused the tension in her face to bleed out, and she smiled—the first he’d seen from her. “Okay. Whatever you want.”

Strangely, her words did not make him feel any better.

~~~~~

“Another shipment, huh? I thought you guys just got one.”

Vi shrugged. She knew that Buffy and some of the others regarded the soldiers with suspicion, and she understood that. The situation was odd, to say the least, and who was to say that the army wouldn’t try to get rid of them as soon as they’d finished the clean up.

Still, she’d found that things went a lot smoother if she was friendly with the guards that ran the checkpoint.

“There was an emergency,” she replied, taking the cooler from him, and handing it to Audra, who loaded it on one of the ATVs. “You know how it goes. There’s always one more thing you need.”

“I hope no one was seriously hurt.” Ramirez was young, and had been stationed in L.A. for about a month now. He was by far Vi’s favorite among the soldiers—not least because he apparently had a sister who was a Slayer.

In truth, if things had been different, she probably would have asked him out.

Vi shook her head. “It wasn’t anything serious. How’s your sister? She’s in Cleveland, right?”

He nodded. “She’s doing good. I think she’s gunning to get sent here, though.”

Reading the worry in his eyes, Vi smiled. “Not gonna happen. We’ve pretty much got things sewn up, so more Slayers aren’t needed at the moment.”

“That’s good. What you guys are doing is great, but I don’t want my sister in there.”

Vi smiled. “No one does. See you soon, Manny.”

Once they were well away from the checkpoint, Vi turned to Audra. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Other than when we found him? No. Buffy’s keeping him in their hotel room. I’m not even sure that she’s had Willow take down the barrier spell.”

“Have you heard the rumors going around?”

Audra’s lips turned up. “About the hotness factor? Oh, yeah. Most of the girls are dying to get a look at him. He’s too skinny for me, though.”

“He could use a few meals.”

They rode in companionable silence for a few blocks, their engines the only sound echoing through empty streets. Los Angeles was like a ghost town these days, at least in the section that the army had quarantined.

It was a far cry from what it had been when Vi had first arrived. The streets then had been a lot more dangerous, and Slayers were going out in groups of at least six for safety’s sake. Now, a well-trained Slayer could go out by herself and not be taking her life into her hands.

“You going to stay here when this is over?” Vi asked suddenly.

Audra shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s going to change when they open things up again.”

“Yeah.”

“No more racing.” Audra’s quick grin was the only warning Vi had before Audra hit the gas, sending her four-wheeler hurtling forward.

Vi didn’t hesitate to do the same. She’d long since learned that you made things fun whenever you could. It was a lesson that a Slayer couldn’t afford not to learn.