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All the Right Things

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"Buffy?" Willow asked as they were both lying in their beds, lights out and sleep prominent – at least for the blonde.

"Hmh?" she mumbled.

"I promise we'll do our best to help you," Willow said and Buffy opened her eyes, looking up at the shadow cast ceiling.

"Why do I get this feeling like there's something you're not telling me?" she inquired and there was a long silence before Willow countered:

"What do you wanna know?"

"What's the history here?" Buffy wondered, turning over on the side to look over at her friend. "Why am I in Sunnydale – forlorn and godforsaken wasteland of Small Town? Why didn't I apply to a good college – if not for anything else, then for getting the hell away from here? How did I ever stumble over such a someone as Riley and how come I'm obviously completely overlooking the unpolished gem of this Spike – who's got serious issues, by the way?"

Willow let the statement sink in before she thought "first thing's first" and began answering the string of questions with:

"Well, your mom and you moved away from Los Angeles because of the... violence. Sunnydale is... well, we don't have as much of the same violence. You almost went to another college, but then you chose to stay here... because of friends and family and things. And Riley is a wonderful, fun guy who really likes the you that's supposed to be here," she stated, adding: "And the you that's supposed to be here really likes him back. As for Spike... I know he's got issues, believe me. And you should stay away from him."

"Why? You left me with him."

"Yeah, but it wasn't something... I wouldn't have unless it was important, and..."

"Why didn't you even ask if I wanted to go with you?" Buffy interrupted. "You obviously don't think I'm able to take care of myself, and then you leave me with someone who... Yeah, what's so bad about him anyway? He did what you asked..."

"He did what I asked 'cause I promised him money for it."

"And why did you feel the need to do that?"

"Because he wouldn't have kept an eye on you unless I did."

"So you admit you don't think I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can, but I'm not sure if you know what 'taking care of' really means," Willow replied and Buffy propped her head up in one hand, leaning on her elbow and as she looked over at the other she suddenly realized that she could see everything in the room as though it was bathed in a soft light.

She furrowed her brow, checking the lamps on both of the bedside tables and concluding that they had to be switched off. Very weird.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she then reacted to Willow's statement.

"Trust me, you don't want to have anything to do with Spike. He may have his moments, but he's no... unpolished gem! In the end he'll turn on you and he'd sell you to the highest bidder without a second thought. He doesn't care about anything or anyone but himself, Buffy. Never forget that."

Buffy lay down again, almost carefully as thoughts were running wild in her head.

"How did I meet him?" she asked.

"Let's save it for another night, okay?" Willow merely said.

"Okay," Buffy murmured, closing her eyes but unable to shake the look in two blue eyes as they followed her into her dreams.

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The next morning Buffy found a note from Willow taped to her closet door. It read:

"I called you in sick today, so don't look too perky if you go outside. Your mom asked that you'd call her. Here's the number..."

Buffy jumped up and retrieved the phone straight away, dialing the number and waiting with rising anxiety.

"Summers residence."

"Mom?"

"Buffy! Are you alright? Mr. Giles told me that you... How are you, sweetheart?"

Buffy felt her eyes well up with unexpected tears as she sat down on the edge of her bed. She felt smaller and more alone than ever before and wished more than anything that this crazed adventure would prove over very soon.

"I'm okay," she said, voice streaked with her confusion. "I'm just... a little lost. But I'm alright."

"Really? I can only imagine what an ordeal it must've been to wake up in a strange place with strange people... I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"No, it's not your fault! You didn't know," Buffy disagreed. "And they've been nice to me. They've treated me good."

"Of course they have, they're your friends! Listen to Willow, Buffy, she's very smart and she loves you. She'll look after you. Or would you rather I came and saw you?"

"I don't think that's..." A thought suddenly occurred and Buffy trailed off, regarding it and then saying: "Or maybe... Maybe I should come home for a while? I can't go to class anyway, and I can't exactly move around freely on campus if Willow insists on me putting on the being-sick-act."

"I'll come get you right now, okay?" Joyce asked and Buffy smiled.

"Sure, mom."

Joyce gave a location for them to meet and they hung up. Buffy began to pack a small bag of necessities and was just finishing up when she happened to pull out one of the drawers of her desk and stopped dead. She stared at the various set of weapons and then grabbed a sharply pointed wooden stick, this just as Willow walked through the door.

"Oh!" Willow exclaimed, shutting the door quickly. "I see you found your... hobby."

"Hobby?"

"Carving."

"Carving?"

"Yes. Wood. Carving wood. You love it. Can't get enough of it," Willow assured and Buffy's eyes went to the stick still in one hand.

"I think – no," she said, throwing it on the desk and Willow was about to explain further when she noticed the overnight bag packed and ready by the bed.

"You going somewhere?" she asked and Buffy nodded.

"Mom's picking me up in like ten minutes. In front of the clock." Willow looked quizzical and Buffy elaborated with: "We thought it might be better if I went home for a while; until everything's worked itself out. I mean, you won't have to cover for me and I wanna see mom anyways, so... That's okay, isn't it?"

"Yes! Of course!" Willow nodded, smiling. "You should be where it's comfortable and I think it's a good idea. Totally. And I'll come see you. I can come and see you, can't I?" she added, sounding slightly unsure and Buffy laughed, giving her a quick spontaneous hug which made Willow smile back in clear relief.

"You'd better! I'll need to know where things are going," Buffy stated.

"Come on," Willow said. "I'll show you where the clock is."

Buffy smiled her thanks at that.

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Everything felt off.

So, this was her room.

Her clothes. Her make-up. Her hair. Her face.

Nothing felt like it was really hers. The first exhilaration at this incredible situation, at the amazing chance of jumping forward in time, was wearing off. She didn't feel like her body was hers anymore. She didn't feel like she fit in here. She had spent an hour trying to go to sleep, but something was pulling at her every time she closed her eyes. Something was making her legs feel achy and in need of a brisk walk to get the led out of them.

She had asked her mother about why they had moved here, but Joyce had avoided the question and when Buffy pressed for an answer the older had said that she had been advised not to talk about any details regarding the years of Buffy's life of which she didn't know anything.

What had been a consolation, though, was the way they had spent the evening. It was how they always had, and it brought back a little piece of recognition for the weary Slayer. However, that time had now passed and as she turned over in her bed for the fourth time in half a minute she finally kicked her covers off and rose to her feet.

Pulling on a pair of pants and a sweater she grabbed her jacket and carefully pushed open her window. She had noticed the large tree outside earlier, its sprawling branches should be perfect to use as means of getting safe to the ground. For a second an incredible sensation of déjà vu rifled through her as she swung one leg over the windowsill, but it passed and she let it do so as she made her way outside. Jumping to the ground she landed in the soft grass and straightened herself up.

She took a deep breath of the night air and felt how her whole being seemed to feel revived. It was an overpowering stir deep down inside and she felt like running without stopping for anything. She didn't though, but instead began walking toward the curb. Continuing she let her mind wander as it pleased.

She wouldn't have thought herself living in a place like this, but she supposed in a way it was pretty alright. She hadn't been able to find anything indicating that she still had contact with any of her Los Angeles friends... No letters, nothing at all. In a way she felt sorry about that. In another... A lot of them, she guessed, were pretty suck-y as friends. They just wanted to be near her because of her status at school. She hated that. However, she knew how the world worked, and if she could do something good for someone else – even if that was acting as a mere help toward popularity – then by God, she would do it.

She broke off to the left, walking through a tight cluster of trees and straight into someone's chest.

"Watch where you're going!" a voice she recognized, and which sent her heart galloping away, drawled. "Oh... it's you," he then grumbled and Buffy stared at him, utterly surprised and close to stupefied by that very feeling. "Good evening," he added, and she couldn't decide if he meant it or was only being sarcastic.

"Good evening?" she then asked. "It's like one o'clock or something," she added.

"Good morning, then," he shrugged, bringing out a cigarette and she watched him as he lit it with a lighter gleaming in silver.

Another flash of déjà vu which disappeared as quickly as it appeared and she blinked before she said:

"You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for you, or so I hear."

Spike smirked. He might be able to get used to this, her acting all nice and nurturing. It sure was something else than the fist-to-face attitude she always saw fit to carry with her otherwise.

"Well," he said, taking another drag and eyeing her for a moment before adding: "I don't have to think 'bout things like that."

She looked skeptical and his smirk grew.

"Wanna walk?" he asked and she seemed self-conscious for a moment, but then followed to come up and walk by his side. "Shouldn't be out this late alone, you know – isn't safe," he stated and she raised her eyebrows, disinterestedly. "You think I'm joking?"

"No," she replied. "But – as apposed to popular belief – I can take care of myself."

"No doubt," he nodded and she glanced at him as he finished his fag and tossed it aside.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Meaning?"

"Here! In this very small town in the exact middle of nothing," she elaborated as they reached an abandoned playground, and they proceeded to the swing set; Buffy taking a seat while Spike remained standing.

He seemed thoughtful and she wondered if she had said something wrong, then he snapped out of it and rested his gaze in hers. She smiled tryingly, but again he didn't return it. Looking away he then leaned against one of the steel bars holding the swings up.

"It's a long story," he finally answered.

"I've got time," she said.

"I don't," he bit off and she wished she knew what she had done to him that had him switch moods on her like that.

She wished she knew their history.

"Why are you called 'Spike'?" she asked and she could see that he smiled, but it wasn't a sunny one and it made her shudder in uncompromising unsettlement.

"I'm not gonna say I'm not enjoying this," he said, pushing away from the bar to stand and face her again. "This is the most vulnerable I've ever seen you – what's not to like about that...? But I think I'd better stay outta your way, love. And you outta mine."

She furrowed her brow.

"Could I just...?" she began, getting to her feet; but she trailed off as she looked up at him and into those two eyes that were like bits of crystal tainted unimaginably blue.

She had never seen anything quite like them.

He held her gaze and then broke eye-contact.

"Go home," he said, turning and walking away from her.

"Spike," she tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen and she watched him go with growing irritation and defeat. "Spike!" she tried again, and then she was suddenly on the ground, something heavy on top of her.

She screamed, kicking out and having it fly off her. Scrambling to her feet she faced something resembling a human in form, but its face... Her heart nearly stopped as she stared at the creature before her.

"Slayer?" it hissed and her eyes grew as it lunged for her.

"Get away!" she exclaimed, throwing herself to the side and rolling on the ground, staying down as she tried to see where the being had gone off to.

It was getting up after missing its mark and she looked around for some kind of weapon. Any kind.

"Buffy!" Spike barked, breaking through the foliage on the other side of the playground and she felt her spirit rise with new hope.

Thank God!

"What the bleeding hell are you doing? Get up! Fight!" he now bellowed and the hope was extinguished.

Was he kidding!

She let out another yap of fear as the creature again was approaching her at awesome speed. She wasn't sure how she got to her feet so quick, but without fully registering it she was up and as the creature once again attacked she felt her body tense and then her leg kicked out and hit it over the head. It flew to the ground, rolling around as she went after it. She was on automatic pilot and everything was a total blur, and before she could react her fingers were grasping a thick, broken-off stick, ramming it through the creature's chest.

It turned to ashes before her growing eyes and then she straightened her back, looking at the simple weapon in her hand before she dropped it to the ground.

She was shaking uncontrollably.

"What did I do...?" she mumbled.

Spike watched the shock building quickly on her. So this was what it had been like – her very first slay. It was unreal, to watch her like this. He fought to push the swivel of empathy off, but he wasn't successful and so he gently approached her. He was out of practice, but he carefully reached out a hand and placed it under her chin.

"You did good," he mumbled as she finally locked her eyes with his.

"I couldn't control..." she said, voice sluggish and he shook his head a little.

"No, it's a part of you, pet. This is who you are... You're not supposed to control it. I wish I could tell you to forget about it..." he said with a half smile and she returned it, which he figured to be a good sign.

"Why?" she asked and he watched her face for the longest minute, realizing that some part of him didn't want her to know.

"I should take you to Giles'," he then mumbled, taking his hand away and stepping back slightly. "The poof 'll have all the right things to say."

"I thought you just did," she said, and he looked away from her again, not replying to her sentiment as they got themselves moving.

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Buffy listened to the man known as Giles as he in very complicated terms tried to explain to her why she had just done what she did, why her reflexes had acted like they had and thus had saved her life. He gave her a speech he had already given her once, about the Chosen One. She stared at him as though he was insane. Finally he brought out one of those sharpened sticks she had seen in her very own dorm room and stated that it was in fact a weapon, a stake; used to kill vampires.

At the word she rose to her feet so fast that the chair she had been seated on toppled over.

"I don't know what you're playing at," she said, looking from Giles – to Spike – and back to Giles again, "but this is absolutely ridiculous!"

"Buffy," Giles began, but she just gave him another look, this one promptly silencing him, before she walked passed him and up to the front door.

"Next you'll tell me that Dracula actually exists, or that werewolves and monsters are lurking about. Is this what you meant by this town not being safe?" she asked, eyes on Spike and he started to answer when she interrupted with: "The only thing I need protection from seems to be you two loonies!"

With that she opened the door and walked through it, slamming it shut behind her.

There was a short time of stillness, the vampire and Watcher exchanging glances, and then Giles sighed:

"That went well."

Spike nodded.

"Above expectation," he replied before moving up to the door.

"You are going home, aren't you?" Giles asked. "You're not considering going after her?"

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow at that.

"Why the bugger would I do that?" he shot.

"Spike," Giles said and the vamp paused in the doorway, "it was good... that you brought her here."

"Oh, don't get all excited, Watcher, ain't like I'm looking to take over your job," he assured, and then he walked out the door.

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Buffy crept through the window of her room, shutting it softly before moving up to her bed. She lay down on it and curled herself into a ball. Shutting her eyes seemed impossible and she found herself staring at her window. She thought the shadows moving over it took the shapes of faces and soon adrenaline was pumping through her veins. She was wide awake.

A creek in a floorboard outside her door made her sit straight, drawing small breaths of air as she took in the doorknob. It stayed where it was, didn't move, everything was quiet; but her whole body was so tense she thought it might actually snap like a guitar string. The sound of something fluttering against the window made her give a small yell before she got off the bed and ran up to her door, opening it up she continued into her mother's bedroom and was under her mother's covers in a flash.

Joyce murmured something.

"It's just me," Buffy whispered. "I'm sorry, go back to sleep."

Joyce rolled over and met the wide eyes of her daughter, having a slight smile cross her face despite herself. She reached out a hand and touched Buffy's cheek before opening her arms and having Buffy move into a hard embrace.

"You haven't done this since you were a little girl," Joyce said and Buffy smiled as well, feeling how she was beginning to relax. "I guess I had almost forgotten that you used to do it... You're always so strong, sweetheart, so grown up..."

She trailed off.

"Mom," Buffy mumbled. "Do you know what the Slayer is?"

"Oh, honey," Joyce whispered, her hold tightening, "I was hoping you wouldn't have to go through this... not again. I was hoping that maybe... But that's me being very selfish and very stupid." She pulled back to have Buffy's gaze in hers before she said: "You mustn't be frightened, Buffy. We have had many talks over the years about why you are who you are, and you have always offered extremely good reasons for doing what it is you do. You may dislike it, but you do it none the less. And I love you for it, you know?"

Buffy swallowed.

"So... so it's true?" she asked, fighting back the tears of growing shock. "Am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare?"

Joyce closed her eyes, kissed Buffy on the forehead and then pulled her close again before she answered:

"Darling, how I wish it was."