Chapter 21: Haunting Me

Well I don't know what it is
but I can't seem to make myself forget.

-Stabbing Westward

Spike cracked the door open. He frowned at Faye's empty bed, crossed the threshold and scanned the room. She was buried under blankets, rocking softly. With a sigh, he eased the door closed and settled on the naked mattress. It was cold. She was obviously 'somewhere else', the strange mark shining brightly where the moons' light hit.

"Faye?" He cleared his throat, "Faye." This was asinine, "Come on. Wake up."

She twitched, wrapped tighter and gave a nervous titter. "Oh great! Now I'm hearing things." Her head turned towards him, eyes unseeing. The blankets pulled as she tried to fold in upon herself. Flopping to the side, her shoulders shook. "Why?" Her face curled in pain, still streaked from the last bout of tears. Spike remained seated, unsure what to do. It had taken him almost an hour of internal battling to come this far.

"Why?" Another whimper. She burrowed into her cloth covered hands. "Why did they all leave?" Spike scowled, he hadn't a clue who she was talking about or to whom. The sobbing ensued. He watched the mass of blankets shudder with each labored breath. "Can you tell me why they all left me alone?"

Shifting to the edge of the bed he took a gamble and sighed, "Faye, I had to go."

The shivering stilled. Her breathing ragged hiccups. "Did you take the others with you?"

"No." He dropped his elbows to his knees, "All I took was what I could carry."

"So..." she rubbed her shoulder roughly against a mottled cheek, "You don't know what happened to the others?"

"Who, Faye?" He shifted, "Ed and Jet are fine. You're family..." he cringed when she shifted, head tipped to the floor so she could prepare for the worst safely hidden behind her bangs. He swallowed, "They're gone, Faye."

Twitch. "And Spike?"

"I told you," voice soft, "I had to see if I was really alive."

The blankets wiggled. "Did he get an answer?"

"No." He smirked, slowly shaking his head. "Just ended up in traction," frown, "again."

The bundle chuckled. She turned slightly towards him, still foggy but not as lost. "Hey, so if you're Spike..."

He shifted, "Yeah?"

"I mean..." frown, "You're dead, Lunkhead, so..." she chewed her lip. Nose crinkling as she thought, "how do you know about the others and why can I talk to you? I'm sure as hell not clairvoyant and you've never wanted to chat before." She turned away muttering, "Last time you told me I talk too much and I wasn't even speaking to you." Sniff, "Jerk."

"Pff…" He slid to the floor, slouching against the bed frame, "it's your memory."

Her brows smuckled as her bottom lip slipped out. "Memory? Huh." She turned slowly. "I don't remember this." Her head tipped, "So this must be some post traumatic stress induced nightmare." Nod. "Yup. Too much of a shock and now I'm hallucinating."

"Uhh…" He blinked.

"Must be." A sour smile graced her sad features as she nodded, "Yup. That's it." Her lip quivered, "Explains all these little itty-bitty snapshot memories that're all popping up at once." The blanket scratched at her eyes, "Don't even know if any of them are true." Shudder, "This sucks."

He stretched his legs out, "Mourning does, Faye."

"Hey Spike." She met his eyes, "Did you know I had parents? A grandma? Maid? A crazy Aunt Faith who froze me?" She stirred, "Believe it or not I even had a boyfriend." She blinked, eyes glazing, "He drove a Civic," lip curl, "I hated that car." Sigh, "Dad hated him." Giggle, "Oh! I was an only child too." Grin, "Didn't have to share a thing. Best gifts, schools, teachers... And believe it or not I wasn't a spoiled brat."

"Bullshit, Faye." He smirked.

She fwipped a stray tear from her cheek, "My mom cried when she found out I was following in her and Dad's footsteps." She plopped over, making herself comfortable as she lay on the floor. Rolling to her back, she muttered, "Sure wish I could remember what they did. I…" her head turned to look at him, "I think they were scientists or doctors. Something you've gotta be smart for."

Spike teased, "Wishful thinking?"

A small grin spread, "I bet my Dad would've said he loathed you," her eyes sparkled at some stray memory, "he'd probably speak with you in his study where the two of you could smoke. Mom would've called you a lost soul and cute. Probably try to fill you up with cookies and smiles." She rolled her body the same direction she was looking. Knees curling towards her stomach as she nestled deeper and yawned, "Aunt Faith…" The quilt rubbed her face, "She would have thought you were great. She liked the whole cool, collected, bad boy thing." Sniff, "Crazy, old bat."

Spike smiled wondering if she was remembering or imagining. The facts too exact to come from the jumbled scraps of memories she once had. Shrugging he murmured, "I usually sit well with parents."

Snort, "All that saved up charm, huh?"

"Yup." He tipped forward, "Hey Faye." Voice soft, face stern. "You need to let them go."

"Oh?" Her eyes narrowed, "You're giving me advice now?" Scoff, "That's funny considering..."

He continued, "It's because of that I can offer advice, Faye." Slowly, and unaware of his actions, he moved closer. Voice hoarse as he blurted, "You miss what's right in front of you."

"Hey!" She wriggled upright, "Why do you care," shift, "you're a nightmare?"

"I'm a nightmare?" Chuckle, "Damn. I thought I'd be a happy dream."

"Nope. Dreaming about you constitutes a nightmare." She sighed, "Yup," blanketed fingers tapped her temple, "I've gone crazy and I'm dreaming about talking to dead people. In my book, ghosts fall under nightmares." She shrugged, "You goin' to give me any other unwanted sage words of bullshit, Mr. Spike Ghost?"

He frowned, nothing coming readily besides advice about Chinese toilets.

She chuckled, "Huh. See? You must be a ghosty." She pulled her knees close. "The real Spike would have told me to always remember to hold my skirt up when using a Chinese toilet."

"Actually," he grinned, "I was going to tell you to spread your legs and focus on the sky." Snicker, "Holding your skirt out of the way is good too."

She hummed softly, not really listening. "Hey. Since you're dead can I ask you something?"

Spike quirked an eyebrow and waited. "What?"

"Um…" she blushed, fiddling with her blankets.

He sighed, "What is it Faye?"

"Well," the finger twisting increased. Swallow, "you're dead right?"

Soft snicker, "No." He crawled the last few feet between them, settling comfortably beside her. "See."

Wide green eyes watched closely as he bumped his elbow into her side, "You know," her gaze rose to his face, "I almost believe you. You don't look like a ghost." A hand slipped from her bedding and brushed his cheek. Her expression thoughtful, "Hm."

Spike turned, curious what she would do next. She shifted to kneel before him, the other hand appearing to gently skim his ear. His gaze dropped to the blanket pooling around her waist and swallowed. Her fingers returned, running slowly, teasingly below his eyes.

He tried to tip away, head bumping into the wall he'd decided to use as a backrest. "Faye." Scowl, "What're you doing?"

A wry smirk tugged her lips, "You're the dead one," voice a soft purr, "you tell me." Her head quirked, thumb ghosting his lips. She inched closer.

He coughed nervously, "Faye?"

She tipped forward, expression serious. "It's strange."

He swallowed, squeaking out a nervous, "What?"

Her index finger traced his jaw voice soft and full of feeling. "I honestly thought you were invincible, Lunkhead."

Blink, "Huh?" His face heating in the dark.

She shifted closer, "Um… Spike?" Green flicked from his lips to his eyes.

He cleared his throat roughly. Unhappy with the results he tried again and forced out a tight, "Yeah?"

"If you're dead," she nibbled on her lip, "you won't get mad if I try something," she blinked expression nervous, "will you?"

"What?" He silently tried to quell the flutter in his stomach. The nervous tingling in his fingers. Voice hardening he growled, "What, Faye?"

She blushed, gaze flicking away. A rough chuckle shook her shoulders, "This is my dream." Snicker, "What am I worried about?"

"Uh…" his eyes widened, throat constricting, "Faye?"

Expression set, she cupped his face. "OK dream Spike." Moving closer her body slid between his raised knees.

He squeaked, "I thought I was a ghost?" He gripped her waist, trying to push her back.

"Meh." She tipped towards his nose. "Either way," smirk, "you can't do anything." A hand fell to his chest, her eyes drifting closed as her lips gently pressed against his. Taunting and enticing, her tongue slid slowly across his tightly clamped mouth.

Spike gasped, eyes widened. "F...F... Faye!"

She giggled and took advantage of his shock, fingers curling into his hair as she pressed her chest to his and playfully bit him. Slowly Spike relaxed, hands releasing from their tense grip at her waist. She hummed happily, still certain it was all a dream and in a few hours Jet would drop her off at the closest asylum. Lost in the interaction, Spike returned what he was given, a small voice warning him that Faye wasn't all there. She pulled back, a dark blush staining her cheeks as she mumbled, "Always thought you'd be a half decent kisser." Her eyes sparkled as she tipped in and dropped a gentle peck on the corner of his mouth. "Glad to know I was right."

Spike blinked away the hormonal fog, "Wow." He smirked, "So you believe I'm real now?"

"Nope." Her ear pressed into his chest as she tapped her forehead, "This is all a strange, grief induced dream." She snuggled closer, "Guess there was some unfinished business I had to get off my chest before..." Head shake, soft chuckle as she mumbled, "Can't even say it."

He blinked shocked, Grief? Shifting he blurted, "What makes you think it isn't me?"

Her shoulders drooped, "You'd never kiss me like that in reality, Spike." Shrug, "I'm too much of a tomboy."

"But Faye…" he tucked a stray strand behind her ear. "Hey," smirk, "didn't you just steal a kiss from me?"

"No! You returned the favor and," sniff, "it's my dream." Yawning she curled closer into his body, "You can't steal things in your dreams because they're already yours." Slowly she pulled the forgotten blanket up and over her shoulders and Spike's legs. "Besides..." She hummed, "It's not like I'll remember this. I probably drank myself stupid." Shift, "Most likely, I'll wake up with one bitch of a headache and forget this ever happened."

Spike smirked, Oh you'll remember this.

She shifted slightly, fingers twisting a shirt button absently and sniffled, "You're still a jerk for blowing yourself up, Lunkhead." Her hand escaped from the blanket to touch his cheek, "I still have a hard time believing you're dead." Eyes sparkled as she sniffed. "Guess it's some childish hero worship but you'll always seem invincible to me." Her gaze dropped to his arm propped on a knee, "Guess I'll deal with that later too." She gave a wistful sigh, disappearing back in the quilted confines. "Hmm…" She glanced up at his chin as her mind wandered.

Spike chuckled, "Hey, Faye. Guess what?" He watched as she shifted slightly. His hands floated around her body to link at the swell of her hip. "I'm not dead." He released his hold long enough to tug the quilt tighter around her. "Really."

"Bull." Her head found the slight hollow where his shoulder met his torso, "You left with over 3/4th our arsenal." She gave a sad snort. Her voice cracking slightly, "I hate… hate to break it to you Lunkhead, but you blew yourself up. Bang!" A hand appeared from her cocoon, fingers spread wide, "No more Spiky, just little, itty-bitty pieces of him all over the syndicate." She shivered, the freed hand slinking back below the material to rest on his thigh, "We'll be lucky to get a toe back." Grin, "Nice of you to save us the trouble of an expensive funeral." She melted with a soft breath. A few warm dots bleeding through his shirt.

"I aim to please, Faye." He smiled, she had drifted off. Not wanting to disturb her, and surprisingly comfortable playing the role of mattress, he slumped further down the wall. Her arms wrapped around him in a lackadaisical hug. A knuckle gently brushed a stray lock off her face, finger tucking it behind her ear. "Goodnight, Faye." He watched as the moonlight painted her face. Sleep slowly ironing out the worried expression as the tear stains evaporated. Planning on leaving before she woke he fell into a light slumber.

The quartet in the kitchen stilled at the sudden silence. Vash glanced at the hunched spine in the doorway, Jet chain smoking on the back step. Meryl fingered her tea cup. Milly fiddled with a pudding spoon. "Gee…" she peeked at Vash, "Sure got quiet up there, didn't it?"

Meryl released a weary sigh, "Yeah."

"You think she's OK now," Milly blinked, "Mr. Vash?"

Vash carefully replaced the freshly cleaned cylinder and shrugged. Expression cool he tried to decide what actions the cowboy had taken.

"Maybe she isn't remembering," Meryl took a slow sip and cringed, "That night."

"Oh. She was remembering." Jet snarled, "Spike must've woke her up or changed her focus."

Milly giggled, "Maybe he did like those princes do in the stories and kissed her awake."

The other three snorted. Vash cleared his throat, teal flicking to the point in the ceiling where the soft pops had come from. "You really think he helped her?" He spun the cylinder, eye peering down the barrel as he checked the gun over. Hmm… still shoots to the left.

"Mr. Vash!" Milly's barked in a harsh whisper, "You saw Mr. Spike at the hospital. He wouldn't leave Miss Faye alone when she needed someone, just like you'd help Meryl." Both he and Meryl blushed while refusing to look at each other.

"Pff… he'd help anyone that needed it whether it was wanted or not." Jet picked up on the frigid undercurrent in the small insurance girl's voice. He grinned, Are we a tad jealous?

Vash shrugged and resumed his gun maintenance.

Jet chuckled, "You know, kid. You're pretty clueless."

The tinkering stopped and Milly giggled. "Meryl is too, Mr. Jet."

"Milly," Meryl hissed, voice teaming with exasperation, "what are you talking about?"

Jet and the stout insurance girl shared a knowing laugh at the pair's expense. Grinning Jet teased, "I see your point."

Meryl glanced at the ceiling, far from amused. "Well, I think I'm going to try and get a few hours sleep." She stretched, "Tomorrow's a new day and I'm sure we'll be busy." She gave a half wave, "Night."

"Goodnight." Milly chirped and followed.

Jet peeked at Vash, no longer tinkering, his gun clean and resting on the tabletop. "You and Spike are a lot alike, you know that?"

The gunman snorted. "I don't think so." Jet just smiled and made his way up the stairs. Vash stared at the doorway the cowboy had slipped through. Eyes narrowing as he gnashed his teeth. I'd never leave someone to suffer so long alone.

On a dusty road, far from New Hope, Roy fidgeted nervously on the hard bus seat. He'd left late the night before, hitching a ride to Apryl from one of the bar's delivery men and then boarded a bus that would take him across the desert and to September by the appointed hour. It had been difficult. Both parents wary and suspicious after their battered, basement captive seemed to recognize him. He shivered, he'd come too close to getting caught. He glanced at his wristwatch, again. Timan was a stickler for punctuality and Roy had no intention of testing the cool henchman's limits nor did he want to meet Otz again.

Their threat of reintroducing him to the new and improved Amy enough to make him promise his first born just to keep them happy.

He glared at the second hand slowly chipping away his time. He'd been on that smelly bus, next to his absurdly obese neighbor for six hours. SIX! He gritted his teeth, cringing at the frightening pop. The old professor was scary when irritated and from the specific instruction he had received from Dot, he better not fail unless he wanted the ire of both Timan and Otz. He checked his watch, again, disturbing the large man beside him. His job simple: stake out the town, find the plant and note any threats or defenses; which shouldn't be hard, he had a contact in the area. After meeting with the farm boy and learning the lay of the land he was then to go meet the group at the inn for further instructions. He sighed and fussed, it was so much easier just collecting information from the drunks at the bar and Meryl's ramblings.

"Hold still." Grumbled his seatmate.

"Eh… sorry." His eyes slid back to his watch. There was a bus transfer and then another four hours. His head clunked repetitively against the back of his seat. Surprisingly the constant rhythm lulled his neighbor asleep.