Author's Note: Again, please review. I would really appreciate it because I haven't written anything in almost two years and I need to get my must back, so to speak.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Like a Man Possessed

Chapter 1

Silence filled the Magic Box as the sixth person walked into the room, her once lively demeanor now sullen and dark. "Hey, Buffy!" Willow tried to say brightly, her face falling when her friend made no response. The others didn't bother, knowing their greetings would fall to deaf ears.

"Well, erm, thank you all for coming, tonight," Giles started, addressing the group and bringing their attention away from Buffy. It had been over a month since Dawn's death, but her behavior hadn't wavered in the slightest since then. The Watcher didn't expect her to be done grieving—he would have been more concerned if her anguish was short-lived—but was troubled when it appeared the healing process had yet to begin. "As you all know, demonic activity has decreased immensely since… Glory's defeat." As the faces around the table nodded, Giles took off his glasses and began cleaning them. "I believe that the time has come for me to visit the Council and inform them of the events which took place."

"Will you be gone long?" Anya asked, her eyes gleaming at the chance to watch the store on her own.

"A week at the most," he answered. "And yes, you are to be in charge of the shop."

As the former demon clapped her hands with glee, the other Scoobies exchanged glances. Willow, Tara, and Xander had spoken earlier that evening about their concern for Buffy. Giles leaving, even for a week, made their worries a whole lot bigger.

"A-Are you sure you have to leave now?" Tara asked tentatively, glancing at the Slayer, who was sitting and looking at Giles with a blank stare.

The Watcher realized what she was referring to and gave an apologetic look. "Yes, well, unfortunately I have no choice. I've put this off as long as the Council was willing to let me, and they're now… demanding my presence." He didn't explain his reasons for delaying the trip, but they were obvious to the group.

Buffy barely heard their conversation, her mind a month in the past—staring into her innocent sister's eyes at the moment of her death. Buffy knew the others were worried about her, but she couldn't bring herself to alleviate their fears. None of them had tried to save Dawn as hard as she had; they had all believed that the only way to win was through her death, and to Buffy, that acceptance had led straight to her sister's fate.

It took her a moment to realize that she was being spoken to. "What?" she asked inattentively, still wrapped up in her inner turmoil.

"Willow and Tara were just asking you something," Xander said carefully, peering into her face as if to see what had been distracting her.

The witches exchanged nervous looks before Willow spoke. "Buffy, with… with Dawn and your mother gone, Tara and I were worried about you all alone in the house."

"We were wondering if you wanted us to stay with you for a while," Tara voiced softly. She gave Buffy a genuinely sympathetic look but said nothing more.

The petite blonde realized that it was now her turn to speak, so she cleared her throat brusquely. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'll be fine." At the skeptical looks she received from around the table, a spark of anger flared within her. "Really," she added emphatically, but to no avail.

There was a moment of silence, broken abruptly by Giles' nervous stammering. "Buffy, I know how hard this has been on you, and I'm so sorry that—"

"Don't," the girl said sharply, looking at her Watcher with an impassive expression. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

None of the others dared to speak. Buffy stood up quickly and walked out of the Magic Box without a single look back at her friends. There was nothing—nothing—that she could say to them at this point in time.

The vampire slammed the bottle forcefully down on his sarcophagus, smacking his lips loudly as he swallowed the large gulp he had taken. The dark crypt seemingly spun around him and he fell back, cradling the bottle in his arms before closing his eyes.

The same image greeted him every time he sought sleep, seizing his body with guilt and grief. He leapt up and swigged the amber liquid quickly, tears leaking from his eyes as he whispered her name.

The past month, Spike had barely left this room. Clem had visited several times, bringing him blood and trying to get him back to his normal self, but it was a useless attempt. The guilt he felt was all-consuming, and he had no way to alleviate it. The last time he had seen the Slayer, she was cradling her sister's body in her arms. She and the Scoobies hadn't come to see him once since Dawn's death, and although he knew they had never exactly been "friends," their abandonment had still hurt.

A sharp pang of anger pierced through his drunken thoughts. "They're bloody ungrateful, that's what they are!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and quickly pulling on his duster. "I'll show them," he muttered darkly, striding out of his crypt and heading on his way.

It wouldn't take long to reach Buffy's house, but he still hurried. It was early in the evening and she wouldn't be back from patrol for several more hours, but the vampire wanted to be there long before she was.

He would wait for the Slayer, and teach her a little lesson in manners.

A silent house greeted Buffy when she walked through the front door, laying her keys on the small table and walking straight up the stairs to her room. It was hard to believe—walking through the dark, silent house—that in happier times she complained about the lack of peace and quiet. What she wouldn't give to be ambushed by her giggling sister again…

Tears found their way into her eyes; seconds later, Buffy sank to a seat on the soft mattress of her bed, picking up a pillow and holding it to her chest. She was alone, and it was all her fault. Burying her face against the soft cushion, a cry escaped her chest. Soon after the first, a second and a third followed, and she was sobbing weakly, imprisoned in her own mind by the despair she felt.

The wide-eyed vampire stared through her bedroom window, perched ungracefully on the branch of a tree. His drunken mind suddenly cleared as he saw the tears cascading over her cheeks, a look of pure anguish etched into her features. A sick feeling wormed its way into Spike's stomach, not from his drinking but disgust with his earlier thoughts.

Buffy's small frame was nothing but skin and bones, now; the hair that Spike thought beautiful was limp and dingy. The girl wasn't just sick with grief, the vampire realized. It was as if she was dying from it.

Obviously, she wasn't letting anyone take care of her. Spike knew that Giles and the Scoobies wouldn't sit idly by and let their Slayer become so unhealthy. It was also apparent, though, that she did not wish for help or consolation. It was a frustrating situation to be in, knowing that Buffy protection but was unwilling to accept it.

Well if that was the case, he would just have to give her help without her realizing it. Spike climbed from the branch to the ground after Buffy disappeared from his sight, but he did not move to leave. Instead, he lit a cigarette and leaned against the tree, knowing that at least for that night his Slayer would be safe.