The R version of this story is posted at aff.net. See the link on my profile page. I'm going the same place with both versions; the R one just has some extra material that is, well, R rated, and so far that's only in one chapter but by the time I'm done there'll be more and it might end up more than R. Which of course is why I'm posting a PG version here. I have no interest in breaking ff.net rules by posting material that isn't allowed. If you do check out the copy at aff.net, please leave a review there and tell me which version you prefer, and why.

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Last time:

Feeling Buffy's muscles tense under him, Spike hopped off her lap just before she stood up and rushed out of the room. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, so he crept out of the compartment well behind Buffy and watched as she hurried past Angel and into the front section to join Dawn. During the few seconds the door was open, Spike heard Dawn's eager question of, "Buffy, were you just making out with the Spike puppet? What was it like?"

He groaned and looked away, only to realize that Angel had caught every word. That settled it; he was never going to live this one down.

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"What did you do to Buffy back there?" Angel immediately asked. "It must have been something. She didn't look very happy when she went running past me."

Spike scowled and hitched himself onto the nearest seat. He wasn't going to answer. He refused to discuss the subject with Angel. If he ignored him, Angel would stop talking.

Only he didn't. "You must have done something pretty bad, then. Maybe I should go ask Buffy." Angel began to get up, obviously willing to go and have that conversation with Buffy.

Which was the last thing Spike wanted. "I didn't do anything to her. It was what she did to me."

"Yes...?" Angel prompted.

Too late, Spike spotted the trap that had been set for him. "Never mind," he muttered.

Angel raised an eyebrow. "So you and Buffy really were 'making out,' as Dawn put it? From her reaction, it couldn't have gone too well."

Spike looked down at his rumpled clothing, sighed, and shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm a bloody puppet now. And she didn't really want me even back when I was all vamp, so why would she now?"

"She tried, though, huh?" Angel mused.

Spike shrugged again. He definitely wasn't going to give Angel any details. That was just too much to ask.

There was a brief silence before Angel spoke again. "Nina did, too."

Spike's head snapped up. He stared at Angel. "What?"

"Nina. When I was a puppet."

"Oh." Spike turned away, losing interest. "I heard about how she turned wolfy and mauled you. Wish I could have been there to see it, but since I wasn't, what do I care?"

Angel shook his head. "No, that little incident isn't the one I meant. I'm talking about regular human Nina, and puppet me. We got kind of close for a while there."

"Close." Spike studied Angel. "You mean really close?"

"What can I say? She was curious. Can't blame her. I suppose Buffy was, too."

"Oh, all right," Spike relented. "You could definitely say that."

"Ha! I knew it!" Angel exclaimed. "She never would have looked like that if something hadn't happened between you two."

"It doesn't matter," Spike stubbornly maintained. "She regrets whatever might have happened and it's not going to go any farther. I know it. What do you care, anyway? You hate the idea of me and Buffy being together."

"I'm not too fond of it," Angel acknowledged. "But it doesn't look like I have very much say in the matter, especially now that Buffy knows you're back. She isn't exactly thrilled that I kept the truth from her. If she's forgiven you already, that means a lot. Besides, if the sight of you as a puppet doesn't scare her off, I guess nothing will."

On that note, they concluded the discussion about Buffy. Spike didn't even try to argue that he made a handsome and dignified puppet. He didn't believe it himself anymore. He wanted nothing more than to be transformed back to an ordinary vampire and forget the entire puppet disaster. How much longer was the flight going to take, anyway? He sighed, shifted, and tried to sneak a look at Angel's watch.

"It'll be a while," Angel informed him. He proffered a deck of cards. "Want to play poker?"

So for the remainder of the flight, Spike attempted to put together some winning hands. His efforts, though, were hampered by the fact that it was very hard to cheat when one possessed thick, awkward fingers that were ill-suited to stealing away good cards. Angel, suffering from no such handicap, kept beating him to it. By the time the plane touched down, Spike was sick of the game (he'd lost heavily) and eager to get back to Wolfram & Hart. He tossed aside his final hand of cards and disembarked from the plane with a feeling of great relief.

Buffy hadn't shown her face since "The Incident," as Spike privately called it. Upon landing, he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd simply stayed on board and demanded to be taken right back to Rome. However, when Dawn stepped off of the plane, Buffy was right behind her. True, she wasn't looking at Spike, but she wasn't fleeing in disgust, either.

Uneasily, the little group made their way over to the sunproofed car that was waiting for them. Because of the time difference from Rome, it was afternoon in Los Angeles, but of course Angel was safely able to drive them over to the Wolfram & Hart garage. The conversation in the car was minimal, and mostly consisted of Dawn asking questions and Angel answering.

Finally, Angel pulled into a parking spot near an elevator bank. Everyone got out of the car and onto the elevator for a quick ride, ending up on the same floor as Fred's laboratory was located.

"It's not too far," Angel assured Dawn and Buffy. "I called ahead, and Fred, Gunn, Lorne, and Wesley should be waiting for us." He looked down at Spike. "Want me to carry you?"

"No!" Spike snapped. No way was he going to stoop to that level. He still had a few tattered shreds of dignity left. He stiffened his back, stood as tall as he could, and strode forward on his short little legs, taking three steps to every one of Angel's.

A few feet behind him, he heard Dawn whisper, "Go on, Buffy, pick him up."

As he fully expected, Spike heard Buffy mumble an excuse. He began to trot more quickly, anxious to get to the lab and end his ordeal. It would be best for everyone. He stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice the amused looks he was attracting from the numerous people they passed on their way. There was the lab, hardly any distance at all now. And then they were inside, Angel holding the door open for Spike.

He stopped dead. Gunn, Wesley, Lorne, and Fred were indeed all there, staring at him. "If one more person calls me cute, or adorable, or sweet, or precious...." Spike allowed this warning to trail off.

Fred, who had been on the verge of speech, snapped her mouth shut. Wesley intervened. "We're all glad you're safe, Spike. We were concerned about you. Yes, even Angel. Especially Angel, I might say." He looked past Spike. "Buffy, Dawn. It's good to see you again."

The two moved farther into the room. While Wesley performed introductions, Spike looked around. Surely they must have a piece of equipment, some item, that they planned to use to fix him. He saw several possibilities; which one would be his salvation? He cleared his throat. The others all turned to look at him. "Well? Hurry up; change me back."

"Um, Spike, " Fred said hesitantly, "it isn't going to be quite that easy. We were talking about it, and we all think you should have changed back on your own by now, like Angel did. He didn't need any special intervention. We're really not sure what's wrong with you. But an examination might help us figure it out," she hastened to add.

"Fix me," Spike begged. "Whatever you have to do."

"Wesley and I will need to examine you."

Spike nodded. "Fine." Then he looked around. Angel, Buffy, and Dawn showed no signs of leaving. "Do we need an audience?"

"Oh! No, of course not. Just Wesley and me." Fred looked at the rest of the group. "I guess Spike wants some privacy. If you guys could wait outside? Maybe Angel can show you and Dawn around, Buffy."

Slowly, Gunn, Lorne, Buffy, Angel, and Dawn retreated. Once they were alone, Wesley and Fred turned to Spike. "We need to know everything," Wesley stated.

Over the next hour, while he underwent a physical examination, Spike related nearly every detail of his experiences that he could recall, omitting only a few of the more embarrassing moments. Fred and Wesley paid particular attention to the washing-machine-and-dryer saga, though neither would say if they credited his problems to that disaster. Finally they finished with him and looked at each other.

"What do you think?" said Fred.

"We'll have to try everything we can," replied Wesley. With that, he picked up the telephone and called several individuals. Within another two hours, Spike had been examined, chanted over, poked at, and displayed before a Charlak demon, a Siberian witch, two very ugly humans, a creature that looked like a slug with wings, and a priest from the Ylun clan. None made the slightest difference in his condition.

After the priest left, there came a rapping on the lab door and then Buffy burst in, followed by Dawn and Angel. "I can't wait any longer," Buffy announced. "What's going on with Spike?"

"As you can see," Wesley replied, "he is still a puppet. Unfortunately."

"I was fine before I opened that trunk in the storage room," Spike reminded him. "Something in the trunk did this to me. Bring that in here and it'll restore me, right?"

Wesley shook his head. "I'm afraid that's impossible."

Fred picked up the explanation. "Spike, the trunk was destroyed before we knew what happened to you. All the stuff in that room was. We can't use it to help you. That's why we tried everything else--the witch, and the demons, and the priest. To see if they could somehow help. Only they couldn't."

"What do you mean?" Spike demanded, a terrible feeling spreading from the pit of his stomach.

"We mean," Wesley said, "that we're very sorry, but you might very well remain a puppet forever."

TBC