3.

It was so clean.

Why were these places always so clean? I mean, if they were supposed to prepare people for re-entry into society, wouldn't a little dirt be a nice way to edge them into it? Real life was, after all, pretty grubby. A twelve step programme, maybe starting with a dirty plate or two, leading into some gentle dusting? She realised her mind was wandering again, snapped back to reality. It was just a clinic, not a bad place, no need to be afraid, no one going to strap you down Buffy, deep breaths. Calm. Calm.

It was the same every visit. She just couldn't help herself. The smells, the noises, all the white, it gave her the heebie jeebies big time. But she could deal, needed to, for Willow's sake. Her friend needed calm- Buffy, together-Buffy, she did not need someone who leapt to her feet every time someone said 'medication'. An intern passed her, smiled hello and she managed a grimace in response. Breath, remember your breathing. Almost there now.

Clutching a now slightly sweaty bunch of tulips she pushed open her friend's door one-handed and took a welcome gulp of Willow-scented air. The familiar red head turned from the TV with a wary expression that quickly turned to one of blessed relief,

"Oh thank you! I thought it was Dr.Van Nostrum again"

Buffy rolled her eyes, sank into a convenient chair.

"Nah, he's headed in the other direction. Been doing the human pin- cushion again?"

Her friend curled her lip,

"No, worse. Now it's the questions. It's the...oh, how do you feel about society as a whole, Ms Rosenburg? Or...do you still think demons inhabit the earth, Ms Rosenburg? Do you still want to kill yourself, Ms Rosenburg?"

"That kooky doc. Always with the uneccesary suicidal thoughts questioning."

Willow met her eyes, her gaze steady.

"I'm OK, Buffy."

She wavered, so much pain there, always lapping below the surface.

"I mean, I'll never be OK. I know. But I'm coping. I can get out of bed now."

Putting her flowers down she took her usual seat beside her on the bed, Willow making room, moving the cereal bowl. They skooched up, a hand going automatically to the red hair, like with Dawn, smoothing, soothing her.

"I know that. I'm glad."

and they sat. Side by side, as always, one shoulder supporting the other in a comfortable silence, only disturbed by the muted sound of cartoons from the small TV by the bed. Buffy let the clock tick, tick, tick, soft and slow, listened to Willow's measured breathing slow, match her own.

So long. They had done this for so long it seemed. Every day, pretty much without fail, for the last four months now, she had braved the smell of antiseptic, the white coats, the pawing hands in the lobby, to bring what she needed more than anything else. Her love and support. She hoped that it would be enough to save her, to bring her back from wherever she had taken herself, so full of pain and rage that her best friend had been almost unrecognisable. There had been times, in the first few weeks, when she had begun to lose hope, but then there had been Xander and nothing could ever shake him in his belief. Willow was there, she was still in there and together they could find her, help her, heal her. All they needed to do was to love her and to wait.

And she knew the truth of it. Without both of them...she couldn't even begin to count the times they had made the difference for her. Making sense when no one else could, pulling her back from the edge, sometimes literally. Together they were her rock, her twin compasses, her Cowardly Lion and Tin Man, her Curly and Moe. She frowned. That last one didn't work so well.

Willow caught her, frowned in reply,

"Got cramp?"

She shook her head, smiled, resumed the hair smoothing.

"Nope. Just thinking. What would I do without my Willow?"

Cartoons mumbled, somewhere a vacumn hummed into life. A sound of laughter. The door slammed inwards and they both jumped.

Xander's dark shock of hair fell into his eyes as he hefted a bulky VCR under one elbow, a stack of tapes under the other. He froze, sweating, looked at them both, raised eyebrows.

"Little help?"

Guilty, they both leapt to grab something and he sank to his knees with relief.

"God, I'm so out of shape."

He gulped air as Willow re-seated herself cross-legged, went through the tapes.

"This is so great Xander! My own VCR! I can't believe I finally get to watch something other than Bullwinkle & Rocky."

"Bullwinkle's on?"

He was up and on the bed in a second, eyes pinned to the screen, a grin stretched from ear to ear. The girls exchanged a look,

"Xander, is that the only reason you come here? I thought you had cable?"

It was no good, they'd seen it all before. He was gone to them now, into full Xander-mode, reaching for a handful of the popcorn, munching, laying back full length on the bed, making himself comfy with his head in Willow's lap.

"Hmmm?"

Willow shifted, balanced her cereal bowl on his forehead, made with the Cheerios.

"So what's been going on? Any new nasties on the Slayer circuit?"

And they were here. She could dance around it but she knew they'd both see it in her face, a little surprised they hadn't already. Best to just get to it, yank it like a tooth.

"Spike's back."

Xander choked on popcorn, went first red then blue and suddenly all eyes were on him, hands slapping backs. Then the wheezing, the glass of necessary water, the questioning, more patting and all the time she could feel their curiosity, knew they'd just have to know everything. All the details she wasn't ready to give them yet, wasn't even sure if she was allowed to. Finally Xander managed to speak, still teary-eyed, his voice husky,

"and this happened when? While I was putting another hour on the car?"

Small sigh. Why did he always have to have it all, the times, the dates, who threw the first punch?

"Last night. I was going to call you but..."

"You thought you'd wait until my mouth was filled with tiny chokeable objects? Buffy...I thought we agreed..."

The accusation in his voice was there already and she hadn't even done anything yet. And wouldn't. Definitely wouldn't. There would be no doing of anyone, anything.

"Xander..."

God, sometimes she sounded just like her mom,

"It was late. I wasn't even sure you'd still be up."

He rolled his eyes, fell back flat again. Why bother. Willow moved hair away from his brow, stroked his fringe back, left her hand there.

"Buffy, it's your business. If you want to...forgive him. I mean if you feel OK about talking to him again, we're both fine about that. Aren't we?"

A stream of protests was halted by a single Willow-glare, no more discussion. It was Buffy's decision, right? She saw Xander bridle, ready with the vitriol, and her head began to hurt. She didn't know what she wanted to do yet. Forgive him or let him just disappear like he said he wanted to, but she knew one thing. She didn't need the patented Harris-two- penny-worth. Not now.

She saw him looking at her, beneath the righteous anger his eyes full of concern, and she watched him slowly relax, saw it miraculously dissipate. His reached for her hand, held it,

"Sorry, Buff. I'm sorry. Will's right. It's up to you."

She hoped the surprise wasn't as evident as she thought it was. Xander, giving her the benefit of the doubt? What was this? Wait, she knew this. Was there another Xander, outside, all full of vengeful jealousy?

"Wait..."it's up to me"? So what's the catch here?

He turned over, eyes back on the TV again.

"No catch. I just have...confidence in your decision making."

Willow shook her head, handed him back the popcorn.

"So what did he say? Did he tell you where he's been?"

Her curiosity was infectious and she noticed Xander turning the sound down a little, to facilitate the eavesdropping.

"He was in Africa."

"Africa!! Like Africa, with the lions and the tribesmen and...the heat, Africa?"

Willow's amazement mirrored her own of last night but Xander wasn't ready to concede his just yet,

"Had to see a demon about a dog?"

Buffy couldn't stop the smile,

"Actually, you're not far off."

Their confusion was evident and she finally caved,

"He went to find a demon someone told him could remove his chip."

Willow's face contorted with horror,

"Oh my God! He didn't...I mean...did he...?"

Her friend shook her head,

"No. He didn't. I mean...he changed his mind."

This time it was Xander turn to gape and she found herself enjoying it a little, on Spike's behalf. You see, you don't know his as well as you think you do, do you? The disbelief was all over his face, along with the suspicion and dislike.

"You're telling me that...Cujo chose...the leash over din-dins?"

He eyed her, made the face, the one that had always made her want to smack him. Like she was a fool for ever believing anything Spike had ever said,

"Who told you that? Did he? What else did he tell you? I caught a fish and it was THIS BIG!"

"Xander..."

Willows voice had the edge of ice to it, the one thing always guaranteed to silence the Harris-sarcasm-machine. Buffy folded her arms, studied the quilt.

"So, he didn't get the chip out? Well, that's good...I mean we're all agreed that's a good thing? Right?"

Always the peacemaker, cutting through to the core, Willow drew them back together, allowed her to continue. But she couldn't find the words yet, didn't know how to say it right. She could feel their eyes on her again, knowing there must be more.

"Buffy? He isn't...I mean he didn't try..."

Her head came up, eyes wide.

"No, no! God! He's so...."

she knew what the reaction to this one would be,

"He's so sorry about...everything. He never meant to...I know he didn't really mean to hurt me, before. He was just...."

"A vampire."

There. He'd said it. Without even knowing he'd put his finger on it, the one thing that could make the difference, between now and then. Between Spike and this unSpike, this William. The one thing she'd hadn't stopped thinking about for the past eleven hours. He was a vampire and now...he wasn't. He was her natural enemy and now, he wasn't. He was a evil, soulless creature and now....

Well, she didn't know. She didn't know him. She knew Spike, yes, she knew every inch of him, every nasty little twist and bend in his psyche, every thought about her that had ever entered his gloriously perverse imagination. But, William? Who was that? Not a stranger, he had Spike's brain, his memories, his face, but he was human, he was alive and her mind reeled again. How could this be? How could the two exist in one body? It was like vamping someone in reverse!

Xander watched her, gauging her reaction, testing the waters. Willow asked the question she could tell he was unable to, was afraid of.

"Buffy, you don't still...I mean you're not still...attracted to him, are you?"

"I don't even know him."

Xander let out a breath slowly, nodded once to reassure himself,

"And you don't want to...you know...get to know him?"

"Who?"

She was confused now, what did he know? Had she been thinking out loud a minute ago?

"Who?!? Spike!!"

She shook her head, suddenly remembered the real reason she'd come, felt in her pocket.

"Spike's dead. Willow, he told me to give you this."