Chapter 4

“Day 97: Giles has been on my case to take a break lately. I think I’m going to have to, just so he will stop mentioning it every time we talk. Besides, Dawnie wants to spend Christmas together, and I feel like we should. I haven’t seen her in months, and that’s mostly because I made Giles promise not to let her come here. She knows how dangerous it still is, so she’s agreeing—for now. I have no doubt that as soon as she decides she really wants to be here, she’ll find a way.” ~Excerpt from the diary of Buffy Summers

Buffy wanted to be upset when she saw Dawn walking into the hotel lobby, with Oliver at her heels, but she couldn’t manage it. She was too happy to see her sister to be upset.

“Dawnie.” She hugged her tight. “I thought I told you not to come.”

It was only a token protest, and Dawn seemed to understand that. “I had to see him—and you. Besides, Giles said that you’ve just about wrapped things up here.”

Buffy nodded. “Almost. Maybe another week?”

“What are you going to do after that?”

“I don’t know.” It was one of the questions that had been plaguing her. Buffy knew that they could go just about anywhere—Brazil, Africa, England, or anywhere else Giles needed two warriors. They could even stay in L.A., although she wasn’t sure that would be such a good idea once things were mopped up.

Buffy had talked to Faith, and the other Slayer wanted to open the doors of the hotel again, to do private detective work, and use that as a basis for training Slayers. She planned on using Angel’s name as a sort of memorial. Buffy couldn’t help but think that there wouldn’t be enough room for her and Spike in that situation.

“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure,” Dawn told her. “Where is he?”

“In the kitchen. Some of the Slayers who were there when he disappeared are filling him in.” Buffy forced a smile. “I haven’t really told him much yet, just the basics.” She realized that she was probably being rude. “Do you guys want something to eat, or do you just want to head up to your room?”

“I could eat,” Dawn said. “Oliver?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll take the bags up, Buffy,” Vi offered.

“Thanks.” Buffy led her sister and Oliver back towards the kitchen.

“How are you really, Buffy?” Dawn asked as they walked down the hallway.

Buffy hesitated. “I’m okay. Ellen seems to think that it’s just a matter of time before Spike remembers, and he’s been sticking pretty close to me.”

“That’s good.”

Buffy knew her sister was trying to be encouraging. “Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

They fell silent as they entered the kitchen. Spike was surrounded by half a dozen Slayers. Caridad was talking, and Buffy recognized the story she was telling immediately. She’d heard it herself any number of times.

“It was total chaos,” Caridad was saying. “You couldn’t see anyone except your partner, and that was only because Faith and Wes had hammered home how important it was to stick together. Angel was fighting the dragon, I guess, and he shielded Wes when it blew fire. That’s how he was killed and Wes got burned. You should see the scar on his arm sometime. Connor was the one who saw you get dragged through the portal, but he got separated from the rest of us. We didn’t find out until we were already in the process of closing it.”

Caridad stopped, seeing the expression on his face. “Buffy about went batshit crazy when she found out what happened. We had to close the portal, but she wanted to go in after you.”

“I should have.” Buffy spoke from the doorway of the kitchen. She cleared her throat. “Guys, this is my sister, Dawn and her boyfriend, Oliver. You all probably know that she’s stationed in Cleveland.”

There were a chorus of hellos, and Buffy watched as Dawn stared at Spike. She saw when Dawn realized what the loss of memory had done as Spike’s expression showed no sign of recognition.

“It’s good to see you again, Spike,” Dawn said softly.

He looked at Buffy, his eyes holding a plea, and then looked at Dawn again. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Dawn said quickly. “I just wanted to see you.” She turned to Buffy. “You know, I don’t think I’m very hungry after all. Do you mind if we head upstairs?”

“Go ahead.” Buffy understood Dawn’s reaction all too well. “Les? Do you know which room they’re in?”

“Sure. I’ll show them.” Leslie led Dawn and Oliver out of the kitchen, and as though a silent signal had been given, the other Slayers filtered out one by one.

Spike looked stricken. “I didn’t handle that well.”

“You did fine. This is just hard.”

He brought his fist down on the metal counter, the sound echoing through the room. “Bloody hell.”

That brought an unwilling laugh out of her, and when he looked reproachful, she sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you really sounded like your old self.”

“What was she to me, Buffy?”

“You took care of her the summer I was gone. You were like a brother.”

“And now she’s a stranger.”

Buffy sighed. “Basically.”

Spike turned away from her. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Fear seized her in its icy grip. “Do what?”

“I can’t keep meeting people I should know but don’t.” He gripped the metal counter so hard she could hear it creak. “It’s not fair to them, an’ it’s not fair to me.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “Do you want to go somewhere else? I can talk to Giles, and you—”

“I didn’t mean for you to…” She could hear him sigh. “I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. I don’t know who I am, Buffy. I haven’t a bloody clue. There are things I know, an’ I don’t know how. Don’t know how I know I trust you, or how I knew how to kill that demon last night.”

“It’s okay, Spike.”

“The hell it is.”

Buffy’s temper flared. “Fine. It’s not okay. How the hell do you think I feel? If you think you’re the only one suffering here, think again.”

“Buffy—”

“I’m sorry.” She took a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s a fair statement.” Spike ran a hand over his face. “Just—tell me something.”

“What’s that?”

“How did we meet?” He offered her a weak smile. “I don’t even know that much.”

He didn’t know a whole lot. Buffy suddenly realized that he didn’t know about Drusilla or Angel; Spike felt no grief over Angel’s death, no guilt for his past crimes. He had a clean slate, something Buffy had often wished for.

And maybe now they could have it.

“It was before you had your soul,” Buffy said, her mind still racing. If she could convince Giles, they could go somewhere, just the two of them. They could have a week or a month—or hell, a year, if that’s what it took—to get to know one another again.

Giles had been encouraging her to get away from Los Angeles for a while. Maybe it was time to take him up on that offer.

She realized that Spike had asked her a question. “I’m sorry?”

“How long have I had my soul?”

“Two years—no, three. I think. I hate to say this, Spike, because I know it sounds lame, but this is a long story. The thing is that you came to Sunnydale, and you tried to kill me. I tried to kill you. Somewhere in there, things changed, but I don’t know where to begin.” She saw the expression on his face and held up a hand. “And trust me, ‘at the beginning’ is a lot easier said then done. A lot happened.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll start slow. Tell me about the first time we met.”

Buffy glanced around the kitchen. This wasn’t where she wanted to have this conversation. “Come on. There’s a courtyard that’s pretty nice. I’d rather be sitting down for this.”

~~~~~

Spike had left Buffy asleep in their room. Although they were ostensibly sharing a bed, he didn’t think that they had used it at the same time in the last few days since he’d awoken with no memory of who he was or how he’d come to be there.

The long conversation with Buffy in the courtyard—they had talked long after the sun had set and the moon had risen—had anchored him somewhat. There had been a lot she couldn’t tell him, but he knew enough now to have some idea of where he’d come from, and where he’d been going.

He’d known that Buffy was in love with him; that much had been obvious from the moment he woke up. What he hadn’t realized was how much he’d loved her, how far they’d come. Spike had begun to realize how much pain his inability to remember must have caused Buffy. The others, as well, but especially Buffy.

“Spike?”

He turned to see Willow. “H’lo.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“You hungry?”

“A bit, but Buffy says it’s going to be short rations until there’s a steady supply of blood.” Spike shrugged. “I can deal with the hunger.”

Willow raised her eyebrows. “I think there’s enough in there for a meal or two. If nothing else, Giles can make sure there’s a supply in a designated area and I can transport it in. It takes a lot of energy, but it can be done.”

She was already rummaging in the fridge. Spike had seen that the kitchen was one of the gathering places in the hotel. With as many young Slayers as there were, someone was always hungry, and it was one of the larger rooms on the ground floor.

Willow set out the makings of a sandwich and a bag of blood on the counter. “Do you want it warmed up?”

“Uh, sure.” Spike would have offered to do it himself, but he wasn’t quite sure how long it was supposed to be in the microwave. That was one of the pieces of information that appeared to be missing.

He watched her silently, and she went about her preparations. Spike noticed that she was making two sandwiches, and he finally commented on it. “Hungry?”

“One’s for Oz,” she explained.

“Right.”

“Is Buffy sleeping?”

“She was when I left. I wasn’t tired.”

Willow nodded. The microwave beeped, and she handed the large mug of blood to him. “I hope that’s the right temperature. I haven’t had to do it for a while.”

The flashback hit him suddenly as she busied herself with the sandwiches again. Willow, holding him in place with magic while Buffy slowly and methodically poured holy water on him, laughing as his skin sizzled.

Spike barely managed to respond to her cheerful goodnight, and he stood frozen, hardly able to believe what he’d just seen. Had he imagined it? Had it been a nightmare? Why would he remember something like that if it hadn’t happened? And, if it had, how could he possibly reconcile his memory with the treatment he’d received from them so far?

“Breathe.”

The command was gentle, the hands that seized his upper arms warm and firm. Some of the panic left him at her touch, and he looked into a face that was strange and familiar. “I’m not—”

“You might not need to breathe, but the principle applies.” She took the mug from him, setting it on the counter before clasping his hands in hers. “You had a flashback, Spike. It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “What I saw—”

“What you saw was a glimpse of the torture you faced in that hell dimension,” she said bluntly. “It’s also why the more traditional techniques were not going to work with you.”

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“Come. You need to sit down, but first you need to eat. We don’t have so much blood that you can afford to let a meal go to waste.” As he drank it down, she added, “I’m Ellen. Buffy will have told you something about me.”

“You were the one who erased my memories,” he accused.

Ellen snorted. “Erased? Hardly. They’re still there, waiting for you to be ready to face them. I think you might understand why now.”

Spike still couldn’t process what he’d seen. “Buffy—and Willow—”

“They tried to break you.” Ellen paused. “It is like this—when a person’s mind can bear no more, they will go away. Spike—the person you were before you disappeared—knew that what he was seeing wasn’t real. He knew that those he loved and trusted would never do what it was he was seeing them do, and so he—you, rather—buried himself as deeply as possible, waiting until it was safe to come out.”

“If it’s safe now, why can’t I remember?”

“Because your mind still saw Buffy and Willow and the others torturing you, and it had gone on for so long that there was no way to get through to you that it was safe when those were the people you kept seeing. And so, I helped you block out the torture.”

“And now I can’t remember anything.”

Her eyes were full of compassion. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“What if you hadn’t? What if you’d just waited?”

Ellen hesitated, then said, “Give me your hand.”

Her expression told him that this wasn’t going to be pleasant, but Spike thought that she might be able to help him one way or another. He held out his hand.

Ellen took it, her hands warm and slightly dry. “Close your eyes.”

And when he did so, the images flew fast and furious through his mind—he was training Slayers, fighting, watching a vampire dust with horror. Then he was in a room, crouched in a corner, with no more sense than an animal. He saw what Ellen had seen—a man lost inside his own mind, unable to break through the protective barriers that he had created.

When she released him, Spike stared at her. It took him a moment to find the words to say, but he asked, “You couldn’t have helped me? You couldn’t have broken down those walls?”

“Would you have wanted to risk madness? It is one thing to risk a human’s sanity, but a vampire’s? Would you have wanted to live that way forever?”

“No.” It felt as though the word had been torn from his lips. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. “Don’t even know where to start.”

Ellen patted his cheek. “There is a woman upstairs who would move heaven and earth for you. Perhaps that’s where you should start.”

“She loves me.”

“She does.”

“I don’t—I’m not in love with her. I don’t feel that way. I might never feel that way.” That was his fear; Spike might not be in love with Buffy, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

Ellen shook her head. “She knows that, but it’s not going to change the way she feels. Whatever you do, Buffy will be hurt—but not having you by her side will cause greater pain.”

Spike swallowed and nodded. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all anyone can ask.”

~~~~~

Buffy tried to keep her voice low. “I want some time with just the two of us, Giles. I don’t care what you have to do. I think we deserve that much.”

“You do, Buffy, and I did promise. Just a moment.” There was a pause, and Buffy could hear him talking to someone else. “I’d like for you to stop through Bath on your way. Xander and Corey will be here in a week, and I know he mentioned wanting to see you and Willow if possible.”

Now that Buffy had made a decision, she wanted to carry it out, even though she knew that Spike would have to agree first. “Okay. It would be good to get the gang together.”

“Very well. I’ll make the other arrangements. Xander is staying for a week.”

Buffy recognized what Giles was saying. “A week in Bath is fine. I’m hoping that we’ll both be ready to teach after this, Giles. I need—”

“You need to not be on the front lines,” Giles said gently. “Of course, Buffy. If anyone deserves some time off, it’s the two of you. Give Spike my best, and tell Wes and Faith that I’ll call soon.”

Buffy hung up, and collapsed on the couch in the office. She’d spent sixteen months in Los Angeles, and they had been under siege for a good part of that time. She’d been fighting for so long that she didn’t know how to do anything else.

“Buffy?”

Spike stood in the doorway, looking awkward. “What’s up?”

“I—do you know where Dawn is? I’d like to give things another try.”

Buffy managed a smile. “I think she’s with Wesley and Faith. No one knows more about organizing a campaign than she does.”

“Uh, maybe it should wait, then.”

“She’ll make time,” Buffy said knowingly. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Spike nodded, sitting down on the other end of the couch gingerly. “Go on.”

“I talked to Giles—the head of the Council,” she reminded him, knowing that all the names probably had his head swimming. “He said we could have a break if we wanted one.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a place we went, before things got crazy, sort of a retreat,” Buffy began. “I thought we could go there again. Maybe with fewer people it would be easier, and we could get to know one another again.”

“Buffy—”

“I’m not saying that you have to feel obligated or anything,” she rushed on. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to feel something for me when you don’t. I mean you feel something or you don’t feel something, right? There’s nothing you can do about that, and—”

He moved quickly, scooting closer and putting a finger to her lips to stop her. “It’s just that I don’t want to hurt you. I know you love me, and I can’t return that, not yet. I’m not saying it won’t happen, just that I don’t want you to mistake my gratitude for love.”

Buffy choked on a sob. That was a speech that she could have—maybe should have—given him once upon a time. “Oh, God, Spike.”

It was suddenly too much, and though she’d never meant to let him see her cry, she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

He didn’t say anything, merely pulled her close, cradling her head on his shoulder. For just a moment, Buffy could pretend that it was Spike—her Spike—who held her, the vampire who had loved her enough to go to the end of the world for his soul.

When her tears slowed, Spike pulled back a bit. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Buffy wiped her cheeks hastily. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were right earlier, about this not being easy for anyone.” Spike tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I think we should get away. Think it might be easier.” He paused. “There’s somethin’ you should know.”

Buffy listened as he described his flashback and his encounter with Ellen. When he was finished, she winced. “I won’t lie to you. We did some pretty awful things to each other, but if you tell me what you remember, I’ll tell you if it happened.”

“Fair enough.” His strong hand cupped her cheek, and Buffy closed her eyes.

With her eyes closed, she didn’t have to see the expression on his face—tender, but devoid of the passion and love she remembered so well and missed so much. With her eyes closed, it was just Spike’s hand on her cheek, the way he’d touched her so many times before.

.