Double Vision, a buffy: the vampire slayer fanfic

Title: Double Vision

Date completed: February 20th, 2002

Authouress: Sing to Angels (Singtoangels@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13 (wee bit o' cussin' and dyin')

Big thanks to: Jonathan, Mieke, Nick, and Victoria. The team of betas who looked this over.

Authour's notes: I started writing this directly after Wrecked, during that terrible hiatus we had with no new episodes for over a month. I meant to have this done before January. But things got hinky in RL, so you are getting it now. :)

This is the first in series. There will be more. I know it is kind of hanging at the end. Spike's story will be next. So don't jump me okies?

I know that the 'wrongness' of Buffy was explained as being a fluke. However, I still like this, much more dramatic, explanation. I had heard spoilers about the wrongness being linked to Spike, so I created. There is also another note at the end of the story explaining any historical bits I took liberties with. If you are a history buff (different from a Buffy historian) then you will enjoy this and be frustrated at the same time. So before you yell, read.

Feedback: Yes please! Always lovin' the constructive criticism; makes the brain get more wrinkly with knowledge.

Buffy stretched out sore legs and craned her neck around, sleepily taking in the

surroundings. She was still in her bedroom, and for a moment, Buffy couldn't understand why there was garlic and crosses hanging from the windows. Then she remembered and a shiver ran through her small frame. Spike. He never came last night.

Why didn't he show up? Buffy rubbed her neck a little more and tried to jump out of bed but her legs were too stiff, so instead she tentatively put one deceptively dainty foot over the floor and pressed it down lightly, testing her weight. Making her way downstairs to the kitchen, Buffy saw that Willow's door was open and the bed empty.

Willow sat at the bar in the kitchen, sipping on a bottle of water. Bags hung from green eyes and her skin was clammy with sweat.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Willow asked Buffy in a watery voice that cracked and broke, vocally telling the story of her restless night.

Buffy just nodded and headed over to the fridge for a glass of orange juice. 'Why didn't he show up last night?' Buffy asked herself silently. She thought that he would come to her window, that he wouldn't be able to stay away, that he was lying to her last night. Yet he didn't, Spike was serious this time and she really would have to seek him out. But she wouldn't do it, not ever. Not for Dawn, not for any of the Scoobies, and certainly not for herself. She didn't need his help and never did.

Still, Buffy almost felt something akin to…abandonment? No, because this was only Spike; a soulless demon who happened to think that he was in love with her. If Buffy was true to herself though, she would realise that Spike was there for her more often than anyone else was; even her friends. And especially more than Giles, who left her here on the Hellmouth to fight the good fight, regardless of her feelings on the matter.

However, the thing was that she didn't really have any feelings on the matter. Buffy

didn't have any feelings on anything, and she hadn't since she came back. There had been no compassion last night for Willow when she broke down in tears, no anger towards her

either for putting Dawn in danger. But Buffy knew that she should have felt those things,

so she displayed them, although they weren't in her heart. Just like Spike wasn't in her heart

now, even though he was before she…left. Ok, not going there.

There was nothing, nothing but an empty void stretching out in ever widening circles

towards infinity. Was this it? Was it going to be like this for the rest of her newly given life?

Suddenly the years of vacuity that swam before Buffy's eyes was too much to handle and she let the glass of juice slip from her grasp to crash on the floor with a muffled vibration that didn't register in ears, who felt suddenly full of cotton. Willow's concerned face hovered somewhere above and the words of assurance that issued from her lips sounded more hollow than usual. Something was pressing, keeping Buffy from jumping up and saying that she was fine. It grew in size, though she couldn't see it, the presence was overwhelming and close; cold breath tickled her ear and sharp, bony fingers dug into her shoulders. Buffy let her eyes close and released her consciousness to the presence.

*****

Willow stared down at Buffy's rapidly cooling form; her chest was still and the pulse

points didn't flicker with life. Standing fixed in shock, Willow let her arms flop

motionlessly by her side.

"Buffy? Buffy?" Her voice got terribly quiet and still, numb. "Buff?"

*****

Willow ran, she didn't know where she was going, but she ran. She ran as if her life

depended on it until she saw the Magic Box looming before her, a safe haven.

Carelessly, Willow flung the door open, not registering the bell which tinkled above.

Then Anya was there, holding Willow upright as she breathlessly spilled out her story. Of

how Buffy had fallen in the kitchen and wouldn't wake up, how she left Buffy there on the

floor because she couldn't pick her up and had been afraid to call the paramedics.

Shaking as a tree shakes in the first blows of winter, Willow stood in the entrance as

Anya closed the store and escorted her back to Rivello Drive.

*****

Darkness fell and with it, Spike's hope. He had lain awake, all day, waiting for his

Slayer to find him, to say that she needed him and clasp him close to her breast, profess her

love for him. What a load of gobshite that was; poofy, romantic dreams which would

never come true.

Still, Spike wondered why she hadn't shown up. Maybe she was still waiting for him to

make the first move. Which he wouldn't do, Spike muttered in his head. He made a promise to himself after all. Yet it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on the stupid bint, just to make sure she was safe and all. That was the only reason, the only reason. Singing this mantra to himself, Spike donned his duster and strode out into the twilight, heading for Rivello Drive.

*****

The house was quiet, but a dim light remained on in the living room. Peaking through a

window, Spike saw a sight that reminded him faintly of the 'Death of Socrates'. Except

for the fact that Socrates was not giving one last morsel of wisdom to the masses with a goblet of hemlock in one hand. Socrates had already downed the draught and lay unmoving on the bier.

Golden hair fanned around her face, as Buffy laid prone on the sofa, her friends weeping

with head in hands around her. Maybe it was Snow White he was thinking of... Spike's

undead heart lurched painfully in his chest as he took in the scene before him. Was she

dead once more? A single, crystal tear fell from sightless eyes as Spike drifted up the

front steps, letting his feet guide him heavily into the living room.

The Scoobies barely spared a glance for Spike as he softly approached the Slayer. His

enemy, his friend, his lover, his love, lay still and unmoving. Buffy's chest did not rise or

fall with the breath of life, but as Spike laid his pale hand upon her still tender flesh, he

could feel the blood moving within her veins. Grasping her body, Spike pulled it up and

laid his ear against her chest, listening for the very faint beat of her heart.

"What the hell are you doing?" Xander shouted as he jumped up from the chair he was

in and lunged at Spike. Still holding Buffy in his arms, Spike dodged him and sat on the

couch with her form cradled protectively on his lap.

"She's still alive, you twit!" Spike hissed at him. Xander sat back down and grasped

Anya's cold hand for strength.

"What do you mean she's still alive? She isn't breathing, and her heart is-is...."

"Beating. Faintly, but it is there." Spike finished for him.

"B-but how? I mean, we checked her pulse and-and held a mirror up to her mouth and

there was no foggy stuff on it. And she is-she's c-cold." Willow looked confusedly

at the others. Xander held Anya on his lap, unconsciously mimicking Spike.

Dawn had apparently forgotten her anger at Willow because they sat in the corner

clinging to each other out of need for comfort. "A-and we couldn't call 911, just in case.

They would remember her at the hospital...being that she is dead and all. Well, a-according to them anyway."

Spike merely sat there, tears streaming as he rocked Buffy back and forth. God in

Heaven! He thought that she was lost once again. But then again, what was wrong with

her? Listening to the slow hum of blood singing in her veins, Spike started to get a faint

idea of what might have happened. Well, maybe not what happened, but at least it was a

start, maybe. However, that theory would need to be explored further first and, as much

as he didn't want to ask, he was going to need Willow's help with this.

"Red, did she...mention anything about me recently?" Spike was guessing that she never

had because the Whelp didn't try to stake him today as he turned round restlessly in the

crypt.

Willow shook her head. "N-no, she didn't say anything. But I did find a whole bunch of

garlic and crosses in her room. On the windows and stuff."

Unexpectedly, Spike let out a stiff laugh and quietly addressed the comatose Slayer.

"Afraid of me are you, pet? Or are you more afraid of yourself?"

"What are you talking about, Spike?" Dawn spoke for the first time and looked at Spike

closely. "What's going on?"

Spike inhaled an unnecessary breath and blew it out forcefully.

"She punched me the other night, and when I punched her back, the chip didn't fry my

noggin like it usually does." He put one finger to his temple.

Anya fell on the floor as Xander jumped up and broke a chair in half.

"You son of a bitch! I knew we never should have let you help us!" Xander strode

towards the defenceless vampire with the wooden leg of the chair raised in one hand.

"Xander, stop!" Willow jumped off of the floor and pointed one finger at him. Her eyes

flashed briefly as Xander flew back several feet and landed in the chair where he'd been

sitting in previously, but was now occupied by a disgruntled Anya.Willow's eyes got very

round as she took in what had just happened. Shakily, she sat back on the floor Indian style.

"Just listen to him for a minute before you try and dust him! If he wanted to kill us, he

would have done it already. We are all a- a little hyped up right now. Let's just take a chill

and hash this out."

"Right. Thanks Red."

Willow nodded and leaned up against the wall, stretching her legs out in front.

"Now, before the Harris boy interrupted... I was going to say that she is the only one I

can harm. Other than demons and undead of course."

"Is that why Buffy put up all of the vampire repellent in her room?"

"Uh...I don't know. She knows that I won't hurt her. Maybe she had another reason."

"Yeah sure, like she had any other vampire to be afraid of...right?" Xander glanced

at the others uncertainly .

"We had a little..." Spike tried to stifle a mischievous smirk, "a little misunderstanding

the other night. She might have thought I was looking for us to go for round two."

"Oh, well that makes sense, I guess." Willow furrowed her brow in thought.

"But wait a minute, how can you hurt Buffy without going all ah ah the pain and stuff?"

Dawn piped up, ignoring the looks her elders threw in her direction. She felt like jumping up and doing back flips ever since Spike told them that her sister wasn't dead, again.

Spike shrugged. "I don't know, but I have a feeling that she in'nt exactly... human

anymore. She isn't a vampire, and I'm pretty damn sure she ain't no angel. Other than

that, I'm at a loss."

The Scoobies all looked puzzled and worried, wondering what had happened to their

friend.

"You know, I think that this...coma or whatever she's in has something to do with Buff

being...less than her usual perfectly human self."

Spike clapped mockingly. "Give the boy a bloody point for that one."

Xander looked at the blonde vampire with murder in his gaze.

"All right guys, enough of the testosterone wars. Let's just call Giles and see if he has

any idea of how we can fix this."

"I don't think the Watcher is going to be able to help much, Red. I have a feelin' that you

are going to have to get the Slayer out of this mess yourself."

Willow's eyes rounded. "M-me? Why me? I mean, I've given up all of the- the magickie

stuff. I'm through with it. I am."

Spike gazed her down with a sceptical eye. "You givin' up your magicks would be like

me givin' up blood. You need it to live."

Willow looked down at her hands, which were clasped together so tightly that the

knuckles were turning white. "But I can't do it anymore! It's too much for me to handle. I-I can't

control it. It's like...like a fire in my blood. I have to do spells and everything or I feel like

my head will pop off."

"Then learn how to control it. I'll even help if you want me too."

Willow looked up at Spike with a surprised expression. "You would do that for me?"

Spike nodded.

"But you don't even know how to do magick! How could you help me?"

Spike smiled slightly. "After bein' part of the Big Bad for this long, you think I don't

know somethin' about casting spells and what all?"

Willow grinned and then donned her resolve face. "Yeah I guess so. Okay. Then you can

help me get this-this stuff under control. Right? Right."

"That a girl, Red. Show 'em your stone face."

"Yeah, yeah I will. I can do this. It'll be a piece of cake."

*****

"Willow, are you going to pay for this stuff? Because the credit account thing went out

the window when Giles left. That was a stupid way to do business. I mean, how do you

make money by letting people get things for free? I'm sick of writing it all off as...Oh

wait, never mind. I can charge you interest! How does twenty percent sound to you?"

"A little steep, Ahn. How about you charge her like, twelve or something?"

"Honey, how do you expect me to make any money when I let Willow run off with half of

the most expensive items in the store and not pay for them?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Why don't we go and count some money? Will that make you

feel better?"

Anya clapped her hands together like a child. "Oh yes! Let's go do that, it always makes

me happy. Can we roll around in it later too? However, I don't want to have sex in it this

time. It made the money all sticky before."

Xander's eyes darted around to see if any of the others had heard, apparently they hadn't

because they were still whispering among themselves about the spell components they

needed. "Yes. We can do that later. Let's just...go that way. Right now."

Anya allowed Xander to lead her towards the back while Willow continued to look for

the newt eyes she needed.

"You know, remind me never to help Anya with customers again. I really don't want to

touch that money now."

Dawn nodded as she continued the hunt.

"Ooh! Got it! A big jar of icky eyes. Are these the ones?"

Dawn held up the jar for Willow's perusal. "No, those are salamander eyes, but it'll

work. I need two of them."

"Well here you go."

Willow rolled her eyes and opened the jar. Taking out two of the eyes she put them in a

plastic bag.

"Ok, I think that is it. Now we just need to go back to the house and do the spell. Come

on Xander, I've got it. Let's go."Willow shouted out to the lovebirds in the back.

"Uh, we'll catch up to you later, Will." Came the muffled reply from the back room.

"Ok, but don't be too long."

"Hehe, long..."

"Shut up, Ahn. Ok, Will. Bye."

Willow shook her head as Dawn rolled her eyes and they exited the shop, running back

to the house where Spike was waiting with Buffy.

*****

"I don't know why I even help you. All you do is put me down; make me feel like a big

pile of shit in the middle of the road. I mean, I have feelin's too you know. I'm not just

some...some creature what you can do with as you please. Fuck me and leave me like I am

just a machine. Well... I have feelin's, and I'll keep sayin' that until you hear me. Cos it's

true. I do, you know, love you, Slayer. What thanks do I get for that? Wham, bam, and not

even a 'thank you' after the fact. Just 'oh that was a freak show and it'll never happen

again'. You're soddin' well right it won't happen again! Cos I'm through you see. I'm

done with all of your holier than thou shit. Someday you'll be sorry that you did what you

have to me. I'm a killer, and I should kill you. Just take your neck like this and wring it

like a bloody chicken!"

Spike looked down at his hands, which were wrapped around Buffy's throat and he

stopped squeezing. The long, pale fingers of his right hand started to caress the side of

her expressionless face.

"Yet I won't. I can't. You're in my system as I'm in yours. I crave you like you crave me.

And bloody hell, woman, why can't I get you out of my head?! I dream of you, every

night. When we...when we had that wall bangin' good time the other night, I thought it

was a dream. I didn't want to wake up, but I did. So did you.

I love you, but you won't let yourself think about what might be between us; if we lay

down our arms and stopped the words. I know the fight is in your blood. It's in mine too.

We live for - the dance - the seduction of that perfect rhythm when you can

free yourself from all emotion and the emotion becomes raw and wanting to come back.

Then you have to dance again.

Dancing with you, it's all fire and hot blood, and you like it too, I know you do. I can

smell it every time we meet; the warm salt on your skin and the burning passion in your

eyes, the lust between your thighs. When you stake a nasty, I almost wish it were me

sometimes." He leaned towards her mouth, the breath from speaking so close making the

hair swirl around her face with every word.

"Just to be the dust on your sweater and closer to your heart."

Spike looked down at Buffy's lips. They were so cold and almost blue, tinged with

death as she seemed. Maybe the Sleeping Slayer would wake with a kiss and suddenly he

couldn't help himself. He had to feel those pale, lifeless lips again. Pressing them gently

with his own, she still did not move. He kissed her again, harder and more urgently this

time.

"Why won't you wake up? Come back, to all of us who love you. You can't die again,

Slayer! Fight it! Fight this, damn you!" Spike clutched her shoulders with white knuckles

and shook Buffy slightly.

"Giving up would be easy, and you've never done things that way." Spike pulled Buffy

to him and stroked her hair with trembling hands. "Why won't you live for me?" He

whispered against her face, tears falling on her shoulder.

*****

The sight that greeted Willow's eyes when she and Dawn walked through the door

was one of tenderness. Spike had Buffy pulled up against his chest as he slept. You could

see the tear tracks on his pale, chiselled cheeks and the desperation he felt even in sleep

was almost palpable in the air around them. He clung to her with a fierce protectiveness

and Willow wondered why Buffy had tried to keep him away last night. Putting one

finger to her lips, Willow gestured for Dawn to be quiet as they tiptoed into the kitchen to

prepare for the spell.

"You know, Buffy is stupid. I mean, everybody can see how much Spike

loves her. Besides, he is like, a real cutie pie. Even if he is all undead and stuff." Dawn

said as she dropped the bag of magick supplies on the counter and went to get a glass of

milk.

"Yeah, but you gotta remember her other relationships too, Dawnie. I mean, the whole

Angel thing? Do you think she would want to get involved with another vampire after

that mess? Spike tried to kill us about, a zillion times, too."

"I know, but Spike isn't Angel. He is totally different! It's not like he is going to wake

up one day and go all cuckoo evil like Angel did."

Willow looked thoughtful. "I guess you're right. Still, I mean, he is a vampire and she is

a slayer. Kinda like a guard dating a prisoner in jail. Two totally unmixy things."

"He loves her sooo much, though. That has to count for something right? And so what if

Spike is a vampire? He isn't evil or anything, and he is kinda like a Scooby now. He's

helped us for so long. Maybe we can find a way for him to not be a vampire anymore."

"Yeah, maybe Dawn. But have you ever thought that he might like being a vampire?"

Dawn looked down at her glass of milk, drops of condensation forming quickly on the

sides of it. "Guess I didn't think about that. I just wish I could help Spike. He seems so

lonely and sad."

"Well, I could make him not love her anymore...But I don't want to do that, it would be

kinda cruel. Besides, I'm only going to use my magick for necessary things now."

"Like conjuring up some grub? I'm starving and everyone kinda forgot to do the

grocery shopping this week. Besides, I want some pizza."

Willow looked at Dawn. She seemed to have forgiven her for the other night, at least she

had set it aside. Maybe showing her that magick could be a good thing would help.

Willow smiled.

"Sure. No problem, kiddo. That would be of the good, and the necessary too. What do

you want on it?"

"Ooh, cheese and pepperoni...and more cheese, lots of cheese. Cheese is a good thing."

"Okay, here goes."

Willow raised her hand up to create a steaming pizza pie, but Dawn stopped her hand.

"Wait. Can you make some buffalo wings for Spike? It might cheer him up."

Willow smiled in reply and waved her hand across the kitchen counter. After the pink

light cleared, a banquet of food was spread across the counter.

"Whoa, that is so cool. It's like pizza anytime! And wings, and burgers, and....geez

Willow. How many people are we feeding?"

"It's always good to have extra. Just in case Xander and Anya are hungry too. Which

I'm sure they will be after they...get back. You know, Buffy will probably be starving

after we wake her up."

"I guess you're right. She's always kinda piggy anyway, Mr. Gordo must have rubbed off majorly. I'm going to take this pizza and these wings in the living room, maybe Spike will be awake now."

"Yeah, and I'm going to take this big boy in there and have a very intimate conversation

with him."

"Who?"

Willow grinned. "This box of Moo Goo Gai Pan."

"Do you ever wonder if the food you eat is still alive and it's like, screaming while you

eat it? Only you can't hear it cause you aren't food and only other food can hear it scream

and all the veggies lay there and wait to be eaten too and they can't run away cause they

don't have legs?"

Willow looked at the box of Moo Goo Gai Pan and looked back at Dawn. She dropped

the box back on the counter.

"You know, I don't think I'm very hungry now."

"Oh come on, I don't think that food really does that. Still, wouldn't it be neat? I mean

we eat it and its screaming and screaming and then it's quiet cause it's in my happy

tummy."

"Dawn."

"What?"

"Shut up please. Or I'll never eat again."

*****

"Do you think that we can wake him up now? I'm really getting sick of watching him

hold her like that. If she wakes up, she'll punch me for not getting him off her."

"Xander honey, calm down. We can wake him up later. Right now, we need to get ready

for the spell."

"Shouldn't he have woken up by now? We've been anything but quiet, and look, wings. I

know he smells them." Dawn sat on the floor watching tv, but she looked worried as she

watched Spike sleep. Getting up, she announced to them her intentions. "I'm going to get

something to drink."

"Ooh wings. I think I'll have a couple of those. He won't even notice."

Anya slapped Xander's hand and he pulled it back from the plate.

"Hey! What'd you do that for? I happen to like chicken wings."

"Yes, but I don't. Every time you eat those things my lips swell up and I look like

someone punched me in the mouth; very unattractive. So you can't eat them."

Xander rubbed his hand and grumbled to himself as he got out of the chair.

"Come on, bleached wonder. Get up so we can do this spell." He tapped Spike on the

shoulder but the vampire didn't move. So he shook Spike a little harder, shaking his arm.

"Hey, I said wake up!" Another shake of the shoulders and Spike's head lolled back on

his shoulders and Xander could see a gleam of white between his eyelids. Xander jumped

back.

"Holy mother of Zeus! I think Spike's dead....Can we celebrate now or later?"

"What? Spike's not dead. Well, he's undead, but he isn't all dusty and if he is, Buffy is

going to be sooo pissed cause he dusted on her couch." Dawn joked as she came from the

kitchen holding a glass of soda. However, when she saw Spike she stopped cold.

"What did you do to him?"

"Whoa." Xander backed up at Dawn's accusing stare. "I didn't do anything. I was just

trying to wake him up so we could do the spell and he wouldn't wake up."

"Oh he's just a deep sleeper. You have to tap his shoulder or something. He'll wake up."

Dawn went over to the couch and splashed some of her soda in his face with her

fingertips. "Come on Spike, wake up. It's spell time." Dawn frowned. "Why isn't he

waking up now?"

"I don't know. Spike! Hey! Wake up!" Xander yelled into his face. "Hmmn...maybe I

should slap him, then he'd wake up."

Before Dawn could do anything, Xander had hauled back and slapped Spike open-

palmed directly in the face. This had no effect other than making Spike's head snap to the

side with the force of the blow. Xander was starting to get very worried, making him

anxious and jumpy.

"Xander! Why did you do that?" Dawn stopped and looked at Spike. He still hadn't

moved. "What's going on around here? Why isn't he getting up?" Dawn had tears in her

eyes as she gazed perplexed at her sister and best friend. She shook Spike by the

shoulders. This wasn't happening, it just wasn't. Her sister was in a coma, and now Spike. It was all hitting her too hard in one night. She left her previous mood of happiness behind and clung to anger to keep herself sane.

"Spike, wake up. Wake up! Wake up wake up wake up!" Now Spike's head was jerking

back and forth as Dawn shook him more forcefully. "Wake up!" Dawn backhanded

him across the cheek and his head fell to the other side. He lay unmoving, arms still

curled around Buffy; stiff and cold. Dawn jumped up and down in anger, tears in her

eyes. "Why won't you wake up?"

She started slapping him again, not caring about how everyone was staring at her.

Willow finally stood up and held Dawn's arms next to her body in a firm grip, shushing

her as she sobbed. 'This is getting ridiculous', Willow thought to herself as she tried

to calm the flailing girl.

"I think we should start the spell now. We'll just have to do it with the three of us."

"No." Dawn looked up from Willow's shoulder. "I'm helping you."

"Dawnie, you're upset. Besides, you should go to bed, there's school tomorrow."

"I'm not going to school until Buffy is back and Spike wakes up." She released herself

from Willow's grasp and crossed her arms stubbornly.

Willow glanced over her shoulder at Anya and Xander on the couch. They shrugged, so

she agreed. "Ok. You can skip school tomorrow. But only because this is important stuff

and the more help we have the better."

*****

Willow took a deep breath and regarded the small group sitting around her. They

were looking at her, waiting for some sort of guidance but she had none to give. Her body

still ached from the after effects of Rack's dark magick and she felt a chill run up her

spine at the thought of doing more magick. Magick. Life's all-giving blood for her. It ran

through her like electricity, tingling and aching with the need for release. Better than ice

cream, sex, or chocolate.

Letting go of that one, deep breath, Willow pushed back her sleeves and lit the smudge

stick on one of the softly glowing candles before her. The scent of sage filled the air and

she chanted.

*Isis,

Goddess of light and darkness,

Goddess eternal and everlasting magick,

We crave your favour.

Joining hands and hearts,

Ready to receive your wisdom.*

Willow held out her hands to the people around her and all complied; trustingly setting

their palms within each others. As the last hand touched Willow's, a column of light

appeared in the middle of the circle. A voice spoke.

"Who seeks my wisdom?"

In an expression stronger than her body, Willow replied.

"I seek your wisdom, Mother."

"What do you wish to know, Mau-Shauri."

Willow smiled at the use of the nickname; a great honour from the Goddess.

"My friend... your Beloved consented to give me the power to raise her from death.

However, she has come back wrong. We want to fix it, make her human again."

Isis seemed to consider this a moment before giving her advice.

"Your friend is human yet incomplete. The spell was interrupted before it was finished.

You must recreate the spell and recite the last four lines, calling forth the Dark Spirit."

"Dark Spirit, Mother?"

"Yes, the Dark Spirit. The one which you destroyed in your ignorance."

"Do you mean the demon we destroyed?"

"It was not a demon. It was the earthbound soul of your loved one."

"Earthbound soul?"

"Yes, there are two souls within a body; that which is earthbound and that which is a

part of the universe. To breathe life into her body, you called a part of the universe to

come and make her heart beat and her blood flow. However, her earthbound soul was

separated because the spell wasn't complete. The other part of her heart is missing, cut

in two, and she can no longer survive without it. She can not feel love, nor anger,

compassion or any other emotion which would make her what you would call human

until it is restored. When returned, she shall be almost complete."

"Almost, Mother?" Willow could almost feel Isis smiling in amusement.

"Yes, she has yet to bind the pieces with the proper mortar. Yet she must discover that

for herself. Is there anything else you wish to know, little kitten?"

"Only one more, Mother. I have no Urn of Osiris. The last one on this earth was

smashed into pieces."

"Ah. Very well, young one. Use this with His blessing."

A very old, plain canopic jar made of adobe appeared in the circle. Willow's eyes

widened as she reali1sed that this must be a canopic jar from Osiris; one which had

contained a piece of His body. Willow bowed her head in gratitude.

"Thank you, Mother."

"One more thing, child. Use balance in all you do and you shall fulfil your destiny.

I shall send someone to guide your way. I must leave now, blessings upon you."

Willow felt cold as Isis' presence among them dissipated. Sighing, she pulled her hand

out of Dawn's sweaty grip.

"So that's it? You just have to repeat the last four lines of the spell you used to bring

Buffy back?"

Willow glanced at Dawn out of weary eyes. "Yep, that's it. Not as easy as it sounds

though. However, we can do it I think. I just need to rest first."

"Can we do the spell first thing in the morning?"

"I don't know Dawnie. We have to see how I feel first."

Dawn looked down, somewhat disappointed.

"Ok, I guess I can wait."

*****

Willow grumbled to herself as she stomped down the stairs. It was too early in the morning for people to be knocking on the front door. Yawning, she opened the door and was greeted by someone that was too damn cheerful for 6:30 in the morning.

Rubbing her eyes with the floppy sleeve of her pyjamas, Willow addressed the chipper woman on the porch.

"Who are you?" she asked drowsily; unable to clear her eyes completely of the sleep that still tainted them.

"The High Priestess called me. She said that you needed help with a spell."

"Who are you?" Willow struggled out in a sleep creaky voice.

"I'm the Maga."

"Maga? Oh! The Maga! Duh." Willow smacked her forehead lightly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't

expecting you to be here this early. I guess the Goddess sent you huh?"

"No, I'm from the government. I am here to help you."

Willow stared at her, startled.

"It was a joke?"

"Oh, oh yeah, jokes...I remember those. Sorry, I had a long night. Come in."

The Maga nodded and looked around as she entered. A faint jingling noise accompanied

her ingress and Willow looked for the source, discovering that it came from the multitude

of silver pendants and talismans about the Wiccan's neck.

"So, where should I set up camp?"

"Pretty." Willow admired, pointing to a silver disk with the goddess Artemis on it. The

Maga looked down where she had indicated and picked it up between two tapered

fingers.

"Huh? Oh, thanks. I've always liked it. Had it a really long time."

Willow nodded in appreciation. "Would you like a drink or something, Maga? We've

got some orange juice a-and milk but I wouldn't suggest you drink it though, its kinda

old."

"Please call me Shauri. Um, do you have any tea?"

"Ok, sure, we've got lots of tea. Giles left it here when he went to England. All kinds of

fancy stuff. I think I feel like some myself."

The Maga murmured her agreement and followed Willow into the kitchen. She had a

feeling that it was going to be a long day from the look of fatigue on the other witch's

face. Maybe some tea would calm her jittery nerves.

*****

"This is the Slayer? She looks like a twig. But she has to be stronger

than she looks. I think anybody would have to be stronger than she looks."

Shauri took in the two bodies, laid out side by side in the basement on a blanket covered pallet. They both looked so dead, well, technically the vampire was dead. But the girl... she seemed as

if all life had left her. And it wasn't only the slowness of her heartbeat and breathing; it

was her aura. She had been like this for a long, long time; many years even. The stamp of

human emotion had not left a mark, she was cold like a statue in the cemetery. Then as an after thought, the Maga wondered why they were in the basement. She decided not to ask.

"Oh yeah, Buff is a strong chica alright. She whipped Glory's butt with a big troll hammer a

few months back."

"Glory?"

"Glorificus, the Hell Goddess who was trying to get back to her own dimension by

killing Dawn and unleashing hell on Earth."

"Oh," the Maga looked down at the comatose Slayer. "Well, she has been through a lot

then. Very strong to have defeated Glorificus. Somebody had to do it, I'm just sorry it

had to be her.... Is that when she died? Battling the Hell Goddess?"

Willow nodded, "Yeah, that was-" she stopped to swallow before continuing. "That was

the worst night of my life, all of our lives. It was like the world stopped and let us off

before it started spinning again. We were lost without Buffy, and we were selfish to bring

her back to this hell. She was in Heaven and at peace. I snatched her away from that like

a greedy child. Now she's suffering because I screwed up, again. But I'm going to fix it

this time, and I won't let her get hurt again. I promised myself that I wouldn't hurt her

again."

"Shh... calm down. We'll fix this, don't worry."

*****

Willow struggled to breathe as she spoke the last word of the spell, completing it. A

shaft of red light engulfed her as she opened black eyes to the sky above. The snake in

front of Willow blurred as it made it's way over to Buffy's prone form. Sliding into her

mouth, the snake made it's way down Buffy's throat. She choked and gagged for a

moment, eyes wide. Then, relaxing, Buffy slipped into a peaceful sleep. Her chest rising

and falling with deep, even breaths.

"What now, Shauri?" Xander asked as he supported his drained friend with strong, bronzed arms.

"I don't know, we just have to wait."

*****

Buffy could see a figure in the distance. White and wispy, like smoke, it came towards her

with a grace she could only dream about. When it was closer, she started to get a queasy

feeling; it was the demon she had killed after Willow brought her back. Backing up, Buffy

addressed the transparent form shakily.

"I killed you."

"You killed yourself." It whispered slowly, coming to a stop before her.

"No I-I didn't! I did it for Dawn and the world."

"You did it for yourself. You wanted peace, but now all you have is pain. And you inflict

pain on all those you should love. But you don't love, you don't feel a thing."

The spirit circled her and Buffy turned around and around so that she could keep it in

sight.

"And now I am here, to show you everything which has been lost. You must see your past before you live the future. Open to me."

Buffy stood there, wondering to herself what this thing wanted. But before she could

decide, it had her in a bruising grip. As Buffy opened her mouth to scream, the being

flowed into her mouth and all was darkness.

*****

1520 - Andes Mountains - Inca Empire

She was cold. God, it was freezing. It took almost a full minute for Buffy to realise her

odd position She was in a body, and yet outside of it at the same time; able to see what

was going on around her.

Inside of the small, teenage girl's body, she was numb from the freezing temperatures

and a feeling of unnatural warmness at the same time that made her stomach flutter and

her eyes see stars.

Suddenly, there was no outside perspective, only inside of this stranger's body. A dark

skinned priest in ornate headdress was placing small pieces of a green leaf inside of her

mouth and nostrils; chanting in a tongue that was strange but understandable.

Someone placed a beautiful blanket around her shoulders. Buffy was grateful because it

was so cold. Handing her a few little dolls, the priest made her hold them as he performed

his final chant. For a moment, Buffy could have sworn that Willow stood there instead of the priest, but she must have been mistaken. Several onlookers gazed at her, their features glacial

and unyielding. Buffy huddled further under the blanket, wrapping her hands around quaking knees. She felt fear for the first time since she had died. Real fear.

Dancing behind her, Buffy did not see the priest's unnaturally blackened eyes as he

raised a beautiful golden dagger, made of the purest metal and soft like her skin and still growing bones. With a swift downward thrust, blood poured out of the hole in her body, directly over her heart. She felt no more pain or cold, but the fear remained.

Lightening streaked down from the heavens to strike her body and she screamed inside

as the fire consumed her form and blackness claimed her mind.

*****

The dark faded and Buffy shook her head to clear it. Now all around her was white and

soft; light but no contrast.

"Did you learn anything, child?"

Was that voice in her head or from somewhere else?

"I don't know. I guess I learned that it really sucks to die. Oh wait, I already knew that."

"Mockery shall get you nowhere on this quest. Did you learn how to fear? Did the bile

rise in your throat? Did it make your hands clench and sweat? You shall learn more on

this journey. We have far to go yet."

*****

1645 - Morocco - The Berber Tribes

He came riding over the sand dunes on a blue-black horse, the sun glinting off of each

ebony curve as the flank muscles bunched and flexed under the strong, round thighs

which controlled every movement the animal made. Covered in thick, white robes, the

face beneath was a mystery. Only eyes. Green eyes that pierced her heart as Buffy

shielded her sight from the glare off of sweaty flanks. Spike was behind those eyes, she

could see him in there, breathing quietly as he came near. She wanted to shout that he would

burn and fry in the desert sun. But he didn't die, and he kept coming closer.

Buffy felt her consciousness dim and in its place was H'dda. All thoughts and memories

of this girl belonged to her, or she belonged to H'dda. Buffy wasn't quite sure how it all

worked out. Buffy was only an observer, she had no control over the body that she

inhabited. That of a very young girl, only twelve, maybe thirteen summers had she seen.

People judged one's age differently then. H'dda was a woman in the eyes of her tribe,

ready to bear children for a husband yet to chose her. H'dda wanted this man,

this stranger riding over the dunes. She could feel the longing throb deep inside of the

nubile body she inhabited; the ache in her liver. An ancient pull which drowned the small

voice of warning that flared in H'dda's head.

H'dda held her breath as he came closer, the smell of fresh herbs drifted to her nose. He

had purified himself recently, no doubt to make himself more appealing to the women at

the annual bride's fair. He didn't need the extra help, this man was the most…there were

no words for what he was. She prayed that perhaps he would chose her over the other

chattel offered this year.

H'dda was pure; in body and spirit. A vexing thought had never crossed her mind and

she had lived a free and happy existence before coming to Imilchil and the bride's fair.

Now it was misery; wondering who of these grizzled and battered old men was to be her

husband. Who would offer the proper price for her liver, the seat of all affection? She was too young to do more than suggest.

Hope sprang up in her slight frame, hope for a young husband who would love and

protect her; grow old with her. Not a stale, cold, and loveless union as that of her

older sister Bori. The choice had been...unwise on both parts.

The sun was glaring, and H'dda was glad for the heavy kohl which lined her eyes, shielding them from the brilliance of September skies. The silver coins dangling from her headdress shimmered in the light, throwing reflections on everything nearby. H'dda believed that the first man who came in contact with the radiance from her coins would be her husband. Allah would send her a true love and this would be the sign. Therefore, she kept to herself instead of joining the milling masses of people in search of new families. The globe was on the horizon and would set soon, leaving her alone for the evening and free to return to her beloved parents. It scared her, seeking a mate. Yes, she could divorce him if she wished, but it was without honour in her eyes. To make a commitment; that was something which must be observed if one wanted to keep their self-respect.

A noise sounded behind her and H'dda turned suddenly, casting small patches of luminescence on a stranger's eyes. H'dda's green orbs went round as saucers as she beheld a new arrival, the man on the horse.

Buffy's mind swam as she was hurled forward in time and out of the peaceful desert

scene, to a later part of H'dda's life. Once more Buffy was on the outside looking in as

she watched H'dda holding a child in one arm, her husband looked over the infant

lovingly as he brushed a kiss over her ear. Spike's cocky grin was there, but the anger

and sadness which he hid with those teasing smiles was not. There was only joy and pride

at the creation of new life. Mortal immortality; they would now live until the world

ended.

It gave Buffy a peaceful feeling as she contemplated the couple before her. She knew

that H'dda's life had come full circle, she felt that completion in her bones. Buffy could

remember how it felt; to enfold her son and husband in a warm orbit that didn't shut out

the world but embraced it.

Looking at the child, Buffy saw Xander's soul there. To think that he had once been her

son, and Spike's too. He would have a coronary if he ever knew that, Buffy thought to

herself with a tinge of humour. The crooked smile and burbling noises the babe made

gave her an odd sense of longing though, a desperate ache for something she could never

have. It wasn't fair, to be born a slayer who could never live a normal, happy life; like

these ancient nomads. Such a humble existence, with none of the luxuries which she took

for granted everyday. Yet there was a tranquillity to the fire burning dried camel dung,

the pit dug into the sand floor of an adobe hut, rushes strewn before the doorway, tang of

a desert breeze.

The family tableaux slowly faded as she returned to the colourless room without walls

where the phantom waited for her.

*****

"What did you discover there, girl?"

"That life isn't fair. That I should be able to have those things too but I don't because I

have to save this stupid world every time some psychopath gets a wild hair up their ass. Is

there a purpose to all this crap or are you just doing it for kicks?"

"Silence! Look upon your past so that you may live the future."

"You said that already. And what if I don't feel like living? What if I want to die so I can go back to the great beyond?"

"Is that what you truly desire?"

Buffy thought about it for a moment before answering. "No, I guess not. Not anymore

anyway, I've kinda found some reasons to go on living. Besides, if I died who would

look after Dawn?"

"The same one who looked after her while you were dead."

"Who?"

"The beast who claims to love you."

"Beast? You mean Spike? He isn't a beast, he's a-a vampire."

"There is no difference; he is a beast, a monster, a creature, beneath you. Is that not what

you have told him countless times before?"

"Well, yeah. But I didn't really mean it."

"So you admit it then."

"Admit what! Stop beating around the bush and just say what you mean."

"You shall see."

*****

1816 - Geneva, Switzerland - Villa Diodati

Once again, Buffy came to with that strange sense of double perception. She saw

herself as a girl, curvy of form and only about eighteen years of age, though she looked

younger because of slanted elfin features.

Bright blue eyes peeped out from underneath the long, dark hair surrounding her face.

The nose was pert, but not overly so, and thin; shadowing as it did the full, well-

shaped lips beneath and complementing the round and rosy cheeks.

Another girl, slightly older perhaps, hovered behind her. She had a long thin face with

very sad, blue eyes and dark blonde hair pulled in a serviceable chignon. Blue eyes

flickered green and fair hair turned red before recrudescing once more to a dirty blonde

with milky blue eyes.

Suddenly, the feeling of binary awareness left her and Buffy found herself within the

body of a stranger that was not strange. If she looked in the mirror before her, she could

see faint traces of the person she really was. The Slayer from Sunnydale. But that life was

shoved to the back of her mind as Buffy became the woman gazing in the mirror. Claire

Clairmont.

"Oh honestly, Claire! I don't know how you expect me to fix your hair if you refuse to

cooperate with me."

"What? Oh, my hair. Mary, I don't see why Percy can't afford at least one maid for us.

The servants in this country are notoriously cheap, not like they are back home."

"Yes, but you know that his family cut off his income after he left that Harriet woman."

"Hmmn, because of you, you mean. If he had run off for parts unknown by himself they

wouldn't have stirred a feather about it."

Mary pulled Claire's hair just a little harder than necessary as she tucked it into place.

"Ouch! Mary there is no need to pull all of my hair out just because yours is so spare."

Mary dropped Claire's hair in its half styled state and huffed out of the room.

Shrugging, Claire continued to coif her own hair. Not being able to see the back of her

head very well, the style left something to be desired, so she tied a scarf around her crown

in some semblance of a Turkish turban. Glancing once more in the mirror, Buffy's

conscious surfaced again for a brief instant before being subdued once more as merely an

observer.

Humming a tuneless melody quietly to herself, Claire slowly made her way towards the

library where she knew Percy was entertaining their 'host'. This man wasn't much of a

host though, considering he rented out the villa and his guests arrived before he did.

Percy wouldn't tell her who it was, so naturally Claire's curiosity was peaked.

Claire stopped humming as she neared the library and slowly lowered her eye to the

keyhole. Percy sat in a comfortable wingback chair next to the cold fireplace, conversing

with their host who she still couldn't see because his chair faced away from the door.

Frowning at this, Claire decided to be bold and interrupt the gentleman. Rapping softly

with oval nails, she waited for one of them to open the door.

A man with soft blue eyes unfolded the door from its hinge and Claire's heart stopped

as Buffy came to the fore. She could see him. Spike. He was there in those eyes, those

familiar eyes in which she had drown so many times before. The azure orbs which had

made her forget who she was and what she did every time his gaze fell in line with her

own.

"Buffy..." He whispered softly before fading away to become a stranger once again. Shaking his head a little, the man started. "Oh I'm sorry. Who might you be?"

Claire stared a moment before answering. "I-I'm Claire, and you're...you are..."

"Lord Byron, at your service milady." Byron dropped a rakish bow before her.

She stared, Claire had heard through the gossip mill that her brother- in-law knew Byron.

But considering that Percy and herself were so close and he hadn't told her, that hurt.

"I see. Lord Byron, you must be our host." Claire dropped a short curtsy. "So honoured

to meet you, Sir." She stated coldly. Byron himself was rather perplexed by her

disposition.

"Yes, well, I've been Lord Byron for many years and it still feels odd to be addressed as

such. We are all close chums here, so call me George if you will, for I detest convention."

Claire raised an eyebrow. 'Oh well,' she thought, 'there is no use being cross with him

because Percy vexed me. And he is very handsome.'

"Very well, George. May I ask if my dear brother is here with you? I have been looking

for him."

"Oh yes, he is here. We were all having a little chat since it is so gloomy outside. You

are quite welcome to add your thoughts to our discussion. We need a fresh perspective as

it is getting rather stuffy in here. And poor Doctor John is of no help." He turned his head

to entreat Percy who was standing in front of his chair.

"What say you man? Shall we throw some more fuel on the fire?"

"I'm agreeable to that."

George nodded and stepped out of the doorway so that Claire could enter. He walked

quickly and with much grace, even though he was lame as she had heard and he grasped a

silver topped cane with one hand.

"Doctor John?" Claire enquired.

"Yes, my personal physician. He is over there, taking what the Spanish call, a siesta."

"Ah, yes." She glanced in the direction of the sleeping man stuffed rather uncomfortably

on a small sofa next to the fire. His snores were soft and rhythmic, almost soothing as the

force of breath made longish dark hair float above his nose. It made him appear gentle

and boyish. Buffy, however, only saw Giles. Catching a nap on top of heavy, dusty

tomes. It made her smile inside, for only a moment.

Taking the chair offered her, Claire settled into it; arranging her skirts so that they

flattered a plump figure. Clasping tiny hands before her, she addressed the men.

"So gentlemen, what were you conversing about before I disturbed you?"

"Oh you didn't disturb us, Claire. We were only discussing some ideas George had for a

novel." Percy supplied.

"Ah, a novel. How...fascinating..." Inside Claire groaned, ready to be subjected to

another boring session about poems and fantasy. But further down, where Buffy resided,

she recognised that Xander of the past sat beside her in Percy's body.

"Perhaps, more a work of truth from my perspective..." George said slowly as Percy

gave him an odd look. "As I was saying before, Percy... the vampire superstition is still general

in Levant. Honest Tournefort himself tells a story about these 'Vroucolachas', as he calls

them. The Romaic term is 'Vardoulacha'. I recollect the whole family being terrified by

the scream of a child, which they imagined must proceed from such visitation. The

Greeks never mention the word without horror. I find though that 'Broucolokas' is a

legitimate Hellenic appellation. The moderns however, they use the word I mentioned.

The stories told in Hungary and Greece of these foul feeders are singular, and some of

them most incredibly attested."

Percy looked somewhat sceptical. "George, you will never be able to convince me that

these...vampires are real. I think that they are merely stories conjured by old women to

frighten children in their beds. No matter what you have heard."

"Percy, I-I've seen them myself." Byron spared a nervous glance at Claire. "At

Newstead, in the old crypts there. Some old cronies and I were exceedingly drunk one

evening, about a sennight ago, and I saw the creature. On the surface countenance he

appeared to be a man, but then...then his face stretched and contorted into something

outside of human before he attempted to attack me."

"There is your answer right there, George. You were drunk."

"Not that drunk! I didn't ingest absinthe and dance with faeries, I saw a vampire. There

are many things in this world which we have yet to grasp or see, this may be one of

them."

"So tell me then, what are their mysteries if you know them so well?" Percy smiled and

leaned a dimpled chin on folded hands, the air of patronisation was clear in his gaze.

"Percy, I have a personal dislike to vampires, and the little acquaintance I have with

them would by no means induce me to reveal their secrets... even if I knew them."

"You are afraid of them then?"

"By God, yes! You would be too if you had witnessed what I had."

"They must not be as fearsome as you claim, otherwise you would not be vital at this

moment to spin the tale. A tall one at that." Percy chortled as Byron seethed silently and

ready to burst into angry words at any moment. Claire gave a sympathetic look to

George, she knew all too well how much of a cynic her brother in law could be. She

glanced out the window and watched as the light rain pattered against the wavery old

glass. This house was venerable, well over two hundred years, and there was much

history to be found in even the simplest of things: the delicate marble columns, the ebony

wood which encased each pane of glass, terrazzo floors made from bright blue and green

stones. The trees outside were swaying with the wind which was picking up in intensity.

Soon there would be a full blown storm and they would all be stuck here, in this house.

No sunshine to be had so far this summer, only gloomy clouds and a turbulent, grey lake

which Claire could not wade in as she had wished to do. Before leaving England, she had

bought a rather shocking bathing costume and she would wear it before the season ended.

Mary often told her that she had more nerve than was good for her, might as well use it to

her advantage now.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Claire soothed, "why don't you take a break from your debate

so that we all may enjoy the day."

George pointed his pupils in the general direction of the window. "The day? My dear

girl, I think that you have lost your sight along with your hearing. The day is miserable."

Claire stood up. "No, it is a perfect day! Wild and untamed, like an animal in the forest.

Look at the lake." She pointed out the window towards the roiling, grey waters. "Let's go

bathing. It will be an adventure."

Percy met George's eyes across the room. When had he ever been known to turn down a

challenge? Be it handed out by God or man, he always took up the gauntlet. George

shrugged in acceptance at his silent question. Percy knew that as much as George tried to

maintain the image of an immoral debaucher and famous adventurer, he was still at heart,

a shy and bookish lad. Whereas for himself...let us just say that he was too much of a

wildcard to be completely trusted with the fairer sex. More rough and tough for his own

sorry image of himself.

"That sounds capital, Claire! I'm always up for a good adventure. We'll meet back here

in twenty minutes with our costumes. Have you yours, George?"

"I'm sure that I can come up with something." He mumbled towards the floor.

"Splendid!" Claire exclaimed as she ran out of the room and up the stairs.

Buffy somehow stayed behind in the library though, and she listened intently to the two

men. Watching them argue, she was reminded so much of the present day Spike and

Xander. Their body language and the way they glared towards each other at times, even

though they really were the closest thing that each other had to a male friend. But these

two were friends, and they still had major problems getting along. The roles seemed

reversed for some reason though, Xander-Percy was the adventuring type and Spike-

George was quieter and more sincere. But now it was time to listen up, it sounded as if

there might be a reason for her being here after all... vampires.

"I wasn't lying to you, Percy. I'm telling you the truth whether you believe it or not.

And we will finish this conversation later."

"Yes, yes. Calm yourself, George." Percy clapped him on one shoulder and wrapped an

arm around the shorter man, propelling him out of the library and into the foyer. "We'll

take a nice, relaxing swim in the lake and we can talk about this tonight. Perhaps Mary

will be able to give you another perspective on your...predicament."

George pursed his lips, not amused at being dismissed. "Yes, to be sure. Another

perspective..."

*****

Buffy stood in the room and watched as time fast forwarded itself and the three people

arrived back downstairs and then outside, then back inside, and faster as they busied

about doing other things. The sun set and rose several times before the world stopped so

suddenly that it made Buffy's stomach lurch. She had no clue though that she was about

to bear witness to an historic moment in literary history; from a first person perspective

as she was sucked back into Claire's body.

Everyone was gathered before the flames; the men drinking brandy from ornate snifters

while the women were attempting to read by the dim light the fireplace allowed. Standing

with one elbow on the mantle, Percy swirled the spirits around in his glass, obviously

bored. Coming to stand behind Mary, he put his chin on her shoulder and proceeded to

read the book which was contained in her small hands.

"Hullo, love."

"Hello." Mary patted his cheek fondly and continued to read.

"What are you looking at, dear?"

"A ghost story, it's very thrilling."

"A ghost story? Hmmn, I suppose it is that."

"Is what?"

"Thrilling, as you say."

"Oh." She turned a page.

"Put down that infernal book. Talk to me."

Mary lifted an eyebrow. "Bored, dear?"

"To tears."

She closed the book and held it between two delicately clasped hands. "What shall we

talk about?"

"Anything, as long as it amuses me."

Mary spared a glance to her sister, who shared her amusement at the unthinking

selfishness of their 'rowdy boy'.

"Why don't I amuse everyone?" Mary looked around the room and everyone nodded.

Doctor John, who was as far from Percy as possible, sulked in a corner reading a medical

book.

"Oh do please, I am about to tear my hair out in frustration from attempting to grasp this

dull thing." George threw the book he had been reading to the side as he concentrated on

Mary. Claire glanced out of a slanted eye toward the doctor; she could see him seething

with jealousy. She had been suspecting for a while that he had an unnatural

affection for George. To be honest, so did she, but Claire had no intention of announcing

that to anyone. And for herself, it would hardly be unnatural. He was a dashing and

romantic poet, famous in many circles for his wild ways. Claire was a girl who had been

forced to grow up quickly due to familial circumstances; she needed a hero. Doctor John

was George's friend, companion, and physician, not to mention a man. Claire believed

herself to be a thoroughly modern individual, but even she could not help the shudder

which coursed through her at this rather 'Grecian' love affair the good doctor seemed

obsessed with. Unrequited so it seemed, regardless of rumours to the contrary. Claire was

startled out of these thoughts by Mary's announcement.

"I shall tell you all a ghost story."

"Oh, not another one of those." Percy groaned as he flipped shoulder length chocolate

coloured hair over his shoulder and out of the way.

"Another?" Mary enquired.

"Yes, Georgie boy offered us a 'true tale of horror' a few days ago in the library."

Doctor John spoke up for the first time that evening, sending a glare towards Percy with his

dark, flickering eyes. "I for one would like to hear it, I'm sure that it is quite fascinating."

"Please George, let me hear it. The preternatural is so appealing."

Byron sat there, squirming uncomfortably in his chair and fingering one auburn curl

which had obviously been well worn in such situations before. "Well, I'm not sure that

you will find it as interesting as your book there. It was only a silly story."

"If you don't feel comfortable relating it to us, then you must not." Claire said, throwing

a comforting gaze his way. George relaxed as he thought for a minute.

"I have an idea. We shall each write a ghost story this night; recite our

ideas and then commit them to paper for publication. It shall be as a memoir of our nights

together in this parlour. To be taken with us so that we may always enjoy the solace

found in this very room." George beamed, it was so novel. A fresh sort of soiree which

all the companions found to be an enticing notion as was evident from their murmurs of

excitement.

"Who shall go first?"

Doctor John stood up.

"I will." He gave Byron a furtive glance, obviously this was a bid for his notice and

approval. After pacing for a few moments on coltish legs which were a remainder from

the teenage years he had only recently escaped from, John held up one finger in eureka.

"I have it. There was once a lady who lived in Devon. She beheld a hideous countenance,

similar to that of a bare skull stripped of flesh...."

Claire groaned inwardly, this was going to be a long night. Catching Byron's eye, she

smiled softly, jumping inside when he acknowledged it with a small twist of the lips. Yes,

it was going to be a very, very long night indeed.

*****

Buffy dulled as she flashed forward to later that night... She watched as George and

Claire were involved in a passionate kiss.

"George, you near take my breath away with your embraces." Claire murmured as she

pulled away and patted her clothing, trying to smooth the wrinkles from her dress.

Looking furtively behind her at Doctor John, once again snoring on the divan, with

glasses askew and a book holding drooping pages which fluttered to the floor. George smiled seductively as he turned her face back to his own. God, Buffy knew that look so well.

"Then let me take it all, love." He said as he made a move towards her once more.

Claire held up her trembling hand.

"No, we mustn't. Percy will be here any moment!"

George lifted the dimpled hand to his mouth and slowly, deliberately caressed her index

finger with his tongue. Claire let a soft gasp escape from her lips before she shook her

head and pulled the hand away.

"No, stop. If Percy found out..."

"If Percy found out there would be nothing he could do. You are an adult and free to do

what you will."

"Yes, but I don't want him to know, he will tell my sister and then there will be many

stern lectures. I should save us both the torment."

George chuckled softly. "Very well, I could always jump out the window as I did when I

was a boy."

Claire was perplexed. "Why did you jump out of the window?"

"To avoid the fairer sex when they came to call. I was an odd, shy thing you see. Far too

conscious of myself and sensitive to the slightest remark about my lameness."

"Then why do you have such a reputation for being a womaniser?"

"I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone."

"Oh that is sad. They should not villainise you so in the papers, they don't know you."

"Dear, I have been accused of murdering my mistress and drinking wine from her fresh

skull, pederasty, and incest among other things. And I have been compared to Nero,

Apicus, Heliogabalus, Epicurus, Caligula, Henry the Eighth, and...hmmn... there was one

more..." He put a finger to his lips. "Oh yes, and the Devil. So as you can see, I have

quite a reputation. That didn't use to bother me though, I relished it. It made me feel

more...powerful I suppose. But now... now I'm just tired of it with no way to escape. Even

your brother would likely not find me half as fascinating if I discontinued being so

sensational to the public eye."

Claire stood up straighter in preparation of defending her dear brother in law, but Byron

laughed and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Pax, pax! Don't let your tail feathers get so ruffled. I'm sure that your brother will

always be loyal to our friendship."

"Of course he will!" Claire all but snapped. "Percy isn't just some shallow fly by night

fellow, he is a good man."

"I know he is. A much better man than me, I'm afraid."

Claire looked up at Byron, staring straight into his eyes. "You are a much better man

than you give yourself credit for. You could always redeem yourself in public opinion if

you wanted to; they have a very short memory. "

George laughed, "I'm not sure whether I want to or not. Then I would be known as

merely another sappy poet. And as much as the notoriety bothers me, I don't believe I

would fall back into mediocrity once more. I've committed many sins, Claire. And

although I may be a good poet, I am a very much a bad man."

*****

Buffy went over that last line in her head several times. Good poet, bad man. Good poet,

bad man. God poet, bid man? No! Big man, god man, man of god. Big poet, bad poet...

bad poet, good man! Success at last; but what did that tidbit have to do with the problem

at hand? Geez, think, think, think...where had she heard it before? Bronze, billiards, bad

ass, Spike. Spike had said it, when he was recounting his story about how much of a 'bad

boy' he had been back in Victorian England, moping over that one chick.

"I may be a bad poet, but I'm a good man, Cecily."

It went round in her head again, bad poet, good man. Poetry of motion, poetry of actions.

Good deeds, fighting along side her, weight on top of her. This Spike, or George rather,

doubted his behaviour but recognised the genius for words.

George didn't seem like such a bad guy though; he was covering for his shyness. And

Buffy really couldn't blame him either, having that clubbed foot and all. She would

probably be weird too. And hey, she could entirely relate, to the wearing a mask thing.

Even though Buffy wouldn't let herself think about how she was connecting to Spike

right now. This was a completely different guy, totally different animal. Yeah, totally.

Not.

Buffy started to look towards the couple again, but they weren't there, neither was the

room. It was, once again, just a big white space, complete with big white ghost-demon

thing.

"Hey, what happened to them? It was kinda cool. Really Harlequin romance-y, but neat."

"You experienced all that you needed to there. Your presence was no longer required."

"Yeah but, I wanted to see what happened with them. If they worked it out." Buffy

realised that she needed this, this closure. A happy ending if it was possible.

"There are no happy endings here. Only heartbreak and sadness."

"I want to see it." Buffy whispered quietly in a no nonsense tone of voice which had

frightened countless demons, but not this one.

"As you wish."

The visions hit Buffy forcefully, knocking her onto trembling knees which failed to

support her. She saw this future past, what was already many years behind her. But Buffy

lived it, every moment.

Doctor John challenges Percy to a duel, one missed and John limps away, hatred in his

eyes as he gazes at both Byron and Percy. *flash* Claire giving birth to a baby girl,

Allegra. Calling for George who was in another room, tears standing on his cheeks as he

walked away, head hunched into his greatcoat to block out her cries. *flash* Doctor

John, hanging from a rope, dark eyes closed forever. Killed by his own hand at a tender

age. The manuscript for 'The Vampyre' scattered on the floor beside the chair he used to

seal his fate. *flash* Claire on her knees before Byron, being held up by Mary, weeping

hysterically and accusing him of killing their daughter by sending her to a convent to catch the fever. *flash* Percy and George getting

into a fight, knocking over furniture, swearing to never, ever be friends again. *flash*

Percy falling from his boat to drown in the sea. His dead eyes looking skyward towards a heaven he did not believe in. Long hair floating around his face like dead seaweed. *flash* George dead of a fever in Greece, the turban of a Greek warrior on his head. His heart being cut out and buried with ceremony in the soft, sun-warmed earth of Greece; to remain in the country he had adapted as his own. Lived and died for as an honourable soldier. The rest of his body is put in a box bound for England, a land which was no longer his home. *flash*

Claire dying in Italy, her precious journals and papers clutched tightly in a withered

hand. One flutters to the floor. 'George, return to me. I forgive you. Don't let us go to

eternity with this between us. You are all I have left in the world besides a box of old

memories. Let us fix it.' The letter had been returned unopened years before. *flash* Mary is at a desk, going over her late husband's papers. It is late, the candle dim, and she rubs a brief,

gnarled hand across her eyes before snuffing the light and darkness rises to engulf

everything.

*****

Panting, Buffy crawled to a sitting position. She held one digit to her cheek in

amazement, dragging crystal drops with the pass. Rubbing the tears between perplexed

fingers, Buffy gasped softly.

"I'm crying, I'm actually crying." She studied the fluid for another minute. "I'm crying.

God."

"When was the last time you released something, felt something. Let it crawl inside of

you, fill you, complete you?"

"Before I fought Glory, in my mother's room. I cried."

"Do not lie to me."

"I'm not lying, that was the last time I remember."

"There was another time, more recently."

"Oh, you mean with Spike? That was-that was just...lust."

"As you say."

"You don't believe me?"

"It is of no consequence to me. You have yet to bind your flesh and soul with the proper

mortar. Until you do so, you shall be here forever." Whisper quiet, the shade came nearer

to Buffy, enclosing her.

"What are you talking about mortar? What mortar?"

"You must embrace it."

Buffy turned in circles as the spirit hedged her in further.

"You must find it. I have shown you what I can; you must do the rest on your own."

"God, stop talking in riddles. Just tell me!"

"Embrace it, become it, that which you have sought is within your grasp and you deny it

over and over again."

"What?"

"You know."

Buffy felt it, deep inside, and she swallowed her pride.

"I know."

Buffy opened her eyes.

Authour's Notes II: I did mess with the timeline a little bit with the Byron story, changed a few things around. I also used two or three direct quotes from Byron himself and worked them into the dialogue. They were too perfect not to use. I don't know what Claire really looked like. But if anyone knows of a link to her portrait, then I'd be very grateful to know too.

When she was in Morocco, she referred to her liver a couple of times. This is the Berber's embodiment of love. Just the same as most of us talking about our hearts.

This story was basically about Buffy's journey through her past lives. While she was in the past, she encountered the souls of her friends and recognised them through flashes of a hair or eye colour for example. But she could only observe, not interfere. More will be explained on that in the next one. If you have anymore questions, feel free to write me.