Chapter 2

Buffy woke up with a splitting headache. With every breath, it felt as though somebody was ramming ice picks into her eye sockets. She groaned, and then instantly regretted that she made any sound at all.

Right, she thought, Buffy and booze are not mixy things. What had she done the night before? Fuck, she couldn't remember anything past the drinking, and the crying. The painkillers were just 10 feet down the hall, on the bathroom vanity. Which was about 9 feet six inches too far.

S'ok. I'll just stay in bed today. No reason why I have to get…Oh holy fuck! Despite the pain and the dizziness, Buffy bolted from bed, and ran down the hall. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet just as yesterday's meals spewed from her stomach.

She shuddered and gasped, and collapsed against the toilet. She was far too weak to stand up, and so she knelt there for what felt like hours, trying to gather her strength. She had a few more dry-wretches, but her body was completely empty.

I'm never drinking again, she silently vowed. And I mean it this time. Anything would have been better than this, including Cave!Buffy. I'll just curl up here and die. That's a good plan.

When her stomach had settled, and her head hurt slightly less, Buffy dragged her way out of the bathroom, and used the vanity to brace herself as she stood up. With shaking hands, she unscrewed the cap of the Aspirin. She offered up a prayer to whoever watched over sick girls with hangovers that Aspirin would work before she dry swallowed three. She hesitated, and then gulped down a glass of water.

Buffy stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Every movement reverberated through her head, causing constant shockwaves of pain. She was so lost in the momentum of her agony that she didn't notice her phonebook sitting out for nearly an hour. Then the black leather caught her eye.

"Why is that out?" She mumbled. "That doesn't go there."

She picked it up and examined it. Who did she call last night? Did she make drunken calls to her exes? No, that didn't sound right. Did she make drunken calls to her friends? No, because if she had, they would have come over and took the booze away from her. She glanced through the pages, hoping they would offer some clue. Finally she saw it. The number penciled in on the last page.

"Oh," she breathed, "Oh god." Oh no, no, no, no. Wasn't that part just a dream? That part had to have been just a dream. Did she really call him? Did she really plead with him to bring Spike back? Oh no. Oh god.

Buffy took a few deep breaths, her massive headache forgotten. It seemed so insignificant compared to the extremely massive stupidity she exhibited the night before. She would need to call Dorjan, and explain to him that it was just a mistake, she didn't mean it, and he didn't need to go through with it. 

She had to dial the number several times. Her pain may be forgotten, but her eyes were still far from focused and her hands were not completely responding to her commands. Finally, the correct numbers were dialed in the correct sequence, and the phone was answered after only a few rings.

"Dorjan?"

"Yes? Is this Buffy?"

"Yeah, we need to talk."

"Oh, I'd love to, but I can't right now. I'll call you later."

"But…"

"Later, Buffy."

Click.

Shit.

Buffy took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Dorjan wouldn't resurrect Spike if she asked him not to, right? If she absolutely had to, she could go over his head to Angel. Which was a cheap trick, but desperate times called for desperate measures. But it wouldn't come to that, she was sure of it.

What could possibly possess her to ask a witch to bring back Spike? Other than a great deal of alcohol, an intense feeling of grief, and a desperate loneliness, what could possibly possess her?

~*~

By six that night, Dawn was home, Buffy felt like a normal person again, and Dorjan hadn't called back.  Buffy tried to act as normal as possible, and not give away her extreme anxiety. Every time the phone rang, she jumped a foot and leapt for the receiver. And every time it was for Dawn. Twice she attempted to call him back, but the phone just rang and rang. Nobody answered, not even a machine or voice mail.

Buffy knew something was very wrong. She felt it in her gut. The thought drove her to distraction. She wanted to go out and Slay, but she didn't do that anymore. She wanted to beat something up, but there was nothing left to kill. She was tempted to march down to the law firm itself and storm the offices until she found Dorjan and made it clear that the plan was definitely off. If she didn't hear from him by the next morning, she would do exactly that.

Finally, just as she was prepared to go to bed, the call came.

"Dorjan? What took you so long?"

"Sorry, Buffy, I had a major lead." Excitement was dripping from his words, and Buffy could tell he was hardly containing himself.

"Look, about that…"

"You don't need to talk to Angel if that's what is worrying you. I found a loophole."

"Dorjan, I appreciate all of your hard work. I do. But I've changed my mind."

Dead silence stretched across the city through the phone lines.

"Dorjan? Are you still there?"

"What? You've changed your mind?"

Buffy swallowed, hard. His voice had changed, and now carried a distinct quality of menace. "I was drunk last night," she tried to explain, "I was out of my mind with grief."

"Do you know how hard I worked today?"

"No," Buffy admitted. "But I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"It's too late Buffy."

"What? What does that mean? Too late for what?" Panic made her voice climb an octave.

"I'm making it happen tonight. It was so much easier than I thought it would be."

"Dorjan, you cannot do this. Please, it's wrong. I'm sorry for all the hard work you did today, but please."

"It's too late," he repeated.

"You should have called me back! You should have talked to me this morning when I called you. This is your fault."

Buffy could hear the shrug. "You shouldn't have made a deal with a man you don't know." And for the second time that day, he hung up on her.

She lost no time getting dressed and rushing out the door.

"Where are you going?" Dawn shouted after her.

"Emergency!" Buffy shouted over her shoulder as she slammed the door behind her. She ran down the stairs, fumbling with her keys. Her hands felt numb, her heart hammered in her ears. A part of her was breathless with excitement, but most of her was absolutely horrified what she had done.

"I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath, "I'm so sorry Spike. God, please let me get there in time."

Buffy knew there was a chance that the spell wouldn't work at all, but she couldn't count on that. Dorjan had sounded so excited on the phone, so confident and cold. He definitely expected something to happen tonight.

She drove like a maniac through LA, careening blinding down the streets. She knew the route well, and she didn't have to give it a second thought. She could have driven those streets blindfolded. Dorjan's words echoed through her ears.

It was the wail of the police siren that pulled her out of her thoughts. "Fuck!" She shouted as she pulled to the ride side of the road. "Don't let him stop, don't let him stop, don't let him stop…" He stopped directly behind her.

"Good evening ma'am, do you have any idea how fast you were going?"


Buffy shook her head numbly, precious seconds slipping through her fingers as the police officer droned on.

"Is there an emergency, ma'am?"

"Yes!" Buffy exclaimed, maybe too loudly. "A huge, big, horrible emergency. It's my boyfriend…he's…dead."

Good, good, that was good.

The officer frowned. "Dead?"

Buffy nodded frantically. "Dead. Or dying. All I know is that I need to get to him."

"Well? Which is it? Dead or dying?"

"I don't know! Please, officer, I'm sorry."

"I have to give you a ticket, you were going 50 in a 35 zone."

"Ok, yes, that's fine."

"Can I see your license and registration?"


Buffy rummaged through her purse and her glove box until she found the requested documents and handed them to him.

"Looks like your license is expired."

"What?" Buffy gasped. "No, it expires on my 25th birthday. I still have two years to go."

"That's not what this says. It says it expired at the beginning of this month. Can you step out of the car Miss Summers?"

Buffy calmly and slowly opened the door and left the car. She hadn't used her Slayer strength in a few months, but she still had it. "Sorry," she mumbled, before pulling back and letting fly with a punch right to the nose. Her fist connected solidly with his face, and he stumbled back a few steps before dropping to the ground, unconscious.

She dragged him to his car and locked him in. Hopefully, that would keep him safe. She knew she would be totally fucked in the morning. He knew what she looked like and her name. But all that mattered was getting to Wolfram and Hart, and she still had 5 blocks to go.

She sped those final blocks, keeping an eye out for policeman this time. Angel had given her a special, reserved spot on the top floor of the parking garage, and she was out of the car before the engine was even off. It was only then that she realized she had absolutely no idea where to find Dorjan, or if he was even at the law firm.

Buffy knew her best bet would be to go directly to Angel. She knew him well enough to know that he would still be in his office. But if she went to him, she would have to explain the whole thing, and she didn't want to do that. She didn't know if she could do that. "Hey Angel, I went behind your back to one of your evil witches to ask him if he would resurrect Spike! So, what's new with you?"

If she couldn't go to Angel, who could she go to? Fred? No, Fred probably wasn't there. She wasn't really friendly when any of Angel's gang, and none of them would have any reason to help her. Except maybe Wesley. Perhaps he still had a bit of Watcher in him? And what Watcher could turn down a Slayer in need?

She made a bee-line to Wes's office. Well, it wasn't really an office. It was more like a small apartment. He kept a change of clothes there, a couch, and most of his weapons. Sometimes he spent the night there, and Buffy fervently hoped this was one of those nights. 

Buffy knocked on the door and nearly cheered when Wesley's gruff voice answered. "Who is it?"

"Wesley? It's me, Buffy. I need your help."

She could hear him moving about, and, was he talking to somebody? Oh god, it never occurred to her that he would be in there with somebody. He flung the door open. "What is it? Is someone hurt?"

"No, no not yet. Wes, I did something really, really stupid."

"You sure did, little girl," Lilah drawled from behind Wes. "What did you talk Drojan into doing?"

"Nothing," Buffy insisted. "I told him to stop. I told him I didn't mean it. He wouldn't listen to me."

"Stop what?" Wes asked.

"She's bringing back her lover," Lilah answered. "And he's using some pretty dark magic to make it happen."

"Do you know where he's at? Please, I need to stop him."

Lilah nodded. "Follow me."

She led them down the hall and to the elevator. "Does Angel know?" Wes asked once the doors closed behind them.

"No," Buffy answered, "And I don't want him to. I asked Drojan for help last night, but I was drunk and not thinking clearly. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"Drojan doesn't listen to anybody. If he agreed to help you, he had ulterior motives."

"What possible motives could he have to bring back Spike?"

"The rush," Wesley said softly. "He's doing it for the rush. It's an incredible power trip, that kind of magic. Nobody as powerful as Drojan could resist it."

For a moment, Buffy's knees were weak. Did she finally have her answer to the question that had plagued her for the past three years? Did Wes just unwittingly tell her what, exactly, had possessed Willow to bring her back? No, Wes didn't inform her of anything, just confirmed what she already knew.

"I can feel it," Lilah said. "We're too late."

"How much longer?"

"We're here." The doors slid open and Buffy braced herself to see something horrible, but it was just an empty hallway. "Last room on the left."

Buffy sprinted, Wesley following quickly at her heels, and Lilah walked behind them sedately. It took all of Buffy's considerable strength to force the heavy door open.

"You're too late," Lilah repeated just as the door fell open. Lilah's words were drowned out by Drojan's ecstatic shout of victory. "I did it!"

His shout was followed by a loud clap of what sounded like thunder. Buffy was just in time to see Drojan fly across the room just as a naked body appeared on the table in the middle of the room.

"Wesley, take care of Drojan!" Buffy shouted as she rushed to the table. They weren't too late. He just had the body, not Spike's soul. It would be ok.

The body stretched before her was pale and thin, his lips blue. Sandy brown curls fell into the ashen, taunt face. Buffy's heart leapt to her throat. It looked like Spike.  She was going to lose him again.

"Oh, Spike, I'm so sorry," she whispered. She leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the body's lips, just as he opened his eyes.

"Miss?"

Buffy jumped back. "Spike?"

He shook his head. His voice was hardly a whisper, and Buffy could only hear him due to her proximity to him. "Who?"

Oh. God. "William?"

He nodded before his eyes fluttered shut.