White picket fences, by dutchbuffy2305

Spoilers: up to LMPTM

Rating: R

Summary: Buffy Anne lives in the perfect world. Why would she let the mailman disturb her peace?

Feedback: Always! dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk

Website:

Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine

"Buffy Anne!"

The voice of the teacher cut through her daydreams, and Buffy looked up guiltily. Miss Bennett looked at her with smiling reproof, head tilted charmingly.

"Not what we're used to from you, young lady!" she chided Buffy Anne gently.

"I'm sorry Miss Bennett!" Buffy Anne felt bad for letting her down. She knew the teacher counted on her, as Class President, to set a good example.

"That's alright, dear, everyone is allowed an off moment once a year."

The rest of the class tittered politely. Buffy Anne felt her cheeks flush nonetheless and made a face at her best friend Alder. Alder rolled her eyes and indicated her notepad to point out to Buffy Anne that she didn't have to worry about notes. Alder was the best. She was the smartest girl in English class; actually, in all classes they took together. Probably in all her own, more advanced classes as well. Buffy Anne was happy to have a friend like that.

When class was dismissed, Miss Bennett asked Buffy Anne to stay a moment. Again, she tendered heartfelt apologies.

"That's alright, Buffy Anne," Miss Bennett repeated. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to talk to you about graduation, about the valedictorian speech."

Buffy Anne gasped. "You can't mean – I know my grades are good, but Alder's are way better! And I'm not even a senior!"

"Of course. But there is room for more than one Valedictorian speaker, and the principal and I decided to make room for Extraordinary Students in other ways."

For a moment, Buffy Anne felt dizzy. At the mention of the word principal, several faces flashed before her mind's eye, each with its own emotion attached to it, and for a moment, she couldn't decide which face belonged to her own principal.

Afterwards, she walked out of the class with a spring in her step. Not that she was unused to success and popularity, but Valedictorian as well…Wow. Alder and Alex were waiting for her.

"Was she mad? I'm sorry, I'm a bad bad friend, I should have seen that you were drifting off and warned you, I'm really sorry..." Alder babbled.

Buffy Anne felt her heart twang gently in something alike to regret. Babbling Alder was so cute. She'd missed that. She halted in mid-thought and reeled herself in sharply. Buffy Anne! She said sternly to herself. You haven't gotten to be where you are with slacking off and daydreaming.

She told her dearest friends about the honor the school was about to bestow upon her and Alder almost danced in her excitement.

"That is so cool! Buffy Anne, you are the best speaker I know! I still reread your acceptance speech when you became Class president, that was the most touching and yet rousing speech I ever heard. "

"Thank you," Buffy Anne said modestly. It was true, if she said so herself, she did know how to touch the right chords. She had to, of course, as head cheerleader you had to whip up the girls into a good cheerleading frenzy at times.

She said goodbye to her friends at the school entrance and started walking home. The sun shone brilliantly in the cloudless blue sky, and Buffy Anne took deep breaths of the clean, fresh California air. She must be the luckiest girl alive. She couldn't wait to tell her mother about the teacher's request.

On her way home, her eyes rested happily on the brilliant green grass and the red and yellow tulips that were planted in the front yard of every pretty home she passed. The newly painted white picket fences set off the colors of the flowers and the grass. Mrs. Jenkins was picking up litter with her special litter-stick, and nodded at her in a friendly manner. Buffy Anne nodded back perkily and chatted with her for a moment. It was good practice for when she would be Mayor of Sunnydale, later. For now, she was just glad to live in such a peaceful, pretty town.

Her mother was already waiting for her, standing on the front porch in her red-and white checked apron, the sun making her golden-brown curls gleam.

"Hi Buffy!" She waved energetically. "Did you have a nice day at school, honey?"

"Hi mom!" She loved her mother, and she was really proud of her, too. She looked so slim and pretty for her age, it was a little miracle.

After she had done her homework for the day, and her dad had come home, they sat down at the dinner table and had a great meal, as usual. Her mother was the best cook, and her dad always had a funny story to tell. Dinner was her favorite moment of the day – although she did think that on other moments, too, actually. She helped her mother do the dishes.

"Buffy Anne Honey?" her father called out. "Where did you put the mail?"

"Oops!" Buffy Anne said, and covered her mouth in embarrassment. "I'm so forgetting girl today!'

"I'll go get it, Daddy!" she called out and ran lightly down outside to the mailbox. Getting the mail for her daddy had been her own special task since she was four, and she'd make up to him for the forgetting with her extra special smile.

Right at that moment, the mailman rode up and deposited mail in their box. Buffy Anne greeted him, friendly, but with her low wattage smile, reserved for men she didn't know and should not encourage.

"Hello, Buffy," the mailman said.

She was a little annoyed that he knew her name, and besides, nobody called her that, but she didn't let it show on her face. Buffy Anne, her mother would say, a lady is unfailingly polite, especially to people we don't know socially.

After dinner, she was allowed to walk over to Alder's to watch TV together. She was walking past the Park she wasn't supposed to use as a shortcut, when she noticed a bicycle coming up to her and slowing down to match her jaunty stride. Buffy Anne stared straight ahead. She knew just how to deal with boys like that.

"Hello again, Buffy," a voice said.

Buffy Anne was shocked out of her complacence. "My name is Buffy Anne!" she snapped.

The mailman? He was no boy. She knew how to fob off a boy making a nuisance of himself in ten seconds flat, but men were another matter altogether. To men, a girl was polite but distant. She sneaked a peek. He was staring at her in an annoyingly direct manner, as if he knew her innermost secrets. The urge to smack him soundly was overwhelming. She knew better than that, though. She'd tell her father, and he'd speak to the Mayor, or the Commissioner or someone like that. She didn't think mailmen were supposed to accost girls like her.

A ways off yet, she saw the gate to the Park approaching. A naughty plan sprang up in her mind. She would use the entrance to escape into the Park, where he couldn't follow on his bike.

Secure in her plan, she turned, still walking on rapidly, and looked at him fully. "Why are you talking to me?" she taunted. "I'm a high school girl. Aren't I a little young for you?"

His eyebrows rose. He pushed out his lips and smirked at her. "You sure? Thought you liked older men?"

If he meant that she was dating a guy who was in college, well, duh. That was not the same as talking to a real grownup. Someone who hadn't even gone to college, like she would. She stuck her nose high in the air and refused to look at him again. When the gates opened up on her right side, she snuck in quickly and ran over the grass to the other side of the park. Except – what were all these weird stone ornaments doing on the grass? She slowed down, curiosity getting the better of her. One stone in particular drew her, and she knelt down and rubbed off the slight coating of dust.

"Joyce Summers," it read, "Beloved mother of Buffy and Dawn, August 20 1955 – February 27 2001."

Buffy Anne felt dizzy again, for the third time that day. Her mom wasn't dead. And who was Dawn? And anyway, it should read beloved wife of Hank, too, if she ever died. She stood up, and swayed for a moment as blood rushed from her head. Wow. She was really having a weird day. She turned back to look at the rectangle of stone again, but it had gone. Had it even really been there?

She told Alder about the strange things happening to her, well, not about the mailman, because she felt kind of icky and a little guilty about attracting the attention of a man like that. Like it wouldn't have happened if she was a really good girl or something. Like she'd encouraged him.

Alder got really mad. "You know it's important to stick to routine, Buffy Anne!" she shouted. "You know the world is going down the drain if we don't stick to the right way of doing things! Cut across the Park? How on earth could you even think of doing that? You've known your whole life that using the Park was wrong! You know what? I'm going to call your Mom and ask her to have your Dad pick you up. I don't think can be in the same room with you. You, of all people, should know how to stick to routine!"

"Please, Alder," Buffy Anne begged, tears in her eyes. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to get away from the scary man!"

Alder stopped being angry right away. "Scary man? What do you mean? Who was he? What did he look like?"

Buffy Anne stammered, "I don't know, Alder! I'd never seem him before. He looked just ordinary!" For some reason his very ordinary face swam up in her memory, sharper than she thought it ought to be. Blue eyes. She pushed the dangerous thoughts away, not sure why she was lying to her best friend, but very sure she had to.

Alder crossed her arms and regarded her steadily. "Well. You're right, we shouldn't tell your parents, they would so wig." She leaned forward confidentially. "You should tell your boyfriend when he gets home from college. He'll know a way to beat him up good!"

Buffy Anne nodded earnestly. "Brilliant idea, Al!" she said. "Arch will know what to do."

They settled back in their routine pastime of watching TV and eating candy, uneasily at first, but it wasn't so hard to get back into the familiar gossiping and giggling again. Just like every other night.

*****

The next day promised to be as unsettling as the last one. First thing in the morning, after a hearty breakfast of waffles and syrup – a good breakfast is the most important meal in the day – she'd been walking to school, ponytail bouncing, petticoats swaying, when that mailman stepped across her path.

"Go away!" she hissed. "Don't let people see you! They'll send the police after you if you keep this up!"

"Buffy?"  His face lit up in a wonderful smile, which tugged at her heart in peculiar contradictory ways. "You're back? D'you remember?"

She halted, confused. "No. Should I? I'm just giving you fair warning, because you haven't done anything really bad yet. But I know other people won't think that. You'd better go away quickly."

"No way, Buffy. I'll always be here for you. We'll get you out. Giles is working on it."

He clasped her hands briefly and ran off. His hands had been warm. She felt the sunshine on her face. Something was wrong about this, but she just didn't know what yet.

The rest of the day she anxiously kept to her most normal routines and ways of doing things. Nothing should be different or noticeable about her today. She felt watched. But who would be watching her? These people were her friends and teachers, familiar since forever. She'd known them since first grade, practically. They couldn't possibly mean her harm. Get you out, the mailman had said. Out of what?

She flirted with the jocks in her practiced, friendly manner, keeping them interested but not giving any of them a promise of more. She chatted to her little group of followers, Goneril, Rhapsody and the rest of the sheep pack. Daniel and Alex were a relief to sit with at lunch. At least they didn't try to chat her up all the time. They knew she was Arch's. The fuzziness hit her unexpectedly. She'd felt so secure in thinking of Arch, away at college over in….LA? Sure, UCLA, that was it. There couldn't be anything off about Arch, too? He was the one constant factor in her life. She almost snarled at her traitorous thoughts, and the others looked at her a little curiously.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Thinking of Arch."

They accepted her explanation good-naturedly and talked on. Dear Alex. He never bugged her about stuff, was never judgmental. He'd back her up no matter what, and was just there for her, even if he wasn't smart. Her thought returned to Arch, like picking at a scab. Why couldn't she picture him as vividly as, say, that mail carrier? A guy she'd never seen before in her life? How weird was that? Mucho weird. When Alder came over to sit next to Daniel the indefinable sense of wrong deepened. She wanted to jump up and run out of the cafeteria, out of the stifling atmosphere of many eyes watching avidly. Some cautious and crafty instinct she did not know she possessed made her keep still. A low profile was of the utmost importance now. She glanced at Alder, and caught her staring oddly. Buffy Anne threw her a wink and started to rise.

"Time to get back to class, guys, we don't wanna be late."

"No, we sure don't," they chorused. Danger averted.

******

That evening after dinner was her night for cross-stitch and TV with Mom. It had never been so hard to concentrate on the work before. At last she hit a long stretch of similar border work and could go on automatic pilot. She picked and picked at the scab in her thoughts but could not find a beginning. Why was this happening to her? She'd always been a good girl, but something inside her leaped at the chance to be bad. Tomorrow she'd walk casually by the Park again, or linger a few minutes when picking up the mail. She didn't know what to make of the mailman, but he was definitely the most interesting thing that had happened in Sunnyvale since…her mind drew a blank. She knew she had lived here her whole life, but could she actually remember doing that? Being younger? Or in kindergarten? The mind pictures were really fuzzy and unclear. If only she could ask someone if their memories were as vague.

After she could finally escape to her room, she desultorily gave her hair its hundred strokes, brushed her teeth, chose one of a dozen pretty flowered nightgowns. She was just about to close her window when she smelled the most peculiar acrid burning smell. She was about to call her mother to check for fire somewhere, when she recognized the silhouette standing under the big sycamore. The mailman. He was making a little red light wink on and off with his mouth. With an agility that was not at all unusual for a champion cheerleader she climbed silently out of her window and padded over to the tree on her bare feet.

"Hi!" she said. "What are you doing?"

The mailman took the white tube out of his mouth and ground it out with his foot.

"Watching you," he drawled.

"Really? Why ever would you watch me?" Buffy Anne asked, twirling a lock of her long hair. She crossed her right leg before the other, and rocked a little on her heels. She thrust out her braless breasts and threw the mailman a look from under her lashes. Too bad she'd already taken off her mascara. Would he react just like a boy would?

His reaction was more than she could have imagined. He took a step back from her at first, and when she smiled at him encouragingly, stood staring at her with his mouth open.

"Buffy, what the hell are you…."

Swearing! She had just known grown men were more interesting. She closed the distance between them, excited by the effect she was having on him. She extended a finger and ran it lightly over his uniform blouse.

"Tell me," she murmured, "What's a man like you doing in a town like this?"

He burst out laughing. She stared at him, deeply wounded. A boy would have been drooling by now.

"Buffy, Christ, why are you playing at being a teenage version of Jean Harlow?"

"I was thinking more Breathless," she answered sullenly.

"You really don't remember a thing, do you, love?" He glanced up at the house and drew her behind the tree. This was actually scary. What would he do to her when nobody was looking? She felt her heart thump in her throat and wished she hadn't been so foolish. The look in his eyes was so hungry…She could still reel him in, she just knew it, she just had to play it differently. And make sure she was never in any real danger.

"Buffy, you're a prisoner. This world isn't real."

How lame was that? She said scornfully, "Yeah, right. Is that the only story you could think of?"

He tried to grab her hand, but she would have none of it. She shook her arm loose and backed off. "Not the way to get a girl to be nice to you, buster! Goodnight!"

She heard his exasperated whisper after her: "Buffy…"

******

As Buffy Anne always did at exactly the same time every morning, she walked to school, petticoats dancing, pretty pink heels click-clacking on the pavement. Today was different, though. There was danger in the air, a breach of routine, and her whole body felt extra perky and bouncy in anticipation. There was a pleasant feeling of scaredness in the pit of her belly, and the bright colors of the grass and the flowers and the sky vibrated with the extra zing.

She just knew the exact moment the mail carrier's bicycle turned on Main and started to overtake her. It was a tingling, knowing sensation in the back of her neck. He slowed the bike when he was a couple of feet behind her. She smiled, even if he couldn't see it.

"I do know you're there!" she said, swinging her little beaded pink purse.

"You always do, pet," he said and drew level with her. Buffy Anne sneaked a peek at him from under her lashes. To see the middle-aged ordinariness of his face again shocked her a little. In her dreams, he wore another face, one she couldn't remember, except for intense blue eyes. Were these eyes even blue? She scrutinized him thoroughly.

"What's to see, love?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Brown eyes, two unremarkable eyebrows.

"Just checking if your eyes are blue," she blurted out. Oops. You should never ever tell a guy you were thinking about him.

He tilted his head and smiled at her. He acted like he was some sort of hot football jock in stead of a paunchy mailman. That was against all laws of attraction, which dictated jock should seek cheerleader, senior guy could go for junior girl, but not vice versa, the nerd would seek, well, she didn't actually know a rule for that. The nerd should pine after the cheerleader without bothering her with it, she decided.

It wasn't that she found her pursuer attractive or anything, because he was way too old and pudgy for that. He was just a diversion. A little secret, all to herself, to help her get through the day, to help combat the boredom. Hastily she suppressed that thought. Of course she wasn't bored! She was lucky to be herself, popular and successful, a normal girl.

"You been thinking about what I said yesterday?" the mailman asked.

"Um, no?" she replied archly. Would he please start flirting already? Did a girl have to do everything herself?

She threw him a smoldering look and flipped her hair. The handle bars wobbled perceptibly. Buffy Anne was glad to see she still had it.

"You flirting with me, Buffy?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Duh. Do I have to spell it out for you? What else?"

There was silence. Buffy Anne stared straight ahead. Really.

"I was hoping that you'd taken what I told you yesterday seriously. And that you'd maybe remembered a little. Like, how would you know my real eyes are blue?"

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "You mean, when I dreamed that your eyes were blue it was really true? Cool! And your face is different, too, huh?"

She'd made him very happy. He glowed at her for a moment and ran his hand through his hair. "You remember my face?"

She was actually sorry to disappoint him. "Not really. I just have this vague memory that it's different, is all" She tried to cast he mind back to what he'd been saying last night. "So – there is another world, where I really belong, and someone is keeping me prisoner in this world? And you are from the other world and you know me there?"

He nodded.

"Are you – a friend of mine?"

It looked like a really difficult question. After a long pause, he said, "In a sense, yeah. We're sort of work buddies."

There had to be more, Buffy Anne could tell. She trusted her instinct and went in for the kill. "We dated, huh?"

"I' m impressed," he said. "How did you know?"

"I just know things," Buffy Anne shrugged. "So, are you, like, my age, or in college?"

"We, um, we met at work," he nodded. Evasively, Buffy Anne thought.

"Does my mom like you?" Bull's eye again! A wobble in the handle bars.

A memory from yesterday's foray into the Park surfaced. Buffy Anne nearly dropped her purse as she lifted her hands to her mouth." Oh, no! It's really true, isn't it? My mom is really dead, huh?"

She didn't need his affirmative nod. She waited for the grief and the tears to overwhelm her, but nothing happened. "I can't even be sad about it. Why?"

"I don't know. This whole world is artificial. Everybody smiles all day long, never veering away from their routines for a moment. Took us a long time to get someone in who had a bit of freedom."

They were nearing Roosevelt, where her school was. Buffy Anne was really getting curious, although she didn't exactly believe him. They both stopped, and the mailman said, "I'm going to turn off here, I'd better not be seen with you. Meet you tonight when you get back?"

"Okay." When he was almost out of earshot she yelled, "Your name!"

"Spike!" He called back and cycled off.

Buffy Anne tested the name on her tongue. Spike. Not a very romantic name. More like a nickname. She could live with a nickname.

*****

It had been so hard, so unnatural somehow not to confide all this thrilling adventure stuff to Alder. But thanks to another exciting occurrence at lunch that day, Buffy Anne had managed to keep her mouth shut. Something had happened to the sky all of a sudden. It turned grey, and water came out of it, like from a shower. The people lunching outside actually got a little wet. Then the grey drifted off, and everything turned to normal again, except for everybody talking about it of course, until the principal and put a stop to it.

Buffy sat waiting impatiently on the window sill of her room. When she saw the telltale little red dot come nearer slowly, her heart started to race. It was almost like falling in love, only not. Because no way was she ever going to go for a pudgy mailman, ever. Although if his tale were true he might be better looking in that other world. She wasn't sure if she really believed it, but hey, it beat going to bed early.

"Come on up," she whispered to the shadowy form on the lawn.

The man made a half-hearted attempt to climb the trellis. "I don't think I can," he whispered back. "This body isn't exactly athletic or lightweight."

Strange way of putting it, she thought. Well, she didn't mind climbing down again. She like the feeling of strength and agility physical exercise gave her. She jumped lightly into Spike's waiting arms. He stumbled a little under her weight and for a tantalizing moment, she was in his embrace. The warmth and bulkiness of his body overwhelmed her senses and she pressed against his chest in an impulsive hug. He returned the pressure for the smallest of instants and then stepped out of her arms.

She pouted. "You're not being fun!"

"This is serious, pet. We're not playing, here." He sounded like her dad. Big turn-on. Not.

"We dated, we can hug, no big deal, right?"

"It's still a big deal to me, Buffy. No hugging. Let's talk."

Buffy Anne saved this topic for later. She must have broken it of, she guessed, and he was still pining for her. She kind of liked that. They sat down on the dry grass on the other side of the big tree. Invisible from inside, completely exposed to the street side. Not that there was any traffic, ever.

"I think I figured it out, Spike," Buffy Anne said excitedly. "It's the teachers, right? They're evil, they're like criminals or creatures from outer space and they are controlling me and my friends."

"Uh-huh," Spike shook his head." Not the teachers."

"The parents?" Buffy Anne whispered, with a look in the direction of the house. "I could believe it of Mrs. Rosenberg, she's so…"

"No. There's nobody here. This demon trapped you inside this spelled world, where there are only puppets performing tasks by rote. You're the only real person here."

Buffy Anne needed a few moments to absorb this. "But – my friends! Alder! She's my best friend, how could she be a puppet! All that we've gone through together!"

Spike looked at her skeptically. "Like what?"

"Like when we were in first grade, we…" her mind drew a frightening blank. Could it really be true, what he was saying? Could everything she loved be false? Her eyes filled with tears. Spike wiped one off with a finger. The love and concern she saw in his eyes scared her and she looked away.

"Do I have friends in that other world?"

Spike encircled her shoulder with his arm and patted her comfortingly. "Sure you do, pet. Lots and lots of them, people who've been with you for years. They're actually a bit like the friends you've got here. Alder is modeled on your real friend Willow. Only you didn't go to first grade together, because you only moved here seven years ago. To Sunnydale, I mean."

"Sunnydale, Sunnyvale. Willow, Alder," Buffy Anne mused. "And is it like, Alex is Caesar?"

Spike looked at her oddly for a moment. "You seem a bit more…well-read than your counterpart. How could that be?"

"It's like, you have to hide it if you're smart, you know. If you want to be popular."

"Is that what you want?"

Buffy Anne was surprised. Of course it was. "Duh! Who wouldn't want to be popular and normal, and…"

"Are you afraid you aren't, then?"

What a question. "What do you mean by that?" She twisted away from him a little. She didn't like his line of reasoning. The earth started quickly to feel cool under her scantily clad hips and she moved closer to his warm bulk again. "You're nice and warm. A girl could get to like that."

Spike was very silent. She reached up and patted his rough moist cheek. "Hey, that was a compliment."

"I got that."

"You just got really manly and silent and hurt. Why?"

He sighed, "You'll remember all that when you get back, innit? I don't feel like talking about it. Let's try to figure out a way to get your memory back. The longer you and me stay here, the more chance there is to be discovered."

Buffy Anne was suddenly very bored with all the getting back talk. She felt sure there was something not at all fun about getting back. The feeling was very strong. She moved to sit within his legs.

"Buffy, please…"

"I'm cold, okay? Next time bring a ladder so I can stay in bed."

The mention of bed caused a sharp reaction in the body behind her back. Spike shifted uncomfortably. Buffy Anne smiled. Oh yeah. Fun and games.

She took his warm, large hands and placed them on her belly. "Warm me up," she commanded.

"Why don't I just give you my jacket?" Spike said with an exasperated edge in his voice and tried to set her from his lap forcibly. To her surprise, she was far stronger than he was and ended up straddling him, easily holding his arms in a tight grip, and forcing the hands against her body.

"I'll play along with the adventure idea, you play along with me," she said teasingly.

Spike was rigid with anger, but since she was so much stronger, he couldn't do much. Realizing her strength had dispelled the last of her fears. This mouse was hers to play with as long as she liked!

"Buffy, don't you realize that being this strong isn't normal for a girl? This means my story is true. You are the chosen warrior, unique among all girls, and you need to get back to your own world to combat evil."

"Read a lot of comics, huh?"

She ground her hips on his, and it was really nice. Her body tingled all over. She couldn't remember feelings like this at all, and there was no way she was going to give this up yet.

"Buffy, our relationship ended badly. I really don't feel like rehashing it while you don't have your memories."

"Did we have make out?"

"Yes, Buffy, we made out. We are both adults in the other world."

"Wow. That is so cool! None of the other girls has been making out yet!"

"It's not about that! It's about getting you out of here," he retorted, irritated.

He didn't get it. "It's about power, and right now I have it, and you don't."

"And you're gonna do what with that power? Play naughty girl, who does the dirty with a guy her friends can't know about? Now why does that sound familiar?"

"I'm sure you're trying to be sarcastic and meaningful, but since I don't have these memories, I really don't get it!" Buffy Anne snapped back at him.

Something about his anger and helplessness made this even more fun for her. So what did that say about her? She must be kind of bad, she supposed, but she just didn't give a darn. She pinched him through his shirt, and he bucked and growled at her.

The growling sparked off a deep, visceral, tactile memory. There were no visuals, and she found herself gripping his upper arms hard and kissing him desperately, French kissing no less, she'd never imagined this kind of wild bruising grapple of lips and tongue and teeth. And yet it was definitely a memory. Without thinking, she ground her breasts against his body, eager for contact. The kissing went on and on, and she heard them both gasping for breath. His sweat was slick against her skin, and it was all so hot she thought she was going to combust. Finally, she couldn't stand the heat any longer and wrenched herself loose. The heat was wrong, and it was all a little too far beyond her prom night imaginings.

She looked at the man, lying propped upon his elbows, his breath labored, chest heaving.

"You okay?"

"Will be. A little trouble with breath management," he gasped. "Not used to it."

Whatever.

"I had a memory," she told him. "I could feel it, but not see it. Something was different. The heat was wrong."

Spike wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Not surprising. I don't have body heat in the real world."

Another one of these remarks she was gonna have to let slide. All these little dribbles of information on the so-called real world annoyed her.

"Okay," Buffy Anne said, and settled herself against his (too warm) body again. "This kinda scared me, and convinced me. There is some kind of connection between us, and lots of scary memories, and I'm ready to know more. Tell me about us. And about me."

Spike lay down and folded his arms behind his head. She could feel his heart still hammering away.

"We've know each other for years, work-related, didn't really get on. Then we had a brief, unharmonious relationship, and you ended it. With good reason. A year after that, we're working together again. We trust each other."

"Thank you for the Reader's Digest, but I was kinda hoping for the Harlequin version?"

He just looked back at her, not going to be budged, she could tell.

"That can't be all," she said with conviction. "I jus know there is still something there, I feel it. You still love me, don't you?"

He exhaled loudly. "Yes."

"Well, if I have a memory of kissing like that, there's gotta be a spark left, huh?"

He looked away. "Could be a bad memory, you know. Please just leave it?"

"Uh-huh," she shook her head. "This is my condition for going along with the whole cloak and dagger stuff. You answer my questions, you help me practice."

"Practice what?" he said, but she could tell he already knew.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Buffy, you are going to make me pay for this when we get back. Have you no mercy?"

"Sorry, that just doesn't ring true, Mr. Mailman. You're no poor something, you can't make me believe that. There's power here, I can feel it." She thumped his chest.

They fell silent. Even though she was getting cold again, it was weirdly comfortable, exactly as if they had known each other for years, instead of a day. She was definitely getting more and more convinced. Without a word, Spike took of his blue US Mail jacket and wrapped it around her. Buffy

Anne closed her eyes. If she didn't look at his face, and ignored the warmth and the hairiness, she could imagine he was her beautiful dream lover, and that they were having a romantic evening out together. The moon silvered his hair as they walked hand in hand among the tombstones. A tall figure rose from behind a tomb, wielding a huge pointy stick directed at her lover.

"Spike!" she screamed and woke up with her heart pattering wildly in her chest.

"Buffy? What? Did you dream?" Spike's voice sounded fuzzy with sleep.

"It was creepy! I dreamed we were walking in a graveyard, don't ask me why, and you're hair was platinum, and a tall figure threatened you with a pointy stick. It sounds silly, but it seemed very threatening. I…" She frowned. "It's gone now. I still remember the dream, but the rest just slithered away." She turned to him with a smile on her face and smoothed his hair from his face. "We were walking hand in hand in a graveyard, Spike. Now why would we do that? In the dream I didn't think it was weird at all."

He smiled back at her and her heart lurched. How could he think it was over? They must be in love, she was so sure of it. He cocked his head to look at the sky and rose to his feet, groaning as he did so.

"Almost dawn, Buffy. I'd better go. See you tonight? Ow. Really ow." He face scrunched up in pain as he stretched his back. "Oh God, I'm agony here. My back is killing me. Humans are so bloody pathetic. Ow."

Buffy Anne felt a strange lack of sympathy. "You should have thought of that before you started sleeping on the bare ground at your age. I suppose you're younger in the real world?"

He looked at her evilly as he tried to work a crick out of his neck. "Hah bloody hah."

She ruffled his hair and they smiled at each other for a moment, making Buffy Anne dizzy and breathless. Whoa. This love stuff was way better than cheerleading and class presidenting. She tried to imagine Alder and Daniel acting this gooey, but she couldn't get her mind around it. Her memory about weekends with Arch were equally fuzzy. Dancing at the Chrome, a movie, eating popcorn? That was all there was to it. She sneaked back upstairs and stuffed the damp and grass-stained nightie in the back of her closet. Mom would never notice.