A/N: I'm really late to the Buffy fandom, having only watched all 7 seasons a few months ago. Of course that then got me reading fanfic, as I often do, and I came across this amazing story called Present Perfect by Helga Von Nutwimple. Much to my dismay is was never completed and I figured that seeing as it was written in August 2004 it probably never was going to be!

I just wanted this story so badly that I ended up writing my own version directly where Helga Von Nutwimple left of.

So basically this story continues on from her story. I have no idea on where she wanted to take it, but I definitely know where I'm taking this story. You really need to read her first five chapters for this to make sense. I've attached a link to her story.

s/2011576/1/Present-Perfect

If that doesn't work, go into filters, sort by reviews, all ratings and the character Spike and then apply. The story is on page 17.

Or you could just read this quick summary here:

Set directly after the season six episode 'Tabula Rasa.' Buffy, annoyed by Spike's advances lately, unknowingly and drunk, makes a wish to a vengeance demon. The wish starts out with Buffy saying 'Everything would just be so much easier if he didn't love me.' Buffy wishes to make Spike the perfect man for her to love. She lists off a whole bunch of things she'd change about him. She wishes he really was Giles son, so then Giles wouldn't leave. She wishes her mom was still alive. There was just one thing she'd forgotten, the earlier 'I-don't-want-him-to-love-me part.

She wakes up the following morning to find her Mom is still alive and Giles has been married to her Mom for five years.

Spike happens to be human and is Giles son. Spike has a tan, his hair is longer and curly with blonde tips. He is doing a doctorate in Psychology. He is a vegan, and is in love with his current girlfriend Tara. His first girlfriend was Faith, Buffy's so called best friend who had died. Buffy, apparently, had always blamed Spike for this. Will, aka Spike, is everyone's best buddy and especially Xander's. Xander is now a vampire and still with Anya. Willow is still with Oz. And much to Buffy's growing horror, Spike/Will doesn't love her. He only sees her as a sister. In a confrontation with him she tells him that she loves him, only to have him reject her.

P.S. Warning, I'm not as good a writer as Helga and my own style is pretty much my own style. I hope you like it anyway. I absolutely love writing stories. I was going to write this anyway whether or not anyone reads it. I just had to get it out of my system and so I thought I would share, just in case there was another crazy person out there like me that loves to read a story that's a bit different.

'Careful on what you wish for'

Chapter One.

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The hot tears that scalded her cheeks, tears of such raw anguish pain began to slowly diminish. She didn't know how, but she managed to pull herself to her feet and drag same said feet towards her home. Her throat felt like dry sand paper with a bitter after taste. She damned all vengeance demons and that cursed wish - Everything would be so much easier if he didn't love me…

She walked, soundlessly and sightlessly, not even noticing the odd strange look flung her way by passing strangers. What did it matter anymore?

What had she done?

She clenched her hands into fists until her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood.

She didn't feel the pain.

The pain in her heart was so great that nothing else mattered.

Maybe if I understood him, knew what he felt, what it was like to be him …

Oh, god … and now she was … in his shoes … she was him.

Spike was lost to her forever. It left a gaping hole in her heart. If only … if only … She didn't want … she didn't know … what it was she wanted. There was only need, only a deep aching need like a yawning abyss taking residence in her heart. And the only person who could fill it was now lost to her forever.

"I was so stupid," she muttered in furious heart rending hiccups between pained breaths. Will's, aka Spike, words came back to haunt her.

'Well Slayer, whoever he was, you wished into oblivion. You made this world and now you have to lie in it …'

She had, made this world, a world where she existed on the periphery, a world where her friends resented her, a world where Will was the centre of their universe and not her … never her. In many ways she was still alone, ostracized and ….

"Screw being the chosen one," she muttered to herself.

'Oh how noble,' came Zander's sneering face before her, 'The untouchable white princess getting her martyr on.'

No … no … it wasn't like that … it wasn't. Buffy shut the memories out. It hurt, it hurt too much.

Finally her house came into view. A blessed relief. Maybe she should pack her bags and just run.

No … no more running.

She had made her bed, as much as it hurt, and she would lie in it.

Slowly and so heavily, Buffy dragged herself up the stairs of her house.

'How long was I gone?'

Spike, sitting on the coffee table, directly in front of her. His hands holding her bloody damaged ones.

'Hundred and forty seven days yesterday. Uh … hundred and forty eight today." His warm beautiful gaze swam before her, a hopeful smile on his lips. 'Cept today doesn't count, does it?'

He had counted the days … the fucking days!

She fell back on her bed.

'But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it countered, of course, but after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again … do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times … lots of different ways.' His voice softened, love shining in his eyes. 'Every night I save you.'

Oh, God! She raked stiff fingers through her hair.

What had she done!

'I know you could never love me. I know I'm a monster, but you make me feel like a man.'

Burying her face into her pillow she sobbed, they racked her body till her ribs ached and her heart felt torn, ripped from her chest.

"I didn't know," she murmured in a broken voice. "I didn't know … I didn't know … why didn't I see it?"

Now it was all very much … too late.

Joyce restlessly paced the overly decorative plush décor living room. Giles hands gently rested on her shoulders.

"She's still my daughter … Giles."

She raised pain filled eyes to his. "Maybe she can be a princess, precious … but she's still a girl, my girl and I can't … take seeing her like this … full of so much hurt and pain."

"It'll be okay, Joyce."

He enveloped her in his warm arms just as Will came storming through the doors. The dark expression on his face informed Giles that things hadn't gone down well between him and Buffy. His heart sank.

Tara shot a worried glance his way - what did they do next?

Withdrawing his arms from Joyce he approached Tara. "I think we need to give him his space."

"And Buffy?" Tara asked.

Giles pushed his hands into his pockets. His eyes gluing themselves to a spot of the floor.

"Her too." He sighed. "It's, ah, all a bit of a mess I'm afraid."

Giles returned to Joyce's anxious expression.

"Where is Buffy?"

He swallowed. "I don't know."

Joyce's expression crumpled before his eyes. He felt horrible.

"Buffy is strong, Joyce," he began. A lame attempt at trying, hoping he was right.

She turned wide stricken eyes to his. "I have to go to her, Giles. I have to help her."

He nodded. This whole horrible mess was taking its toll, even on him.

"We will go together."

Bundling Dawn and themselves into the car they drove home. No one spoke a word. There were no words left to be spoken.

Dawn was quietly weeping in the back seat. Silent tears she felt needed to be kept hidden. Her once secure family was now rendered incomplete.

She didn't understand … what was happening or why. Only that it sucked and it felt all wrong.

Once home, Joyce ran up the stairs to Buffy's bedroom. Please let her be there, let it be okay. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Once reaching Buffy's bedroom door, she took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open.

Much to her relief Buffy was there, fast asleep in her bed. So she thought until she saw the deep shuddering breaths her daughter took.

Oh, Buffy.

Her heart broke, and she found herself moving soundlessly across her bedroom floor.

"Buffy," she spoke and brushed her tangled hair back from her face. "I still love you, I'll always love you."

The girl awoke from her broken stupor. "Mom." Her voice not much more than a silent shattered whisper. "I missed you so much."

The next thing Joyce knew, Buffy had wrapped her arms around her. It had been a while and it brought a lump to Joyce's throat.

She held a sobbing Buffy long into the night.

"The only good thing to come out of this is you came back … you came back to me …"

When Buffy finally fell asleep, Joyce was so exhausted that she could barely string two coherent sentences together.

Giles had patiently waited for her as she climbed into bed next to him.

"I think it'll be okay," she murmured, snuggling up to him as his comforting arms circled her. "I can't remember the last time she opened herself up to me like that. I do hope she will be okay."

Buffy rolled over in her bed, the sunlight streaming through the narrow split of her bedroom curtains. She could just lie here … forever, without a care in the world. Dawn could get her own breakfast, or maybe not. Knowing Dawn she would burn the kitchen down. She really should drag Dawn out of bed. There was no one else after all. It was all up to her. She was now … the carer … the adult … the mother ... the worker.

Dragging her legs over the side of the bed, she ran a hand through her long tousled hair.

"Buffy, breakfast is ready," her mother called from downstairs and all the painful memories came rushing back to her.

She literally fell out of bed, collapsing onto the floor.

It wasn't some horrible dream.

She had, in one foolish drunken night, changed all of their fate.

Spike didn't love her. Spike wasn't Spike anymore. He was William and he was in love with Tara.

In this bizarre world of her doing she had made him Mr Perfect. Only he would never be hers.

She ached for Spike. For the comfort he once offered, for the love he'd tried to give her, a love she'd so casually rejected. Her hands flew to her face.

What she wouldn't give for it now.

And then it came crashing down in all of its horrible ironic reality; she loved Spike. The hate was a disguise she had hidden behind, because it just wasn't fathomable that she could be in love with another vampire, a vampire without a soul.

No. No. No. No! No!

"Buffy," her mother called again.

Somehow she managed to get to her feet and stumbled down the stairs. She was met with her mom's worried gaze.

It felt just as bad as the time she had shoved the sword through Angel's heart, sending him to the hell dimension. And now … now it didn't even bear thinking about. How had Spike so easily replaced Angel in her heart? How had that happened and this other reality, was …

"Buffy," her mom spoke slowly and carefully. "How are you feeling?"

Her eyes met with her mom's.

"Like I've been … put through an emotional wringer."

Her mom gathered her up in a warm embrace. Okay, it had its pluses, this, this felt so good. Her mom pulled back to gaze into her face. The deep concern and worry in her eyes touched Buffy, filling the deep dark void inside of her.

Her mom pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What happened between you and Will last night, honey?"

Buffy could feel her bottom lip tremble. "I-I … can't talk about it, please, mom. I can't see him."

Her mom backed off, still looking overly concerned.

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hey …" she began in a fake chirpy voice. "It'll be fine mom, I just need to adjust."

Buffy was glad when everyone had left the house. Finally she could be alone with her thoughts and stuff and misery, and she had to do something! Starting with a long hot shower.

She drifted back up stairs.

"Focus, Buffy," she murmured. "You've made this world, you have to live in it, you'll adjust and at least you have your Mom back."

And she was back at College, studying Literature of all things. How the hell had she gotten talked into that? And spike was doing a doctorate in psychology.

She collapsed on to her bed in a fit of giggles that broke off in tears. In a strange way it made sense. Spike always had a way of seeing things for exactly what they were. He was astute. The numbing ache took residence in her heart again. She rubbed her chest, and decided she needed to stop moping and get on with things.

She checked her timetable. It seemed she didn't have a class till three o'clock this afternoon.

She had a shower, listlessly brushed the tangles out of her hair. Memories of the way Spike would gently stroke her hair returned in full force. Why was the evil vampire playing with her hair, and why the hell was she liking it? She wanted to tell him to stop, but oh god it felt like heaven and she wanted this, wanted him.

'Pretty hair, Slayer. It's so soft.'

And the way he trailed a curl around his fingers, sent hot sparks shooting down her spine, pooling in her groin.

A sob caught in her throat. Right now she hated the sight of herself. Hated her stupid pretty hair. She had been so damn self-righteous. It's no wonder he didn't love her in this world, wish or not.

She remembered the disgust in his eyes last night. His words … 'Riley, go dunk him in an ice bath and take your sick fantasies out on him. I'm gonna go home and scrub my brain or something.'

Tears pooled in her eyes. He hated her. This Will hated her and he wasn't Spike. Spike was lost to her forever, she, in her stupid foolishness and blindness had really condemned him into oblivion.

She swallowed the sudden enormous lump in her throat and spying a pair of scissors on the vanity table, she reached for them. Without even thinking she began hacking her hair off.

She didn't want to be dumb stupid Buffy anymore.

Long strands of golden hair fell to her feet.

She didn't want to be a precious white princess. All the horrible words from last night, Zander, Will and even Willow's came back to haunt her.

She wasn't going to be that girl anymore.

She wasn't going to be anyone's girl.

She was going to be her. She was going to find the real her.

Lowering the scissors, Buffy gazed back at her reflection. No more feminine girly Buffy. She would be strong, resourceful and get on with life.

And she really had kinda made a mess of her hair. She probably should go to the hair salon and get it fixed, get it cut really short whilst she was at it.

Spinning around she began going through her drawers. God the other Buffy was a skanky hoe when it came to clothes.

Grabbing several large green garbage bags, she emptied all of her clothes into them. Anything that was pretty, flimsy, pink and girly, ugh. She kept the sensible clothes, which there weren't many off, but she did manage to find a pair of tracksuit pants that were blessedly not pink. She put the grey pants on, along with a white long sleeved top.

She eyed her reflection critically in the mirror. Wow, she was really curvy in this reality, what was with that?

Buffy somehow managed to function, adapting to this new reality. After throwing all of her clothes out, getting her hair cut into a really short bob sort of style, she came to the conclusion that she now needed new clothes, which then made her think of money.

She didn't have any money, but much to her delight when she managed to locate her handbag and purse she actually had a couple of hundred dollars tucked away.

That wouldn't last long though.

She should get a job.

Contribute to the household funds.

It just so happened that whilst at the local mall, the bakery was advertising for a job, no experience required. Great. She walked in. They gave her the job on the spot, and her hours were 4.30 to 8.30am Monday to Friday. Which was sort of perfect, though getting up at four in the morning would probably kill her.

She wanted to be kept busy, so busy in fact that she'd have no time to think or ponder or anything like that. And she needed to lose twenty pounds.

So her days consisted of the following; get up at four in the morning, work till 8.30am, come home, have breakfast, go for a run, come back, shower, go to College. Study in library when not at class. Leave College at 5.30pm, help mom with dinner. Work on assignments, or help Dawn with homework and fall into bed with exhaustion at around nine at night.

During the day she managed, but at nights, when everything was dark except for the street lights peeking through her curtains, Buffy would finger the short blunt ends of her hair and think of him – Spike. Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

She could imagine him sitting back on an dilapidated sofa in his crypt, all alone and just waiting. Waiting for her, and she being the bitch she was, making him wait, till she begins to hate herself so much that she still wished she had hair left to cut off.

She could see the sad resignation in his blue eyes, 'you win some and lose some, luv. That's just the way it works.' He'd raise a hand to touch her cropped hair. 'You and me, just wasn't meant to be. This is your new reality now, Pet.'

He propped his feet up on an old battered coffee table, clasping one boot clad foot over the other. He gazed up at her through hooded eyes. 'You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you've lost.'

He shoved his hands behind his head, shadows flickering in the dark blue depths of his eyes.

'Or you can accept it, and try to put together something that's good.'

'Without you,' she wept. 'I-I can't do this … without you …'

Buffy would wake in the morning to find her pillow damp with tears. She'd drag herself out of bed, and another day would begin.

This was after all … her new reality.

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A/N: I know this chapter is a sad one, but trust me there will be plenty enough humour, mixed in with a little bit of angst from time to time in the chapters to follow.

I would love to know what people think? Quite anxiously actually, as I've not EVER followed on from someone's story before. It's just that this story had so much potential that I couldn't help but to write it. I had to see how it all ends :)

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