Buffy handed the baby off as she moved into the crowd of spectators forming around the screaming woman. Willow's eyes were closed, her lips moving as she spoke softly under her breath. Buffy seemed to blink as she shifted out of the visible light spectrum and slipped into the men's room. Joycie began to cry, and Tara leaned over and cuddled her close with a free hand. "Ssh. It's okay. Mommy will be right back." She looked about nervously, as unconsciously she pulled both children closer to herself.

Three uniformed security personnel arrived onto the scene. Tara and the children found themselves marginalized as the crowd was pushed back and the area cleared. Several terrifying minutes elapsed as they waited for Buffy, Willow concentrating on the spell, Tara concentrating on calming the children.

Willow felt a shoulder tap and nearly jumped out of her skin "It's getting too hard to move in there- The cops are taking over," said Buffy. The words shattered the protective spell and she was visible again, now standing at Willow's elbow. She took Wills into her arms as she surveyed the crowd. "I think we need to get out of this place, let the police take care of things now," she said.

"What happened?" Tara asked, pushing forward to reach them.

Buffy shook her head.

"Later. Let's get out of this crowd." She collected her things and trudged towards the front of the airport, Willow and Tara following behind. As they waited for a cab, Buffy chewed her lip and worried.

"Are you sure it was him you saw? Absolutely sure?" she asked.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Buffy, I know what I saw. It was him. Angel's friend. I mean, it could have been a spell- something to alter appearance. But no one knows we're here. And why would someone else want to look like him? Why like a dead guy?" She grimaced. "I know it's freaky. Way with the freakiness. But I think it was him. The question is, why isn't he all dead?" She took in Buffy's hard expression, and sombered. " What did you see in there?"

Buffy turned towards her, softening a little. "I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't mean to sound like that. But I was really hoping it wasn't him." She lowered her voice a little, and ran a soothing hand down the back of Joyce's blonde hair. "It was my usual kind of corpse.Two punctures, neck region. Pretty bloodless really. Whatever happened to him, he's a neat eater."

Tara spoke up. "You think it was him, then? You think he's a"-

Buffy nodded. "Survey says- vampire. C'mon, we went to the funeral. I think that can really only mean one thing."

"But you guys looked for a bite mark, right? Didn't you?" asked Tara.

Buffy shrugged. "I assumed Angel did. But it was a closed-casket- he was sorta messed up." She sighed quietly. "We so need a cremation law around here."

Willow's shoulders slumped. "You know, the odds of us running into him like this are practically a zillion to one. It's just too convenient." It was Tara's turn to shrug. "The fates are like that sometimes, Willow."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at her. "Like what? Oh- you mean, 'Anvilly'?"
 

"Pet, I don't think this is working," commented Spike as he hefted another box. It was labeled in Buffy's tidy script, just like the seven others she'd had him cart upstairs to the living room. 'Joyce', 'Buffy', 'Dad's Junk', 'Dawn- 9th grade'... various obscure references to the box contents. This one was clearly marked 'toys' and Dawn was halfway certain there might be something in it that belonged to her, although she hadn't shared her reasoning with him yet.

She sighed and pushed the hair back out of her eyes, surveying the damage from her lofty position on the basement steps. "Just bring it up, okay, Spike? Please?"

He rolled his eyes and grumbled softly. "Your wish is my command." Then he toted it to the top of the stairs, watching her intently as she hobbled back to the living room. "I thought I asked you to stay off your feet," he added.

"I just wanted to see how many more boxes were down there. Besides, I kept it elevated all last night. The swelling's gone down and everything," she answered back. She flopped onto the sofa amid piles of yearbooks. "Hey, Buffy with Big Hair. Wanna see?"

He sat the box on the edge of the coffee table and tossed a flowered pillow onto the floor, making more room on the sofa. Then he sank down beside her and took the proferred book.

"Your sister won't much like that you showed me this," he said, grinning. Then his face took on a more somber cast. "Anything yet?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Nothing. Zip. Nada." She shrugged and made a face. "Although, not remembering that perm is probably not such a bad thing. Wonder if it was some home-thingie Mom did, or if Buffy actually paid for that." She flipped the book onto the floor and reached for the unopened box. Spike beat her to it, deftly peeling up the tape and pulling back the sides

Dawn reached in and smiled. "I think some of these'r probably mine. Least, I think they are." She pulled out a naked Barbie doll and studied it. Blonde hair and vapid blue eyes, chewed fingers and toes- relic of a childhood she could no longer remember.

Or was it? She didn't have any evidence that it had ever belonged to her, merely the supposition that she'd played with these things. The cool plastic felt right in her hand- her fingers knew the contour of a tiny vinyl waist and the scratchy brush-brush feeling of ratty doll hair, even if her brain couldn't produce the memory itself.

"Yeah, well. Box says "Toys"on one side, doesn't it? So you must have played with these." He stuck a hand in an pulled out a naked Ken doll. "Oi. Right ugly wanker, isn't he? All lumps and big teeth." He chucked it back into the box with a sigh. "Maybe we're going about this all wrong," he offered quietly.

She shook her head and tossed the doll back into the box. "I don't know. I thought this would help."

She looked so forlorn. He reached a hand over and smoothed her hair back off her forehead.

She jerked upwards as inspiration hit her. "Tell me about the first time you ever saw me, Spike. Tell me about when you met me. Because I can remember that."

He chuckled, and his arm relaxed as he slid it behind her shoulders and scooted her closer to himself. "I think it was whenever your sister brought you and your mum to the crypt that night to hide. I'd seen pictures of you in the house before, I knew Joyce had two children. But the first time we ever spoke? I think it was the night Buffy brought you to me to hide from the Hellgod." He gave her an affectionate squeeze. "You were right put out, you were. And bored silly."

She slumped against him, smiling. "Yeah. Mom seemed so, I dunno.... normal about it all. Like it was no big deal. Here we were, hanging in a crypt with this vampire, and she was okay with it. And because she was, I was."

He smiled back at her. "Your mum was a lady in the truest sense of the word. She knew how to make other people comfortable, no matter how awkward the situation."

"Yeah. She was just like that. I wonder if she was always that way." She broke off, troubled. "I can't remember."

"I think maybe she was, Pet. Leastways, long as I knew her, she was." He grew quiet, reminiscing. "Somehow she managed to make me feel welcome, make me feel cared about... even then. She was good to me. You might not remember it, but she used to let me into the house at night, when Buffy was out, and talk to me. Or not really talk. More that she just listened. At that time, she was the only person who did."

"She liked you a lot, Spike. I ... I think she'd be proud of the way you turned out."

His tone grew more serious. "I hope so. I really hope so. I thought we were doing okay, doing all right by you"-

Dawn heard the doubt creeping into his voice. "No. Spike, you gotta stop thinking that way. This thing that happened to me, it doesn't have anything to do with you. It's nothing you or Buffy did, alright? It's just me. I'm the one that messed up." She pulled away from him then, her back stiffening even as her shoulders fell. "There's something really wrong about me, Spike. Something bad. I- I'm not a good person."

"Rubbish. You're fine."

"No. I'm not. I'm a bodysnatcher, or some kind of hi-tech zombie. I'm dead, Spike. You know what that kareoke demon called me? He said I was an abomination. I'm an unholy thing."

"Pet, he said nothing of the kind. He said what the monks did to make you was an abomination. But you know what? I've never been gladder of an unholy thing in my life."

She turned angry eyes on him. "You say that because you love me."

"Yeah? Tell me something I don't know."

Her mouth twisted. "You love me because you're supposed to, Spike. So does Buffy. It's not like I earned it. The monks, they made me this way. They made me complete with years of memories that never really happened, made everyone remember me and love me even though I wasn't really there. The way you all feel about me, it isn't real. It's a cheat, it's the spell. I don't think it ever really bothered me until I didn't share those memories anymore. Now it all feels like a lie."

"You're forgetting something, pet."

She glared at him.

"Sorry. Unintentionally punning, I swear. But Dawn- I don't have those memories. I never knew baby Dawn. I don't have a single fake memory of my time with you. The first time I saw you I thought you were an obnoxious little twit. I certainly didn't love you."

"Gee, thanks Spike. You really know how to cheer a girl up."

But her expression was not so grim now, and there was humor in her eyes.

"I love you for yourself," he said quietly. "There's no spell on me, nothing artificial at work here. I love you because you're strong, and you're generous. It makes me happy just to hear your voice." He took her hands in his and sought out her gaze. "You're my firstborn, Dawn. You're the daughter of my heart. I don't know why the Powers saw fit to send you to us, or why on earth they saw fit to entrust you to me, but you're mine. My family. And if you never get your memory back, you'll be no less to me than you were before. If you're not 'Good' by some arbitrary, inflexible definition of Good and Evil, I don't give a bloodydamn. If you grow demony scales and wings, I'll still love you."

She smiled at that, and he relaxed. She understood him. Good. He had to make her see, had to make her realise how important she was to him, to all of them. How the hell else was he to get to the bottom of this, how else was he to protect her?

"If Buffy could turn back time, turn the clock back and make it so you never came to us, do you think she would do that? Honestly? Because she wouldn't. You've brought so much to her life, so much joy..."

"So much sadness," she interjected. "I've made her miserable too."

"The blessings outweigh the bad times, Dawn. So you were a hard kid for a few years." He shrugged. "I'm sure Joycie will give you a run for your money in time. It's what kids do." He grinned.

"Besides... can't really take issue with the whole Juvenile-delinquency thing, can I? Not without looking the right bloody hypocrite. You'd never have been able to break and enter if I'd never taught you to pick locks. If you're a little amoral, well, look at the role models you had."

The grin faltered as his own words sank in.

She seized his hand again, squeezing it tightly. "Promise me you won't tell Buffy about Kentucky, Spike. Or about the memories. She won't- She can't know." Her voice dropped. "It would hurt her so badly."

His heart turned over in his throat. He'd do anything for her, anything at all. But lie to Buffy? Lie to his wife?

"Dawn, I can't promise that. She needs to know. If you're in trouble, we need to deal with it. You're going to need both of us. Especially if something's gone wrong with the spell that made you."

She let go his hand and moved away from him on the couch.

"She's got Joycie and Wills to think of now, she needs to focus on them.. She can't afford to get involved all this. I didn't even want you to get into it," she accused. "I'm an adult now. I have to handle this on my own. I can't go my whole life relying on my parents to make it better."

"And I don't expect you to. But this thing with the memories, it's bigger than just you, Dawn! Surely you see that."

She squared her shoulders. "I don't. And if you tell Buffy, I"ll, I'll"-

He raised an eyebrow at her and her defiance fell away.

"I don't know what I'll do," she finished dejectedly. "But I don't want her to know. You can call it pride, or whatever. But I don't want her hurt by this. Think how it would make her feel, how worried she would be." She leveled her gaze at him. "If she found out about Kentucky, what would that make her feel like?"

She had him by the balls. That sick feeling in his stomach when he'd realised what she had done, and what had happened to her...

No. Buffy shouldn't ever feel that way.

"Should Buffy maybe have called, first?" Tara's question was politely phrased in inoffensive tones. Willow had been in a bad mood every since Buffy left them outside the rental shop.

"Somehow, I just don't think this is the kind of thing you wanna hear by phone ," commented Willow. Her eyes never left the road. "Besides- we haven't seen the gang in ages. It'll be nice to catch up."

They passed their short drive in silence. As they drew closer to downtown a knot began forming in Tara's stomach.'You're being ridiculous,' she chided herself. 'You barely remember being here before.' That whole time was hazy in her brain. It was silly to be afraid of a memory. Besides, the Goddess was gone, Willow had taken care of her. She couldn't hurt anyone ever again. Tara pasted a false smile onto her face, even as she swallowed a lump in her throat. How far from here was it, she wondered? The hospital where the bitchgoddess reigned dementedly supreme- was it nearby? Across town? Another planet was not far enough away to make her feel safe again.

Willow parked along the street in front of the hotel, and began digging in her fanny pack.. "Honey, do you have any change?" she asked. A wad of bills and crumpled receipts fell out into her lap, and she stuffed them back inside carelessly. "I'm light on the jingly stuff."

Tara nodded her assent and began digging thru her purse. Then she got out and fed the meter while Willow waited for streetside traffic to pass.

Moments later Cordelia ushered them into the lobby, gushing and friendly. "Willow! Haven't seen you in ages. And Tara- you look great. Have you lost weight? How have you two been?"

She gestured towards the sofa and the three women sat down together.

"Uh, Pretty good, actually. Thanks for asking," Willow began. "You? Are we interrupting or anything?"

Cordy laughed. "Nothing important. Things are okay. Hannah just went down for a nap. The guys are out working- Angel's got a lead on a case, Lindsay went along as backup. Lilah's in the back doing some paperwork." She grinned. "I had a busy afternoon of cosmo and nail polish in my future."

Tara's nervous glance prodded Willow to get on with it. "Cordy, we're not really here to visit. Not that we don't want to- I mean, that'd be nice and all. But we- When is Angel coming back?"

Her friend's brow arched with worry. "Why does this sound like bad news? Why is it never 'Hi Cordy, we missed you, let's do lunch?' instead it's always 'Hi Cordy, great to see you, but by the way the world's ending again.'"

She made a face. "Angel's not expected back to the office any time soon."

Willow shifted awkwardly in her seat.

"What? What is it?" Cordy asked impatiently.

Tara scooted closer to her lover and surreptitiously took her hand. Willow clutched back at her like a lifeline, and chanced a glance over into her eyes. Their serenity gave her comfort. She turned back to Cordy.

"Cordelia, it's about your friend Gunn."

Spike shifted uneasily on his feet, fidgeting, and wishing he had something to do with his hands. On days like this one he really missed the tactile comforts of a cigarette. He hung back a bit, giving Dawn space to be alone with her mother. They'd picked up flowers at a discount shop down the street, and now the girl was involved with arranging them inside the pushup vase at the base of the stone. She was speaking aloud, but he deliberately ignored her. The conversation didn't involve him, it was just for Joyce.

He watched her with worry in his blue eyes, concern in his expression. He'd tried to brush off the changes in her personality, tried to explain them away as adolescence and early adulthood, as the natural cynicism that occurs when the exuberance of youth gives way to the hardness of maturity. He'd been horribly blind and wrong, and Dawn was suffering for it. His confidence had been horribly shaken by her confessions in that southern hospital. He knew he had yet to fully deal with the emotional ramifications of her disclosure. So he threw himself into the simpler task of dealing with Dawn's lost memories; it was a far less gruesome task than dealing with her damaged self-worth. Besides, she'd be home soon. They'd go home to England and Buffy could deal with it all. That was what she did; she handled the children. He made them laugh and spoiled them all silly, it was what he did. Surely that was an equitable division of labor? The sound of her voice pulled him out of his stupor. "Spike, I'm done here. You wanna say something to Mom before we go?" she asked him.

He thought for a moment and nodded. One hand slunk into his pocket and he flipped her the car keys. "Here, go start 'er up and wait for me. I'll just be a moment." He heard her soft footfalls on the grass moving away from him. Gingerly he walked through the cemetery over to the proper headstone, careful to avoid the plots in his path. It was funny how unnatural it felt to be here now. He'd spent a good many decades among the dead, had lived in a crypt and slept on a sarcophagus only a few years earlier. Yet as he moved through the grass, he felt oddly disconnected from his surroundings, out of kilter in the world. The warmth of daylight claimed him now, and the long years of night were a painful ugliness he tried not to dwell on. He stooped at Joyce's headstone and contemplated the worn granite, remembering the peace that he used to feel coming here to be with her, to talk with her and tell her his tales. He closed his eyes in the warm morning sunlight, trying to recapture that feeling, trying to find the place inside him from which to begin his conversation. "'ello, lovely. We all miss you, we do. Especially your youngest."

"Daddy!"

He turned towards the unexpected sound of Joycie's voice, as she threw herself at his knees in a hug.

"Well now. This is a surprise," he began. His gaze traveled upward to meet his wife, walking up to him. She looked tired and angry. Wills slumbered in the carrier on her arm. "But a good one." He regarded her with questioning eyes, keeping his voice low and level. "I thought we agreed you would stay home and wait to hear from me."

She sighed and rolled her eyes impatiently. "No. YOU agreed. And I've never been any good at doing what I'm told."

He grinned as he approached her, taking her into his arms in a welcome embrace. "No, that you aren't." He kissed the top of her head, and lifted the baby carrier off her shoulder.

She pulled away, biting her lip as she asked him. "How is Dawn?"

He saw the car coming up along the side road, and took his wife's hand.

"Why don't you come ask her," he answered.