A/N: Inspiration strikes and us under appreciated authors are forced to write work that is not very vocally praised. Still, I am incredibly grateful to those who review, your opinions go some way to shaping my work. Not so much here, in this fic it has mainly resulted in my Author's Notes but still, it lets me know you care.

Disclaimer: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but legal actions will never find me ;P

Hi! I'm Buffy

William woke to find himself in a warm bed. It was so warm that he really didn't want to get up, but he was nothing if not an obedient boy and he knew that you had to get up when you woke up. He couldn't remember where, or why, but he was very certain about that. He regretfully pushed the covers back and slid out of bed.

He squinted around the room. It seemed a bit... feminine. He was reasonably sure that the room was familiar to him, but he didn't remember how. It was like there were massive gaps in his memory. Some things he knew with perfect clarity, and others simply didn't exist. So maybe this room was his, and he simply couldn't remember. Although... William was marginally sure he wouldn't pick such an effeminate décor, but seeing as how he couldn't remember differently, he might have.

Deciding against going through the closet and drawers, William exited the room and head downstairs. He stretched as he plodded down the steps, scratching his shoulder absently. He had that lethargic feeling you got when you'd slept so much you got tired again. That thought didn't quite seem right to William, but he was pretty much accepting everything his mind threw at him until it was proven otherwise.

He manoeuvred on auto-pilot, not really thinking about where he was going, until he found himself in the kitchen. He ambled to the bench and grabbed an apple out of the fruit basket on the end. Taking a bite out of the apple, he nearly had a heart attack when he sat in the stool and turned to see Dawn standing in the doorway, gaping at him.

"Dawn, you scared the life out of me" William assured her after his pulse and ceased racing. Dawn continued to stare at him, open-mouthed. "Uh, Dawn? That is your name, right?"

"Huh?" Dawn grunted as she came out of her stupor. "Oh, yeah. Hey! You remember!"

"Is there some reason I shouldn't remember that you're Dawn?" William asked bemused. He didn't remember Dawn being this flighty, but considering he couldn't actually recall much about her other than her name and the fact that he had looked at her fondly before... whatever caused him to lose so much of his memory.

"Oh, Buffy said you had amnesia and had forgotten almost everything." Dawn said as she surreptitiously wiped the drool from her mouth. Her eyes were still riveted to William, but he took another bite of his apple, lost in thought.

"Who's Buffy?" he asked after some thought. He had a vague idea of a small blonde, but little more beyond that. For the first time in the whole conversation, Dawn looked up at his face.

"Buffy's my sister, the Slayer. So you really did forget, huh?" William nodded his agreement, despite the fact it was probably unnecessary. "It was her room you woke up in. She put you there late last night."

William nodded slowly. He could remember certain things about a Slayer, vampires, magic, and he knew they were real. Still, he couldn't remember the Slayer specifically. Still, his familiarity with the room and the new knowledge that he was there with Buffy's permission, when added with the odd sense of embarrassment he felt whenever he thought about being in that room, the conclusion was obvious. He and Buffy were... close.

"Are we married?" he asked after a time. It seemed a reasonable question to his mind. William was fairly sure he was an honourable sort of fellow. It really was awfully mean of Dawn to just laugh like that. Eventually, she snorted out a negative answer. William was slightly shocked. He had been so sure he wouldn't do anything like that. Still, Dawn was in a better position to know things like that than him at this point.

As William finished his apple and threw out the core, he decided that he would enlist Dawn to help him remember or relearn some of the things he had forgotten. It was as he was leaving the kitchen on his way to the shower that he realised that, barring her laughing fit and her initial shock at the state of his memory, she had stared at his chest the whole time.

"Dawn?" he asked, pausing at the door and looking at the girl now making her breakfast. "Did I do something... odd this morning?"

"No, why?"

"You've just been staring at me all morning." It must have been William's imagination, for Dawn appeared to be blushing.

"I just don't usually see you of a morning." she choked out after a slight pause. William nodded. If he and Buffy were living in sin, that would probably make sense.

"I thought it might have been because I'm not wearing a shirt." Dawn's eyes came back to meet his and she laughed weakly.

"Silly you."

Spike cheerily, yet tiredly ambled through the Sunnydale sewer system to get back to his crypt. He'd been very lucky with his game of kitten poker, coming away with five tabbies and a Siamese. Normally he would have done even better with the hands he had been getting, but his woolly head had only gotten worse, and gradually his stomach had started to feel slightly unsettled.

Still, he'd traded his kittens to Willy and paid off his, considerable, bar tab and got himself three nice, shiny bottles of liquor in the bargain. Of course, with his stomach feeling this iffy, he wasn't planning on drinking any of that alcohol until he had a nice comfy chair to lounge in.

Spike entered the lower chamber of his crypt, taking off his duster and tossing it onto his bed, scotch bottles and all, and scrambled up the ladder to the crypt proper. Pulling a container of pigs blood from his mini-fridge before contemplating the difficulties of heating the blood. His head ached and his stomach felt unsettled and the blood would help cure that right up, but on the other hand pigs blood was bloody awful when heated and nearly intolerable when cold.

Shaking his head as the pain throbbed worse, Spike opened the container and quaffed the contents entirely, grimacing as he drained the dregs. Throwing the empty cup into a less visible corner, the vampire collapsed into his chair and closed his eyes.

When he opened them his head still ached, his stomach still swirled, only now it was night. Looking around slowly, he tried to figure out what the bloody hell just happened. He closed his eyes for a moment and hours passed. He was normally a light sleeper as well. It just didn't make sense.

Staggering to his feet, he dragged himself out of his crypt. His head was actively throbbing right now, but he didn't feel as bad as he had before his little impromptu nap. As he trotted through the crisp, night air he decided a spot of violence would clear him right up. He was already feeling somewhat better from just moving.

"What are you doing, Spike?" The vampire spun around, his fist shooting out by reflex before he dropped to his knees in agony as the chip fired sharply. He looked up through a haze of pain, and saw an incredibly brassed off Slayer staring at him.

He was shocked. He hadn't heard her, hadn't smelled her, hadn't known she was there. The Slayer was the one being who never surprised him. He had built his reputation on knowing Slayers. Well, on killing them, but he had to know them to kill them. He'd even fallen in love with this one, and he'd always known where his Dark Princess had been even without the bond that any vamp had to it's sire.

"What do you mean?" he asked intelligently from his place on the grass. It struck Spike as incredibly unlike him as he slowly rose to his feet. Normally, he knew the Slayer was coming from a mile off and he always had a snarky word or thirty lined up just for her. It must be this damned headache.

"Why are you even out? You're so obviously sick." the Slayer's voice rang out almost blankly. Spike snorted. Trust the Slayer to pretend to care for him. If she didn't, she couldn't very well play the martyr anymore, could she?

"Vampires don't get sick" he sneered at her again. When would she get it through her vapid yet adorable head? She just rolled her eyes at him and walked off. After stumbling over two headstones as he tried to trail her, he decided that perhaps she was right. Not about being sick, that was plain ridiculous - what disease would attack him? He was dead - but about him being out. He was clearly not in any condition to be out and about in Sunnydale.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Buffybot was having some difficulty. She was the Slayer. She should be out, slaying and protecting the innocent. She simply couldn't spend all her time pleasuring those three Adonis' at the Mears household, no matter how enjoyable and rewarding that experience was.

Of course, her programming was a little incomplete as to how she was to rescue the denizens of Sunnydale. They just didn't want to be rescued. When she had offered to rescue some of the people outside the establishment called the Bronze, they had looked at her oddly and one group of young men had made several lewd suggestions which, while sounding fun, did not seem very conducive to world saving. Her programming said she did that a lot.

Buffybot consulted her programming for options. She had a sister, Dawn Summers. She was fifteen now. She would help Buffybot in her Slaying duties while Buffybot remained a steady role model for her younger sister and be supportive after their mother's recent illness. It was with this resolve that Buffybot head off for Revello Drive.

When she arrived at her home, she found a note on the refrigerator from Dawn. It informed Buffybot of her plans to stay at a friends place. This was very vexing. How was Buffybot going to slay and save the denizens of Sunnydale if her sister did not help her? Still, someone must be in the house or the door would not be unlocked as it were. Heading upstairs, Buffybot heard the trickling sounds that came from when you were in the shower.

Cheery smile in place, she walked to the bathroom.

William rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. It had been a long day. Dawn had taken him to the Magic Box, a place he had no recollection of, to meet Anya and Xander, people he remembered fairly well. They had been joined by Willow and Tara later in the day, after their classes had finished. Tara he remembered fondly, Willow not so much.

Aside from Giles, who had apparently left that morning on Watcher business - William had disturbing memories of chains whenever he tried to remember the Watcher - and Buffy, who had class, dinner with friends and then Slaying - and William supposed it was better that that particular meeting happened in private. It had to be awkward to find out that your lover had forgotten you - William had met everyone.

Joyce had been at home for a few short hours, long enough to have dinner with William and Dawn, and the young Englishman had thought she was simply lovely. She was obviously a very caring person, looking after him as if he were her own and fussing over how young he looked - "You don't look a day over eighteen! I should try that spell, shave a few years off" she had laughingly joked - and she gave off an incredibly mothering vibe. At least, what he suspected was a mothering vibe. It may have been the vibe of a homicidal clown murderer for all he knew.

Of course, that part of the evening had to end. Joyce had a book club to attend, and Dawn wanted to go to a friends house. William was immensely grateful for her help during the day, surprised that she hadn't grown tired of him, and had added his support to her pleas. Dawn had seemed almost absurdly pleased at his support, and Joyce had cast her a curious look before granting the request.

After half an hour of watching the telly - one of the few things in his mind that had been unaltered, it seemed, by the spell had been his knowledge of the shows on television - he had decided to have another shower before going to bed.

Of course, he had to decided which bed he was going to be sleeping in. On one hand, he had woken in Buffy's bed and it was logical for him to return to sleep there. On the other hand, that mind send a message to Buffy that he was not fully prepared to send. He was sure that now, at least, he would want them to be married before resuming any... marital relations. William had decided that, regardless of what man he had been, he was going to be an honourable man now. So it was the couch for him.

Glad to have reached a decision, he turned off the shower and stepped out. While he was in the middle of reaching for a towel to dry himself off the door opened and revealed a short, attractive, athletic blonde who was staring at him grinning, seemingly unabashed at his nakedness. Buffy, he presumed. Still, he was moderately convinced that Anya would react to his nakedness in the same manner.

"Can I help you, miss...?" he asked as he felt his body flush hotly. This was not the ideal position to meet anyone in, he thought as he wrapped the towel around his waist tightly. The girl at the door continued to smile widely, almost disturbingly so.

"I'm Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. You're Spike!" the girl in the doorway declared. William goggled. At the name Spike he had an impression of bleach, leather and metal spikes. He briefly wondered what kind of kinky sex games - as Anya had so eloquently called them when talking about herself - he and Buffy had gotten up to, before deciding it was probably best he didn't know.

"Umm, yes. Buffy. I-You... I'm Spike?" William asked hesitantly, trying to approach the simpler questions first. Buffy nodded her head assuredly, smile still firmly in place.

"Yes," she declared in a tone far graver than the expression on her face would indicate, "you're an evil vampire turned in the late 19th century only now you can't hurt anyone because of a government chip in your head."

William stared at the diminutive girl still standing in the doorway blankly. It appeared they played a lot of role-playing games. "I- I am?"

"Yes. You are also in love with me, even though you have tried to hide it. You're very sexually attractive!" William backed away from Buffy very carefully despite the fact she was making no move towards him.

"Ah... yes. Umm, Buffy? Would you mind waiting in the lounge room for a minute? I think we need to talk."

As the pretty girl nodded and returned from where she came, William got dressed, his mind working frantically. He was not prepared for this.

A/N: I know, I know. It's pretty damn evil of me to have such a long chapter and do so very little in it, and to leave it there? Pure evil, I'm sure. Still, I've had both writer's block - in that I can't manage to express my ideas coherently anymore - and a whole lot of Real Life issues pop-up. It's really depressing and all, honest. Let's just say, an emotionally repressive boyfriend? Not so fun. Anyhoo, enough about my problems. I'll try to update faster but I am getting more pressure to update other fics. Also, I am aware that these messages of mine are long, probably useless and possibly unread but seeing as I don't actually have a whole lot else to do, suffer! I promise more Buffybot action in future, unless specifically and repeatedly asked not to do so. Review. Before I am tempted to take up Harry Potter fiction in an attempt to get more attention...