DISCLAIMER: Whedon's characters, any recognizable dialogue, and the canon events of their storyline are not mine.

A/N: 19 September 2017

Chapters 13-18 have been edited down significantly.

The basic plot/storyline/character arcs remain the same as the original version.

[

A/N: 8 July 2016

See Chapter 12.

In this installment: there's a memory wipe, hot cocoa, handcuffs, a love letter, a house in need of repairs ... not necessarily in that order.

This chapter corresponds to #6.8 "Tabula Rasa"

CHAPTER 17

if memory serves

Giles called Buffy's house rather early on this Saturday morning. Although the younger members of their group – which would be everyone but him – had stayed out late last night, he felt that it was well past time to solve this nonsense. He loved musicals more than the average straight male, but even he could not help but think this thing had become a ridiculous nuisance.

Having four girls in one house, those living on Revello Drive took longer to get ready than Xander and Anya together at their apartment or Giles who was on his own. When Buffy, Tara, and Dawn were ready to go, Willow was still wrapped in a towel, fresh out of the shower.

Willow said to them, "Go on without me."

Now alone in the house, she waved her hand as she said, "Vestiuntur et ornantes." In an instant, she was dressed and accessorized, hair and makeup beautifully done.

Willow went down to the living room and pulled a bag from the back of a cabinet. Taking a small piece from the bag and placing it in the fireplace, she struck a match and set fire to the dried flower. As it began to burn, she removed a clear crystal from her pocket.

"For Buffy and Tara, this I char. Let Lethe's Bramble do its chore. Purge their minds of memories grim, of pains from recent slights and sins. When the fire goes out, when the crystal turns black, the spell will be cast. Tabula rasa, tabula rasa, tabula rasa."

When she turned to leave the house to meet her friends at the Magic Box, she left the bag full of additional Lethe's Bramble next to the fireplace – a rather forgetful and careless thing to do.

[

At the store, Giles talked at length – using large words and the occasional incomprehensible term – about how they needed to go about solving the remaining part of spell. He had some conjecture, but the summation of his speech: it was possible that they might need to just let it run its course. However, they should give it their usual valiant effort – at least, a reasonable attempt to bring resolution.

As their discussion concluded, Spike rushed in through the front door, still in the cape and tux he had been wearing last night. After Xander joked about his attire, Spike explained that there were some demons lurking near his crypt last night – so he slept elsewhere and avoided the tunnels. Since he started helping The Slayer fight the evil in this town, he had more enemies than friends in the demon community.

Spike walked over to sit on the ladder that goes to the loft where the darker texts were kept. Buffy joined him there.

There seemed to be a collective decision to take a brief respite from problem-solving. They each drifted toward something to do or someone to talk to. Anya and Tara were on the customer side of the counter, sitting on stools and looking at photos in a wedding magazine. Xander and Dawn were looking at items on a nearby shelf, while he asked her how school was going. Willow and Giles were on the far side of the round table. Giles was trying to show her what little he had found, to reinterest her in old-fashioned solutions that involved research rather than magic, but Willow was distracted and found herself staring at Tara.

[

Back at 1630 Revello Drive, a stray spark leapt from the fireplace, igniting the extra ingredients left nearby on the hearth. The fire burned a bright green as it took its intended effect … and then some.

At that moment, the Scoobies fell into a spell-induced slumber at the Magic Box. They would continue to sleep for hours.

When they awoke, one of the first things they did was look for anything that would indicate their names and relationships to one another. Willow, Tara, Rupert, and Alexander each had a driver's license or student ID. Dawn was wearing a personalized necklace. Anya found her name on paperwork behind the counter. The two without names had awakened next to each other and decided they would choose names for one another.

"Well, something about a man in a tux always makes me think of 007," the nameless blonde said admiringly.

Spike straightened with pride and said flirtatiously, "Think I look like James Bond, do you? I can live with that. James, it is. Now, for you …"

But before he could finish his thought, they heard voices outside the store – taunting … and singing.

Buffy rushed over to look out between the blinds. "Monsters of some kind. I see pointy teeth." Turning to the others, she added, "I think there are vampires at the door."

No sooner had she said that, the monsters burst through the door. Something in her told her to pick up a wooden stake that was sitting on the table. She instinctively impaled a vampire and he turned to dust before their eyes. The others fled back out into the street.

James stated what all of them were thinking: that the nameless blonde was some sort of action hero – like Sarah Connor in Terminator 2. He decided to call her Sarah.

Still on a bit of an adrenaline high, Sarah took charge. "I've got a plan. They seem to want James. And I seem to be pretty strong – wicked strong. The rest of you guys go through the sewers to get to the hospital. James and I'll give the monsters a run for their money."

"Time alone with you? No complaints here," said James.

Sarah blushed and swatted his arm playfully. "We need to get serious or someone could get hurt."

The others went searching for another way out and found a trap door in the basement that led to the sewer tunnels.

When superhero Sarah and James Bond ran from the front door, there was a new group of demons coming to ransack the store. She had been right – they were after James and followed the two of them away from the magic shop. She was glad the others would have a chance to get to safety. Her primary plan was to delay the monsters for as long as possible. They zigzagged through side streets and alleys, yards and parks. They would stop every once in a while and hide behind a tree or in a shadow against an alley wall. During these moments of hiding, James would take the opportunity to flirt with Sarah while they were huddled together.

He tilted his head to whisper in her ear, "I've come to the conclusion that this strategy of yours has less to do with misdirecting the bad guys in an effort to keep the others safe … and more to do with you having an excuse to be up close and personal with me. For the record, luv, you don't need an excuse. You could just tell me that you want to press yourself against me. I would happily oblige. Or better still, just do it – what you're doing now – but without the pretense."

She turned her head to whisper her reply, "What are you talking about?" Her mouth was now mere inches from his.

"Just think of it – imagine how much we could do to one another in even a few stolen moments." He pulled her tight against himself. "Tell me this isn't what you wanted – to be pressed up against me. I'm rather enjoying it myself. It's the standing still and fully clothed bits I could do without. Any chance …?"

"You should stop right now."

"Should I, Sarah? You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. You forget yourself." She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes threatening to bug out her head. She removed her hand just long enough to say, "What was that?"

He shrugged and said, "Singing." Then, he leaned in toward her again. "You're like me. I'm never satisfied."

"Is that right?"

"I have never been satisfied." [1]

"That sounds like a personal problem to me, James. You may want to have that checked out."

"Are you volunteering?"

"A world of no."

Seconds later, the group of demons ran past. The bickering pair jumped out from their hiding spot and ran a block in the other direction. They found another place in which to hide and did not see their pursuers for several minutes. Eventually, they stepped out from the shadows to look around. They saw a van nearby.

Inside the van there was a vigorous debate underway: which actor was better as 007. The three young men had gotten so engrossed in making their arguments that they had stopped paying attention to the surveillance monitors, which was the reason they were out here in the first place.

Just then, Jonathan noticed movement on one of the screens behind Warren's head. "Hey! Stop it, guys! Look!"

Andrew turned to look. "Oh, she's coming over here! And Spike is with her … wearing a tux. Wow, the guy looks good in anything. You know, with the accent and all … I bet he would make a great James Bond."

Jonathan and Warren exchanged glances and both slapped Andrew on the back of the head.

They quickly formulated and executed a plan. Moments later, a creature came around from the other side of the van to intercept Buffy and Spike. When she began swinging, she aimed at his head, but her hand just passed through him as if he were a hologram. When she aimed for his torso, she made contact which seemed to wound him. He doubled over and whimpered in pain as the van began to pull away. The creature staggered and stumbled to catch up with the vehicle, disappearing from their view.

A short while later, the vampires found Buffy and Spike. As they were being chased, they headed toward Buffy's neighborhood, though they didn't recognize it. The fight they been avoiding now caught up with them.

Initially, it was six on two, but Sarah and James quickly dealt with four of the vamps. This left two vampires against the two "action heroes." The fight progressed a few driveways down until they were at Buffy's house.

Spike got in a couple of good hits before the vampire he was fighting picked him up and threw him toward to the house. He flew through the window, sending shards of glass in every direction. Landing on and then bouncing off the couch just inside the window, he quickly got to his feet, yelling to the vampire outside, "Can't get rid of me that easily!"

Buffy heard this and turned to look. What she saw was someone wearing a tux who from the neck down resembled James, but now had the face of a vampire. As Spike climbed through the window to finish off the vamp who had thrown him, he felt changed somehow. After trading a few blows, Spike threw the other vamp away from the porch, where he fell on Buffy who impaled him on a picket from a nearby fence. She coughed as the dust settled on and around her.

Spike leapt off porch to help with the one remaining vamp, but when he landed where she had just dusted the other, she hit him while shouting, "James, or whoever you are, get away from me."

"You hit me! What did you do that for?" He turned quickly and dusted their last adversary.

His attempt to help did not change her plan of attack. She continued hitting Spike, finally provoking him to hit her back. After several swings (some hits, some misses), Buffy managed to grab his arm as it came flying toward her. She flipped him onto his back and sat on top of him, straddling his torso.

"Bloody hell! What are you doing?"

Realizing that he did not know he was a vampire, she instructed him to check his forehead and teeth. He was as surprised by this development as she was.

[

Meanwhile in the tunnels, the others had continued moving from one shadowy hiding place to another, sometimes barely avoiding being caught. Giles leaned out of their current hiding spot and breathed a sigh of relief as he signaled to the others that they could come out. They decided to backtrack a little, until their surroundings looked familiar. Then, they would continue on the path they had determined would take them to the hospital.

But before they could follow through on that plan, the spell was ended. As Willow had been climbing down from where they had hidden, the crystal fell from her pocket. In the process of assisting her down the last few rungs of the ladder, Xander stepped on and crushed the crystal, which changed back to its original whitish color.

As their memories returned, the pairings readjusted. Xander went over to Anya. Giles checked on Dawn. Willow reached out to Tara, who recoiled. Although no one said it aloud just now, they were all acutely aware that Willow had performed the spell that had caused this – and that there would be fallout.

[

Just before the spell was broken, Spike had propped himself up on his elbows and was moving as if to kiss Buffy, who still straddled him. As their memory returned, she immediately got up.

Brushing herself off, she said, "Why don't you get the broom and dust pan and start cleaning up the glass from the broken window. I'm gonna go check on the others."

The events during the spell were beginning to come back to Spike – in sharp focus. "Buffy. I'm sorry … about earlier … if it hadn't been for the memory wipe, I wouldn't have said—"

Avoiding eye contact, she replied, "Later. Not now." She began to run down the street as fast as her feet would take her.

While Spike swept up the glass on the porch, he muttered to himself, "Things were going splendidly – and then, bang zoom … another spell comes along!"

[

Buffy arrived at the door of the Magic Box just as the others were coming out of the store. Looking them over and seeing no evidence of bodily harm, she still felt the need to ask if everyone was alright.

Giles replied, "Everyone's fine – relatively speaking." He gave Buffy a look that told her something was wrong. Then, he glanced over at Willow, whose expression and body language were filled with sorrow and regret.

Buffy took that in, but moved on. "Wish I could say the same for my house. Xander, can you come patch up the front window? I think we still have the plywood from the last time."

Xander nodded and said, "Some things never change, do they? I mean it's nice to be needed and all, but I wouldn't mind terribly if you stopped needing me in this capacity." He paused. "Yeah, I don't see that happening either."

When they arrived at the house, Spike was still working on cleaning up the glass and warned everyone that they would need to be careful in the future, just in case there were pieces in the upholstery that he missed.

"Thank you," Buffy said as she passed by Spike.

"You're welcome," he said with affection in his voice. He gave her a smile and a nod before getting back to work.

While Xander put up the plywood, his mind wandered. Spike saw him shake his head and laugh to himself.

"What's so funny?" Spike asked him.

"I was just thinking that this now makes two times that Willow did a spell and the two of you coupled off while under its influence. Why is it that you so easily fall into each other's arms? Something you're not telling us?" Xander meant it as a joke, however he was not far from the truth.

In the kitchen, away from the activity at the front of the house, Giles talked to Willow. As one might expect, she became defensive, refusing to receive wisdom and counsel from him. She walked away from that conversation, intent on beginning one with Tara. Willow pressed the issue, though Tara was not ready to talk to her. They wound up arguing briefly before Tara sang about the heartache she was experiencing. She backed away from Willow, heading to their bedroom to pack her things. She had made up her mind that things could not go on like this. She would have to leave.

Everyone in the house stopped what they were doing. They looked at each other, asking with their eyes: Had everyone else heard that? They had, but none of them knew what it meant.

There had been one single chime.

After the living room was cleaned up and window covered, Xander packed up his tools and Dawn put away the cleaning supplies. Willow was sitting by herself, inconsolable. Tara had quietly taken a few boxes and departed a while ago. Anya and Giles were in the kitchen getting food out for themselves and the others. Buffy and Spike were left alone in the living room.

Buffy looked at the boarded-up window, the fabric of the couch, anywhere but directly at Spike. Recognizing that late night was quickly becoming early morning, she suggested, "You should probably go before the sun starts to come up."

Softly, he said, "I can stay."

"Not necessary. It's been a long night. Plus, there's a lot going on here right now."

"Buffy, we should talk."

"If I had a dime for every time you said that." She sighed and then looked up. "I know. We will. Later."

[

[

The next day, Buffy went for a long walk. For a while, she sat on a park bench, pondering and sorting through the thoughts that had plagued her since the previous night. Throughout her time alone, she went through many songs and internal monologues.

She had realized it last night – that Spike had hit her. More than that: he had hit her without experiencing the chip-inflicted pain that occurred when he hit a human. She had been trying to figure out what this meant. She had a few thoughts – all of which she was hesitant to say aloud. She also hoped there would be an explanation other than the ones she was presently considering.

Unsure who she could turn to with this dilemma, she visited her mother's grave. At first, she pulled a few weeds near the headstone, just to have something to do with her hands. Then, she sat, leaning against the stone and tracing the lettering of her mother's name with her index finger.

"Mom, I really need you right now. I really wish you were here." She dropped her head and sobbed. "I've been good and I've been kind, Mother – doing only what I learned from you. Why then am I left behind, Mother? Is there something more that I should do? What is wrong with me, Mother? Something must be wrong." [2]

She was unsure how much time had passed when she finally stopped weeping and stood up to walk home. She brushed the grass from her jeans and attempted a smile, as if to let Joyce know that she need not worry about her daughter.

[

Just before sunset, Buffy stopped at home to have a quick meal and to let Dawn and Willow know that she would be heading back out. She had told them that she was going to patrol – which was partially true, but mostly she still needed to clear her head. She also needed to talk to Spike. She was not sure if talking to him would help to clear her head … or if it should be cleared before she tried to talk to him.

When she got to the door of his crypt, she stood there for a few moments trying to decide whether she should knock or not. Just as she raised her hand, the door opened.

"Would you like to come in? Or were you planning on staying outside?" Spike leaned against the doorframe, trying to act casual while feeling anything but.

Buffy indicated her raised hand and said, "I was just about to knock."

He stepped to the side to allow her entrance.

As she moved past him, she said, "I figured we should talk about ..."

"Yeah, about that … I'd like to blame it on the fact that none of us knew who we really were, but the fact of the matter is – and you probably know this by now – I am rather attracted to you. But even so, the flirting did get a bit out of hand. An official apology of some sort would be in order, though I'm not exactly sure how to word it."

"I wasn't talking about that."

With one eyebrow raised, he asked, "You didn't mind then?"

"I didn't say that. But … well, there's something else that's more pressing."

"More pressing? More pressing than me suggesting that we press our—"

"Stop. I don't need to hear the suggestion again. I remember perfectly well what you said." She paused. "I was talking about what happened after you were thrown through my front window. We fought … and you hit me … and you didn't get a headache … like the chip is designed to give you when you hit a human." She looked at him, trying to read his expression. "You do remember that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. I wasn't sure if you did."

"So, was it the spell? Or has your chip started to malfunction?"

"Pretty sure it's not malfunctioning. On the way home, got into a bit of a scuffle – thought it was a vamp attacking someone. Turned out to be a good old-fashioned mugging."

"And …"

"I hit the guy, who was human – not vamp – and the chip did its thing."

"That means it was either the spell or …"

"Or what, luv?"

"Or it's me. I've been thinking about it. I mean, what if I came back wrong? There are all sorts of things that can go wrong when you mess with the natural – and supernatural – order of things."

"Buffy, I don't think anything is wrong with you." I don't just think ... I know. I'm sure of it, but I can't tell you that – or how I know it.

"First, don't you think we should test out if it was the spell that made it possible for you to hit me?"

"How exactly? I mean I could hit you again. But I don't think either of us are going to enjoy that. In fact, I'd wager that at least one of us isn't."

"Just do it already. Punch me." She held her arms out, indicating that he should hit her abdomen.

On impact, she doubled over and he apologized.

"No headache, I gather?" She groaned.

"No headache."

"Then, it wasn't the spell." She stood up and took a step back. "Your chip works, just not on me."

"I've got a theory."

"If you say it has something to do with bunnies, I'll—"

"What? Do I look like nutty ex-vengeance demon? No, seriously, I have a theory. You've been dead twice now. This last time for quite a bit longer than the first time. Maybe the chip is just picking that up. Maybe it's confused by someone who 'was dead, but not anymore' and can't translate that into 'living, breathing human.' I mean, think about what a misnomer 'military intelligence' is. How smart can one of their chips be?"

"I guess that's possible." She took another couple of steps away from him.

The movement was subconscious, not intentional. But Spike noticed. He raised his hands as if in surrender. "You know that I would never … use this as an opportunity to …"

"I know. I mean, I think I know. But until we get this sorted out, you're still a vampire who has taken pleasure in killing slayers just like me."

"Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't make me sound like the ally that I am and have been." He was standing on the same spot with his hands still raised. "What are you thinking, then?"

She considered for a moment and then asked, "Do you have any handcuffs?"

He tilted his head as he responded, "I can't say that I ever expected to hear those words from your mouth. Not a complaint, mind you. Just an observation."

Rolling her eyes, she prodded, "You didn't answer the question."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. But do we really have time for parlor games? Shouldn't we be trying to solve the mystery of the malfunctioning microchip?"

"No reason we can't do both," she retorted. "The reason I asked is that until we get to the bottom of this, I would feel better if you were restrained."

"So, what now? You're going to chain me up and leave me here?" His expression changed to dread. "You're not gonna take me over to the Watcher's apartment and put me in the tub again! I'd rather you stake me."

"No, my house or the Magic Box."

"I vote for the house. I mean, if I get a vote." He looked at his hands and then back at Buffy. "Okay if I put these down now?"

"Yeah, I guess. But no sudden movements. Honestly, I'm a little jumpy. Can't guarantee how I'd react." She looked around. "Where are the handcuffs?"

"Down … in the bedroom."

Buffy blushed slightly and cleared her throat. "Well, go get them."

Spike made his way down to the lower level and returned swiftly. Remembering what future-Buffy had suggested, he said, "I'm thinking Tara would be a good one to help with this mystery – she can probably do some magic scan thing and see what's going on – and she is less likely to preemptively stake me before having all the info."

"That's not a bad plan." As he walked toward her, his movements were so quick that Buffy instinctively backed up and said, "Please, stop right there." She looked him in the eye and said apologetically, "I didn't mean that as harsh as it sounded. This just has me really on edge. I'm not sure if I should be afraid of you or if everyone should be afraid of me or if there's nothing at all to fear." She looked at the handcuffs he was holding out to her. "Why don't you set those down and then take a few steps back."

He did as she requested and jokingly asked, "Would you like me to kneel down like a criminal and put my hands on my head while you cuff me?"

"Now that you mention it …"

He rolled his eyes, but submitted to her request.

As she was about to put the second cuff on behind his back, she said, "This is going to make it really difficult to get you back to the house, isn't it?"

Just as he answered, "Yes," she brought his hands in front of his torso. He did not really notice as she finished putting them on – he was preoccupied by the fact that he was on his knees before the most amazing woman he had ever known. And he hoped that she could not read his thoughts when she looked into his eyes.

As he stood, she asked, "Where is the key? I might need that later."

He grinned, not at all sheepishly. "In the right front pocket of my jeans."

"That was on purpose, right? That deserves a little punishment." She grabbed his shoulders and shoved him face first toward the nearest wall. "Would you please put your hands behind your head?" After he had done so, she pressed her palm into his back to hold him against the wall. With one foot, she kicked his boots a little farther apart and used her left hip and leg to help keep him pinned. "Your right front pocket, you say?"

He answered affirmatively, "Mm-hmm," as she slid her hand into his pocket to retrieve the key.

She lingered there, pressing into his lean body, taking in the scent of his leather coat – but taking in more than that. She sensed how much he trusted her. She was also aware of how much she wanted to trust him. He might be handcuffed, but if he had wanted to attack her, he'd had ample opportunity and would have done so by now.

As she backed away and indicated that he should head toward the door, Buffy said, "Sorry about all this."

"Don't be. Don't mind at all when a gorgeous blonde throws herself at me and puts her hands all over my hot, tight little body." He grinned wickedly as he strolled past her. Just as he reached for the doorknob, he felt her spank him in reaction to his comment.

"I better not hear anything like that come out of your mouth when we get back to the house," she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am." Once outside, he added, "How exactly are you going to explain this to everyone?" He raised his handcuffed wrists to chest level as he asked.

She did not respond to that. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Arriving at the back door of the house, they could hear voices inside the kitchen.

"Let me do the talking," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

Buffy opened the door to see Xander and Anya standing in her kitchen. "Hey guys, why are you still here? What's going on?"

"No ... Why don't you tell us what's going on." Xander pointed at the handcuffed vampire beside her. "What's that about?"

"He lost a bet." Buffy said as evenly as she could manage.

Spike interjected, "Would it sound more believable if I said I willingly agreed to be her slave?"

Xander looked back and forth between the two of them. "Yes, that would be more believable, but I can't imagine that she would accept the offer."

"Enough, you two," Buffy said, nearly losing her patience. "Do you know where Tara is?"

Anya pointed to the notepad by the phone. "She left a number where we could reach her."

Buffy dialed the hastily scrawled digits. "Hey there, it's Buffy. I'm really sorry to bother you right now, but I need your help with something. Can you meet me at the Magic Box? Great. See you soon." Buffy hung up the phone and then said to room, "Everyone stay here. I'll be right back."

Buffy ran upstairs and first checked on Dawn, who was sleeping. Then, she went into Willow's room. "Are you alright? Dumb question, I know."

"I don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet." Willow admitted, her voice heavy with sadness.

"I need to run out for a little while, but I'll be glad to listen if you're ready to talk when I get back. I just wanted to make sure you'll be alright here with Dawn."

Willow blew her nose loudly and looked up at Buffy with red, teary, puffy eyes. "We'll be fine. Where are you going? Something wrong?"

"I need to go check on something. It's probably nothing, but if it's something, I need to know as soon as possible." Buffy tried to say it as casually as possible, in an attempt to avoid raising suspicion.

After Willow nodded as if she understood, Buffy flew back downstairs, bursting into the kitchen. "Xander, can you give us a ride on your way home?"

"What happened to 'please'? Geez, I thought he was your slave."

"Spike, whack him on the back of the head, please."

"Yes, ma'am." Spike proceeded smack Xander and subsequently got a headache.

They both yelled, "Ow!"

"Two birds, one stone." Buffy muttered as she moved toward the door.

Both guys said, "Huh?"

As she was heading out of the house, Buffy said over her shoulder, "Never mind. Let's get moving."

[

When they arrived at the Magic Box, Anya unlocked the door and let them in. As she handed a spare key to Buffy, Tara came in the front door. Anya and Xander said their goodbyes and Buffy locked the front door behind them.

Tara began, "I'm guessing that since you called me to come meet you here at this hour that this is important. And I'm guessing I don't want to know about the handcuffs."

"Yes and no," Buffy started. "Here's what we know: his chip doesn't work on me anymore. There was a possibility that it had something to do with the memory wipe spell, but we've ruled that out. And it does still work on other people."

"Are you sure?" Tara asked.

"Yes. Absolutely sure."

"Oh – that's why you had me hit Xander," Spike finally catching on.

To Tara, Buffy said, "Let me get him settled in the training room."

As she walked into the back room, she was looking around for something to cuff him to. Before she decided where exactly that would be, he inquired, "Do you mind?" He was holding out his hands. "Just so I can get my coat off and then you can put them right back on."

She unlocked the handcuffs. He removed his coat, which he carefully folded and placed on the couch. Then, he put his hands out in front of him. She cuffed one hand and then tugged on his arm as she attached the other to a nearby pipe.

"Hey, that was not part of the deal."

She moved the couch over to where he stood. "What happened to 'yes, ma'am'?" Her face was more cold and hard than her heart.

"You're right. Until we get this sorted, you have every right to do what you feel necessary in order to feel safe." He sat down on the couch as he continued. "But I hope you soon realize that you don't need to do this. I would have sooner let Glory kill me than see you in pain. How could I possibly inflict pain on you without inflicting it on myself at the same time? You have to know that." He looked up at her face and immediately became more concerned with what he saw there. "Is that the only thing that's bothering you?"

She avoided answering his question. "I'm gonna check on Tara."

"Buffy …"

"I'm fine. It's fine." With a small but genuine smile, she added, "I just need some time to think."

After Buffy came through the door and walked up to her at the table, Tara asked, "You're sure about this? That it wasn't the spell? That it's just you and not everyone else?"

"During the spell the other day, when none of us knew who we were, he hit me … and no headache. I remembered it after the spell broke. I went to talk to him about it. We … uh … tested it out."

"You went by yourself … even though you knew he could hurt you."

"Yeah, in retrospect, probably not the smartest move. But he and I … have been spending time together the past couple months. We've become … closer. I'm not sure I'm ready to admit to the rest of the group how close we've gotten, but the truth of the matter is that lately …" She trailed off, not finishing her thought.

"It's okay. He's done a lot of good and he does love you. And he cares about Dawn, looked out for her while you were gone. Anyone can see that he's been a real friend to you. And you're going through a really hard time."

"This little bonus doesn't make things any easier. Anyway, here's how I figure it: either there's a reasonable explanation for why Spike's chip doesn't work on me. Or there's something wrong with me and I'm the one who should be restrained … before I turn into Faith's evil twin and hurt someone."

Tara's face showed her signature mixture of upbeat assurance and concern. "Alright, let me gather some things here and I'll get working on it."

"Just work as quickly as you can," Buffy said before going back into the training room.

For a while, she and Spike just sat quietly. Finally, Spike asked softly. "So … are we going to talk about it?"

"This again? Talk about what exactly? The kisses last spring? The kiss last week? Dancing at the Bronze the other night? What happened earlier at your crypt?"

"Those topics would definitely give us plenty to talk about. Or we could talk about the proverbial elephant in the room."

"This new condition we find ourselves in? A condition where you are …" Buffy did not finish her thought.

"What were you about to say? That I'm a potential threat to you again?"

"Whether there's something wrong with me or not – that is about the size of it."

"I'm gonna stop you right there. You know full well that even with the chip, if I had wanted to do harm to you or any of your friends, I could have gotten someone or something to do it for me. But I didn't. On the contrary, I have helped and even protected all of you. You know you can trust me." He stopped himself as he saw the shift in her face. "That's it, isn't it? You don't trust me. Not completely."

"I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out."

"It's not something you figure out, luv. It's a binary state: either you do or you don't."

Buffy did not reply. Silence fell over the room again.

A few minutes later, Tara announced that she had done the necessary research and had gathered supplies. They stepped out of the training room, back into the main part of the store in order to talk.

Tara asked Buffy, "What are you going to do with him while you're waiting for the results?"

"I've been thinking about that. I think I'm going to let him go."

"What?!"

"But I'll need you to come home with me and do a disinvite spell – as a precaution ... until I know. First, let me test a theory."

Buffy left Tara sitting at the table in the main part of the store. She opened the door to the training room and looked at Spike. Although she had handcuffed him to the pipe, he had figured out how to position himself so that he could stretch out and recline with his feet up on one arm of the couch, his duster folded under his head.

After a moment or two, he opened his eyes. "Checking up on me? Rather boring. Move along. Nothing to see."

Buffy walked half the distance to the couch.

Spike sat up and asked, "What is it? Did she figure it out already?"

"No. Not yet. I was thinking – and I've decided that … I'm fairly certain that those handcuffs aren't strong enough to hold you. So—"

Before she had finished what she was about to say, he pulled on and broke the cuffs. He remained right where he was, both hands now in his lap.

Buffy sighed. "Right. Keeping you restrained with those is pretty pointless. So, I'm gonna let you go." He gave her a quizzical look as she continued. "But I have a few conditions: you stay away from me, away from here and the house 'til this gets sorted out."

He was less than pleased by this, but he simply said, "Understood."

"And I'm having Tara put the disinvite spell back on the house."

"That's not necessary."

"It's easy enough to invite you back in after I get some answers."

Buffy gestured that he should join them back in the store.

Looking across the room at Tara, he said, "Thank you for doing this. I look forward to hearing from you when you have the results."

"It'll be a few days," Tara informed him.

[

Tara drove them back to Buffy's house. Most of the lights were out and the house was silent. It seemed that Dawn and Willow had gone to bed already. Tara was still cautiously quiet – she did not want to risk having to talk to Willow before she was better prepared. She performed the disinvite spell as quickly as possible, stayed long enough to use the rest room, and then said goodnight to Buffy.

When Buffy went upstairs, she looked in on Willow and confirmed that she was indeed asleep. She left a note for Willow saying that if she wanted to talk in the morning, she would make time.

[

Spike sat outside his crypt, enjoying a smoke. He sighed and dropped his head – thinking of today, of the past week, of the past couple months, … of the hours he had spent with future-Buffy. He wanted to fast-forward through this part – the waiting. He wanted to magically get past the next few days. Better still, to the end of this three-year process.

I know what Tara's results will be – future-Buffy told me. What I don't know is the conclusion this Buffy will come to after she has thought about it. Moment of truth – I have to trust her to come to the conclusion that she can trust me.

Spike, now inside with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his journal in his lap. He found himself – as he often did these days – with his heart on his sleeve and a pen in his hand. He wrote out a letter to Buffy which he would revise and recopy before delivering it to her. He also took the time to scrawl a few lines of poetry before retiring for the night. It helped a little to say these things on paper even if he couldn't say them to her right now.

[

[

The next morning, Willow did not want to talk at first. After a short while, she babbled at length. Buffy was glad that Willow did not seem to want advice or to hear anything particularly wise or helpful – just wanted someone to sit with her and listen. Willow was still in the wallowing, reeling, and trying to make sense of things phase. Even the most well-meaning words from the most well-intentioned friend would not have much effect right now. It was going to take some time before she was ready to receive any comfort or counsel.

For a while, the two longtime friends just sat together in an embrace. It was the kind of quiet moment between friends that says more than words ever could. In spite of everything Buffy had been through – some of which Willow had caused – they were friends. They would always be friends.

[

Tara was staying with a friend of hers who lived on campus. Between classes, she had been working on a solution for Buffy. Through some detective work and the fact that he could track her scent, Spike found where Tara was staying. He waited in the sewer tunnels below the university until a reasonable hour to access her building. He wanted to talk to her as soon as possible, rather than wait for the sun to set.

Spike brought with him the letter he had written late last night. He knocked on the door and asked the young woman who answered if he could speak with Tara. When she came to the door, Tara was surprised to see him there in daylight hours.

"How exactly…?"

"Tunnels."

"Oh. Well, that answers my first question."

"The second being: why am I here?"

"Yes."

"She asked me to stay away, but last night, I wrote down some things that I felt needed to be said." He held out the envelope to her. "Would you please make sure that she reads it? Even if she tears it up afterward – just make sure she reads it."

As she took the letter from him, she nodded and then reached out to touch his forearm. "We were just going to have some tea before heading to class. Would you like to join us?"

In that moment, Spike was reminded of Joyce's kindness to him and was quite touched by the gesture. "Your roommate won't mind?"

Tara turned to silently check with the girl and quickly turned back around. "She's already got a third mug." Tara stepped aside, opening the door wider. When she realized why Spike was hesitating, she said intentionally, "Please, won't you come in?"

A wide smile spread across Spike's face as he stepped over the threshold.

While her roommate was putting water into a mug and putting it in the microwave, Tara cleared some things off a chair so he could sit down. Then, she brought over a basket with a selection of tea.

He looked up at her sheepishly when he noticed there was also hot cocoa. He indicated what he was looking at and asked, "Alright if I have one of these instead?"

She nearly laughed as she handed him a packet of Swiss Miss with miniature marshmallows. Her roommate handed him the mug of hot water and a spoon. "Wish I could stay and chat, but I have a date with a cranky algebra prof. Maybe next time?" With that, she downed that last of her tea, grabbed her backpack, gave a quick wave to Tara, and was gone.

Spike attempted to make conversation since she had been nice enough to ask him in. "So, is this housing situation temporary or …?"

Tara fidgeted with the string on her tea bag. "Honestly, I'm not sure. How much do you know?"

"I know that Willow has been moving toward something that frightens you a bit. Makes sense you'd want to put on the brakes." He paused and looked at her. "You're not wrong … to be concerned, that is. And you're not the only one who is."

Tara considered what he was saying. She appreciated him letting her know that she was not alone in this. She looked him in the eye and smiled warmly, as only she can. "Thank you for that."

He nodded. They shared the remainder of their beverages in silence.

[

After Spike left, Tara had some time before her next class. She decided to avoid going to the house and took the letter to the Magic Box. Buffy was not there when she arrived. She was just about to leave it with Giles when Buffy came through the door.

"Buffy, I have something for you."

"So soon?" Buffy was surprised to see Tara and was being cautious about what she said in front of Giles and Anya.

Tara gestured that they should step off to the side to talk privately. "No. Not that. Not yet. But I'm working on it and should have something soon. But what I came to … I had a visit from Spike earlier."

Concern flashed across Buffy's face.

"Nothing to worry about." Tara held out the envelope. "He just wanted to ask me to deliver this to you."

"Okay," is what came from Buffy's mouth, but her voice was filled with uncertainty.

"He made me promise that I would make sure that you read it."

They walked back into the training room and sat down on the couch, which was still in its relocated position next to the pipe. Buffy stared at the envelope in her lap for a moment before she could bring herself to open it. She looked up at Tara, saying, "Here goes."

As soon as she unfolded the letter, she was glad they had stepped into another room. As had become the norm in recent days, it was a singing letter.

My Dearest Buffy,

I know that you need to think this through, that you need time. All I can do is tell you how I feel – and hope that you believe the veracity of my words, knowing that you can trust me regardless of the results Tara gets.

Loving you is not a choice – it's who I am. Loving you is not a choice and not much reason to rejoice; but it gives me purpose, gives me voice to say to the world: 'This is why I live. You are why I live.'

Loving you is why I do the things I do. Loving you is not in my control; but loving you, I have a goal for what's left of my life: I would live … and I would die for you. [3]

Yours,

William

Buffy was stunned and Tara was uncomfortable, having heard something that was not intended for her eyes or ears.

As she carefully returned the letter to its envelope, Buffy said, "When you see him, you can tell him that I read it."

"Would you like me to tell him anything else?"

"Not really. Just that I kept it and I'll talk to him soon." As she stood up, she saw the punching bag that had taken a beating after she received the letter from Riley. "Oh, you can tell him that I didn't feel the need to go 10 rounds with the punching bag."

"I assume that he'll know what that means?"

"Yes. In fact, it'll probably make him smile."

Tara left Buffy alone with her thoughts, of which there were many.

[

Spike sat alone at his crypt. Still no word from Buffy or Tara. It was killing him – well, if he were alive, it would be killing him – not knowing what she was thinking. He was imagining the worst possible scenarios … where she decides she can't trust him, can't be around him, decides it's finally time to dust him, or worse … that she pushes him away and he is doomed to spend eternity with a broken heart – an eternity without her.

His journal had become a true companion. He set ink to paper, yet again – attempting to get things off of his chest and out of his head. After a few stanzas reflecting on the life of a writer, he concluded his thoughts with this:

A writer hopes to leave behind a work no one forgets
And when he writes THE END to find he has the right regrets.
A writer has the empty page where he can use his pen
To mend his heart and try to start again. [4]

A/N:

Many thanks for reading. Until next time…

~Jen

8 July 2016

SONGS in this chapter:

[1] Hamilton (2015 Broadway) "Satisfied"

[2] Into the Woods (1987 Broadway / 1990 West End / 1991 tv / 2014 film) "Cinderella at the Grave"

[3] Passion (1994 Broadway / 1996 West End) "Loving You"

[4] Bombshell (2015 New York City / within 2012 tv series Smash) "The Right Regrets"