It started simply enough: a letter arrived from the high school reminding her that the parent-teacher night for the second semester would be held the following Thursday night. Buffy couldn't understand why it should send such a cold tremor of fear through her - it wasn't her academic progress being scrutinized any more. So why, she wondered, did she find herself clutching the letter so tightly that it crumpled and tore in her hands? Buffy set the mutilated paper down on the kitchen counter and took several deep breaths, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.
Unbidden, those thoughts turned to Spike. She hadn't seen him even once since the chaotic events of the previous week, since she'd told him yet again to get out of her life. He'd failed to turn up during her routine patrols, and she supposed she was glad he'd gotten the message at last to stay away from her. Her mind's eye could see him in the school on her parent-teacher night - that explained his intrusion into her thoughts, at least - but why should she remember him coming to her aid? Buffy shook her head to thrust the unwelcome thoughts away and set about collecting the week's laundry from hampers around the house.
Once the first load was in, Buffy settled at the table with the newspaper's classified section, looking for another job. Just no fast food this time, she promised herself. The majority of the afternoon passed between dealing with the loads of laundry and a number of preliminary phone calls, mostly unsuccessful. There has to be some way a girl can earn a living in this town, she complained to herself. Besides that one... she amended. She remembered how Spike had leaned forward over the counter at the DoubleMeat Palace and offered to get her money. And not that way either, she admonished herself. That's almost as bad.
"I don't need this," she muttered darkly to herself.
"Don't need what?" asked a voice from the doorway. "A life? Sure you do."
Buffy jumped and turned sharply in her chair. "Xander," she complained, "do you have any idea how close you are to being strangled with a dryer sheet? Don't sneak up on me like that."
"Buffy the Laundry Slayer," he intoned mock-seriously. "Nope. It lacks that certain something. Like dignity. You are in serious danger - of not having a life."
"Tell me about it," she replied in frustration. "The most challenging thing I've done all day was when I had to choose between regular or permanent-press for the wash. And don't even get me started on the virtues of the dryer's fluff cycle," she added, throwing up her hands. "God knows the job market's hopeless."
"Hmm... a serious case of hausfrau syndrome. This sounds like a job for the Xandman," he said, taking on the plummy tones of any one of a dozen over-muscled animated superheroes. "Delivering a life to all those tragically deprived-"
"And your point?" she interrupted testily. "As I am painfully aware of my pathetic state."
"I thought you might like to catch a movie with me tonight," Xander said in his own voice again.
"Where's Anya tonight that you're not heading straight home?" she asked, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of that relationship.
"Bridal show," said Xander glumly. "All weekend. I'm not sure she's forgiven me yet for running off with you in your dreams. But it's the opening night of 'Blade II'," he said, brightening again. "You should love it."
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Buffy said, with a sceptical look. "Isn't the point of seeing a movie to get away from your everyday experiences? Because I'm not really sure that film is going to do it for me. Vampire hunters?"
"It'll be great," he insisted. "You can think of it as a comedy. You know - you can laugh at everything they get wrong and talk back to the screen telling them what they should have done." Seeing that she wasn't buying it, Xander played his trump card. "Come on, Buff. You're the closest thing I've got to a guy friend who would appreciate this movie - because there's no way I'd ever invite Captain Peroxide to go with me."
"Gee, thanks," said Buffy wryly. "I think." She couldn't help but wonder what Spike would think of the film. He'd probably jeer it louder than she would, she decided.
Xander mistook her introspection for reluctance. "If it's money that's the problem, I'll even spring for it - it's payday today. Dinner and a movie. How about it?"
"Oh, all right," she conceded. "The whining level in here was reaching Dawn-like proportions any way." Buffy looked around guiltily, making sure her sister wasn't home yet to overhear this comment. They were on speaking terms again, courtesy of a planned shopping trip in the morning, and she didn't need anything to disturb the delicate balance they'd achieved.
"I resemble that remark," Xander replied cheerily. "I have to run a couple of errands, then can I pick you up in about an hour?" Buffy nodded her assent, and he was off.
It's just as well, she thought to herself. Better than an evening alone. Dawn had made plans to have dinner and watch videos at Janice's for tonight anyway - confirmed with a phone call to her mom and plans for a ride home at ten, thank you very much - and Willow and Tara were still so wrapped up in their newly-salvaged relationship that they'd probably appreciate the chance for some privacy. She left a note in plain sight on the table detailing her plans, then tossed the last of the folded laundry into the basket and carried it back upstairs to get herself ready.
**********
Buffy settled herself more comfortably into her seat after the usual run of commercials and indifferent previews and got ready to give the vampire hunter feature the benefit of the doubt. The film opened on a dark cityscape of church spires and centuries-old architecture mixed with the modern conveniences of neon lights and public transit. That's Prague, she thought, moments before the setting was identified on screen. Her hands tightened on the armrests of her seat. How did I know that?
Xander sat beside her, oblivious to her inner turmoil, alternately scooping handfuls of popcorn from the extra large bucket wedged between them and slurping his drink noisily.
A barrage of images and sensations flooded her mind. Spike struggling along a street much like the one on screen, evading pursuers. Promising someone he'd never leave. Stacked... bodies? A terrible fear of being discovered. Then it changed. She was comforting him as he wept because he thought she had died. Fighting beside him, knowing she could trust him with her life.
Buffy felt more and more as though the entire film had been drawn from her life - or nightmares. The leader of the vampire nation could have been the Master, complete with bathing pool of blood; the vampire hunter was forced into alliance with his enemies against another, more powerful foe; he experienced growing respect and... love... for a vampire - Buffy clamped down hard before this train of thought could travel any further. This is all just make-believe she insisted repeatedly to herself.
Xander, on the other hand, seemed to be having a wonderful time, cheering loudly each time a vampire was dusted - more spectacularly than ever happened in reality - and jeering when something didn't agree with what he knew. "Will you look at that!" he complained one time. "Everyone knows that silver is for werewolves, not vampires - and how come that vamp's wearing a cross?"
Buffy was happy to let him vent since it meant he couldn't see how profoundly she was being affected by the film. Thoughts and emotions tumbled wildly out of control in her mind. She hung on grimly to the end.
"Man, why don't we have weapons like that?" was Xander's first comment as they drove away from the theatre. "We could kick some serious butt here."
Buffy roused herself from her inward-turned thoughts long enough to reply. "I guess that's why only girls get to be Slayers - they don't tend to go all gadget crazy. The budget of the Watchers' Council would never stretch that far. I could kind of go for the leather gear, though," she admitted.
Xander sniggered. "Whatever you do, don't say that around Spike. He's obsessing enough about you now; show up in leather and you'd stop his heart - if it were beating in the first place, that is. Though you know, that's not a bad idea - if you could actually do him in that way."
Buffy smiled wanly. She rather thought she knew what Spike's reaction would be. A stunned stare, frank admiration, then every ploy imaginable to get her out of it as quickly as possible. "Xander, stop the car," she cried suddenly, as they passed the graveyard where Spike's crypt lay.
He complied instantly, sending both of them forward sharply into their seatbelts. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked urgently.
"Nothing. I just... I need to go. I need to tackle a few vamps myself tonight, I guess."
"Want some company?" he asked.
"No, I'll be better if I have some time to myself. Thanks, though," she said, as she climbed out of the car. "And thanks for a great evening," she lied sincerely.
"I'll tell the others where you've gone," he promised, before driving away.
Buffy set off purposefully into the graveyard but stopped and leaned heavily against a crypt as soon as Xander had pulled out of sight. She slid down the stone until she was sitting with bent knees, and leaned her head forward wearily into her hands.
I would kill for you.
I would die for you.
I'd follow you anywhere.
Command, obey.
You'll have to dust me before I let you get to her.
Nothing had changed, except that everything had. If the memories triggered by the film of her ordeal at the hands of the Nightmare Master could be trusted, then she owed Spike, owed William, an apology. An apology for the way she had treated him when they emerged from the dreams, and an apology for what she had tacitly assumed his motivations had to be in coming after her. She wasn't looking forward to it, but if she was going to be honest with herself, it had to be done. Buffy climbed back to her feet and set out for Spike's crypt.