I'm glad many of you have added this story to your Story Alert list and that you're enjoying it so far. Please take time to review, I hope you enjoy the next chapter. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy, Joss Whedon does.


In Buffy's eyes, the world was spinning---which didn't make sense, since she was laying flat on her bed. She felt sick. But then again, she'd been feeling sick for three and a half days.

"Hey. Buffy? You awake?"

Her sister's voice was certainly a nice breakup of the hours of isolation Buffy had succumbed to. She was too weak to do much else, although she wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Yeah," Buffy replied. Her voice came out as a cracked whisper.

She heard Dawn walk over and sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you?"

"Anything . . . new? Update me," Buffy said in between shaky intakes of breath, ignoring Dawn's question.

"Well, Principal Wood sends his regards. He also thinks something creepily mystical's going on with you. Obviously a lot of kids are upset that you're not around in school, because they can't skip class to go get all counseled by you . . . "

Buffy rolled her eyes.

". . . Oh, and there was a food fight at second lunch, and this one kid---"

"Dawn," Buffy muttered after a couple of coughs, "Thanks for that update, but . . . anything new with research?"

"Oh." Dawn's face fell. "Not much. Giles and Willow and the others are still working on stuff. But the Potentials are doing okay. Spike's outside with them."

"Spike?" Buffy cried out, sitting up and ignoring the nausea that came as a result, "It's the . . . middle of . . . the day!"

"Yeah. While you've been resting the past few days, he's been helping out. Didn't he tell you?"


"Right. If I walked over there behind you, say, right now, you'd be dead in two seconds. You know why?"

Spike cocked an eyebrow as one of the Potential Slayers, Vi, whirled around, the stake in her right hand shaking a little.

"'Cause you were too busy focusing all your energy in one spot," he answered when she didn't reply. The girls all nodded in agreement, not wanting to challenge Spike, soul or not.

"You gotta watch all sides, people," he continued, this time to all the girls. He was standing in a very small patch of shade in a corner of the backyard near the porch. He very much wanted to walk out there and speak to them more directly. But he'd only do that if he so desired to be a pile of dust in a matter of seconds.

Yeah. Being a vampire had its limits.

"If a vamp is comin' at you from the front, don't let your guard down from something attackin' you from behind. Buffy's said this before. Remember it."

"Hi, Buffy," Kennedy chirped suddenly, prompting Spike to turn around.

And there she was, leaning against the doorframe in front of the porch. She looked paler and thinner than ever, and Spike wanted nothing more than to somehow bring color to her face again.

She grinned weakly before slowly making her way over to Spike. He gulped.

"So, uh . . . the Nibblet told you I was out here, huh?"

Buffy nodded. "How'd you---"

She coughed, having to hold onto the side of the house before catching her breath to go on:

"---make it all the way over here in one, non-flame-covered piece?"

He shrugged. "Covered myself with my coat. No biggie. You should be resting."

"Everyone . . . keeps saying that," she wheezed, and Spike tried to hide the ache in his expression as he watched her.

"I think," she went on, "I've done . . . enough resting . . . to rival Rip van Winkle."

"Right. Well. Just wanted to help, y'know. Give the kiddies a piece of advice or two about how to kill a vamp, since I am one."

"Yeah. You've got that factor going for ya, huh?" she replied.

It amazed him that even though she was in so much pain, she could still joke about all of this.

"Everyone! Quickly!" came a voice from inside the house.

Spike looked past Buffy's fragile frame to see Rupert Giles waving toward them. "I think we've got something!"


"It's called the Curse of Narynza," Willow stated matter-of-factly. They all stood in the living room, Buffy sitting on the couch beside Spike who had once again become her personal cooler.

Anya sighed, casually throwing one of the many books she and the others had been researching with onto the floor. "That's good. What's a Narynza? Can we kill it?"

Andrew looked up from his seat on a pile of books. "This reminds me of that one episode of---"

"Shut up, Andrew."

"The name doesn't really have much significance, according to these website articles," Giles explained, "It's not a demon, or . . . anything, for that matter, that exists at the present as far as we know. The curse is meant to be used on those with a great deal of power and strength."

"I'm not exactly raging with power right now," Buffy muttered, closing her eyes and leaning against Spike, "So why doesn't it, you know . . . " Cough. "Go away?"

"That's just the thing," Giles went on, glancing sympathetically at the Slayer, "The curse lingers because you're so strong. You may not feel it, but you are."

"But, she's the Slayer," Xander said thoughtfully, "Isn't she immune to some curse-y stuff? I mean, she is Miss Super-Human of the Year . . . of the past few years, now that I think about it."

"Not always," Buffy said, opening her eyes in an attempt not to remember the various times spells had been cast on her and gone haywire.

"So," said Spike nonchalantly. The rumble of his voice, to Buffy, made up for the fact that he didn't have a heartbeat. It was soothing. "This is a spell that can only be cast on the super-strong. People who can handle it. Yeah?"

"I suppose that's a way to put it, yes," replied Giles.

Buffy looked up and saw Spike's expression turn to a thoughtful one. He fell silent.

"So, what are we thinking, here?" Dawn pressed on.

"Well," Giles removed his glasses and shrugged, "I'm assuming that The First is using this spell to weaken Buffy. Buffy's current condition may be a gateway for it to strike."

"Great," said Buffy drowsily. Spike draped an arm around her casually. At this point, she was too tired to care whether he was trying to make a move or not. Something in the back of her mind, though, told her that his actions were sincere.

"That doesn't make sense," countered Anya, "The First can't touch anything, right? It can't flip pages to cast this spell. Or pick up the proper materials---"

"---Which is why it's hurting Buffy through someone else," Willow finished.

It made sense to Buffy. "So . . . what do we do now?"

"We just have to find the person The First is controlling, right?" Xander asked, "And stop them from working the mojo on Buffy?"

"Correct," Giles said.

"So," Dawn said, turning to her older sister, "Whadaya think, Buffy?"

After a brief few seconds of silence, Buffy sat up a little, and said, "I think . . . I need a bucket."

"Oh, bollocks, she's gonna hurl!"


Willow trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, taking a deep breath. She was glad she'd proven useful in helping figure out what was wrong with Buffy.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she noticed an open book lying on her desk. She hadn't remembered seeing it there. Then again, she didn't remember much about her alone time these days.

Alone time meant time with Tara. And there was always a price to pay for that.

Tara had been talking with her about controlling her magic . . . something Willow felt she was doing pretty well with, considering the circumstances.

Giles had always said it would take a while to fully break away from the addictive pull of dark magic. But Willow thought she was doing well.

As far as she could remember, any spell she'd been doing within the past few months had been for Buffy's sake.

She glanced down at her arms. Well, I guess I won't be needing to do this spell anymore. Since it's not working and it just makes my arms all icky-looking. I'll have to ask Tara about that...

She peered over at the book, wondering what she had been looking up the night before with Tara.

And she gasped at what she saw:

"The Curse of Narynza: To weaken the strong and intercede the force of life. Can be used on any species, living or undead, with the invoking of the proper forces by the will of the caster . . ."

With shaking hands, Willow slammed the book shut.

She needed to talk to Tara.


"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I almost vomited on your shirt."

He chuckled bitterly. "S'alright, Buffy."

"I'm so sick of . . . being sick. It sucks. M'hungry but then when I eat I just chuck it up. And did you notice that we don't have a lot of ceiling fans in the house?"

"Uh-huh." She was half asleep on the couch with him, making no particular sense in her conversing with him, and he could have sworn her temperature must have been a hundred and ten degrees by this point.

He remembered what Giles had said earlier about the curse. That someone strong could handle its full affects. That it really could only work on someone strong to begin with . . .

Buffy had a world to save. The First was winning, there was no doubt about that. But what if there was a way to take the burden off her?

Spike looked down at Buffy, his jaw set firmly. To see her so helpless these past few days had taken its toll.

He had some research to do. He'd never been one for reading much since becoming a vampire, but now he knew this was his only chance.

"I'm gonna help make it better, Buffy," he whispered, knowing she was asleep by then, "You have my word."