Chapter 3: Feeling the Cold

A/N (Ah, I'm so sorry. I know I say that far too much, don't I? I guess having not only just recently gotten back in the mood for writing, but having actually had the time to write as well has made me a little bit crazy. Not only have I got a new story up, but I'd also like to keep continuing this one.

Thank you to all of you who have been so patient, and especially to Kim for making sure that nothing sinister had happened to stop me from writing :P. This entire chapter is just for you guys. :). Heck, who am I kidding… these stories are always for you guys, and your wonderful reviews that brighten up my day. :)

So hopefully, this won't be the last update I make while in this crazy-writing-mood. Enjoy, and please tell me what you think. :) )

Buffy pulled her jacket slightly closer. As always, following a scorching day on the Hellmouth, the night decided to go the opposite way and become freezing cold. On one such night, she remembered Spike had attempted to explain it to her. Once he got halfway through she'd shaken her head to stop him.

"No offense, Spike," she'd said, her teeth chattering because she hadn't stopped home to change and was thus still in a t-shirt and jeans. "I don't really care at the moment."

He'd taken a glance at her. "Let's get you home, pet. About the only thing you can do t' the demons around her at the moment is freeze 'em by looking at you."

"Har-de-har-har."

Her breath misted in front of her. Surprisingly enough, she saw a plume of matching mist spiral out of his mouth.

"Spike, why do you even bother to breathe when you don't need to?"

He cocked his head and looked at her. "I don't rightly know, pet. I guess it's just strange to be around all you humans breathing and not breathe as well."

She laughed. "Peer pressure working on the Big Bad?" she teased.

"Oi! That's not what I meant. It's just the whole stillness thing's always made me a bit uncomfortable… I guess I feel… I dunno. The instinct to breathe is still strong in me sometimes, y'know?"

The words came out before she could stop them. "I don't remember seeing Angel breathe much."

He stiffened at the name. "Me and the Grand Poof don't have much in common."

"Except for the fact you both brood?" she asked sweetly.

That broke the tension. He growled and chased her, and she ran, the two of them weaving in and out of the night, laughing.

"Come back 'ere Slayer!" he yelled. "Take that back!"

"Make me!" she shouted back, giggling.

He shook his head and marveled, even as his retort left his mouth and left her giggling even more. It had been a month since he'd told her. It had been two months since he'd properly realized. And in that one month in between of agonizing indecision, of insecurity and fear, he'd never, ever dreamed it would become like this.

They were… friends? Slaying partners? Whatever they were, he'd never…

Not since his relationship with his mother had he felt like this. There were a million things to work through, of course. But this wasn't like Dru or Darla or Angelus. It wasn't like Cecily and his yearning. He remembered the friendship he'd had with his mother before… he gulped. He didn't want to remember that. But he had remembered. It was… accepting? Friendly? Laughing?

He didn't have words to describe it. He didn't actually really have time. At the most inopportune moment, as his eyes blurred with a haze of tears that he choked back, he heard Buffy's gasp of pain from up ahead in the darkness. Instantly, he morphed to game face and roared, tears and memories forgotten.

She rebounded back from the fence with a kick. The burly vamp threw her aside. She landed neatly and spun around, laying three punches in quick succession that hit deep into his solar plexus. He roared and threw her back into the fence again just as Spike reached them.

"I've always wanted to kill the Slayer," the vamp leered.

"I've always wanted piano lessons," Buffy shot back. "So really, who's surprised we have all this unexpressed rage?"

Spike reached from behind to twist the vamp's neck but he was finally alerted to the Master Vampire's presence. He sent a meaty fist crashing into the blonde's head, sending him flying backwards. Undeterred, he leapt up again, his ears ringing as he smoothly rushed the vamp again, just in time for Buffy to begin assailing him from behind.

"But you know… I think I'm expressing mine better. Tell you what, you find a good anger management class…"

The vamp had a Slayer on one side and a pissed off Master vampire on the other. He had no chance.

They staked him at the same time.

"And we'll shove a pointy bit of wood in your heart," Spike finished for her matter-of-fact-ly

She laughed. He marveled again. The bell-like tone made his undead heart want to palpitate. The Slayer happy was golden. "Well that's got to be the world record for closure," she grinned.

Before he could reply, he was interrupted. "Hey!" someone yelled.

They turned and a light flashed in their eyes. Luckily, Spike had slipped back to his human face as a watchman came up to them.

"Miss, Mr., if you're looking for one of those rave parties, I'm afraid you're late. Chased a bunch of kids out of here last night."

"Oh right. Yeah. Um… darn," Spike attempted to cover.

"My fellow ravers will be so disappointed. It was my turn to bring the Bundt cake," Buffy sighed.

The watchman gave her a genuine smile. "You know, if it was my call, I'd let you do whatever you want. It's not like anybody's using this place or nothin'. But they just don't pay me enough to argue with the boss so..."

Spike put his hands up. "Already gone."

They turned to leave, but the watchman stopped them.

"Oh, hey! Hold it, miss. Take your... whatever this is with you."

He bent over, picking up a glowing yellow orb. Buffy and Spike shared a glance. Pulsating energy seemed to emanate from it. The watchman handed it to Buffy,

"Thank you," she said, startled.

"Glow balls, huh?" he laughed. "I swear, I don't get your generation. What is that thing?"

She studied it curiously. "I'll let you know as soon as I find out."

They turned to walk away, but he had one last thing to say. Addressing Spike this time, the watchman straightened.

"Better walk her home, Mr. There's no telling what'll happen in the dark."

Spike nodded brusquely. "I was planning to."

"Good. You two have fun now."

They walked back in silence. When they were at her door, however, he paused before leaving.

"Better get that to Giles soon."

"I will, don't worry Spike. Thanks for your help today."

He gave her a smirk. "No problem at all, Slayer."

She watched as he melted back into the night, his shock of platinum blonde hair disappearing. Then, to still her confusion, she stepped into the house.

"Hey, Buffy."

"Mum!" she moved to the bench, dropping her coat on the back of a seat. "What are you doing still up?" she glanced at the clock. "It's past 12."

"Couldn't sleep," Joyce admitted, absently stirring her cocoa. "Is Spike still here?"

She shook her head. "He's gone, I think he's pretty tired. He was up most of today and that was his sleep time… but enough about him. Are you alright?"

Joyce paused as she sipped. Buffy's throat constricted around her heart.

"It's the headaches again, isn't it?" she whispered.

"They're not too bad," Joyce coughed. "But they just keep me up, you know?"

Buffy closed a hand around her mother's, and physically flinched at how fragile it seemed. She shut her eyes briefly. These were the same hands that had caressed her through the womb, that had supported her as a child, that had taken her temperature when she was sick. These were the same hands that had held her tightly when Hank had left. These were the same hands that toiled in and out every day, a single mother to two children.

"We need to get you to the doctors again. Why haven't the results come in yet?" she demanded agitatedly. "It's been an entire month!"

"I guess they must be pretty busy," Joyce stirred the cocoa automatically. The dry powder had long dissolved. "I've heard that the ward for Mental disorders is overflowing at the moment. Most of their resources have gone there. And… they did warn before we went that it could take weeks before they could get a specialist to look."

"But they should still do something. We're going to get you to the doctors this week."

She expected protest. But there was none.

"C'mon, Mum," Buffy managed to choke out when the weary silence from her mother squeezed her heart just a little bit more. "Let's go to bed."

8 8 8

The pain throbbed agitatedly in my left temple, making it almost impossible to concentrate on the blurry blackboard. The screech of chalk was also beginning to induce a need to pass out. Or vomit. Or both.

The sudden scratching of a pen in my vicinity brought me back. Being in school, you learn to block out noises like that. But not if it's the loud, obnoxious shrieking of Daniel's half-rusty, ear-torturing device. I swear, Dawn and I have thrown it in about all the bins we've known the existence of and yet there it is again…

Doesn't really make me want to think about how he goes searching for it. That's Daniel. The most stubborn idi…

He slid the note over.

Are you okay?

I nodded, but the movement made me wince. He rolled his eyes as he reclaimed his piece of paper. From my left, I heard the whining protests of Dawn's pencil. I couldn't blame her for always sharpening it.

Two notes slid in my direction at the same time. I felt loved.

You wanna get out of here?

You want to take a break or something?

I didn't dare shake my head. Instead, I wrote back.

Sorry guys. I'm fine, don't worry about it. I'll hold on till lunch.

My headache was quickly becoming unbearable, though. I took some random person's advice and tried to concentrate on something else. The easiest, and surprisingly, most engaging thing was our History teacher.

Miss. Maldrow was new this term. She was also doing very well. Three weeks in and she hadn't gone the slightest bit insane.

Possibly because she was already insane to start with.

"The Salem witch trials are probably the most famous hunt, but it sure wasn't the only one. They happened all over Europe. Ned, why do you think this happened?"

A freckled boy blinked sleepily. "Um… because they were afraid?"

"Good, you've been listening," Miss. Maldrow said amusedly. "To understand this, just take Star Wars as an example."

"Star Wars?" Kirsty's voice rose an unbelievable octave in overdone surprise. My headache throbbed even more. "What does Star Wars have to do with the Witch Hunts?"

"Simple. And since I'd rather keep my hearing, please do be a little quieter. Does any other Star Wars fan want to explain?"

Kirsty flushed at the reprimand, but Daniel leapt onto Miss. Maldrow's question. The waving hand couldn't possibly be missed. I smiled. That boy and his enthusiasm…

Miss. Maldrow laughed her full-hearted chuckle. "Yes, Daniel?"

"It's the thing that Yoda and Ben both always say. Fear leads to Anger, Anger leads to Hate, Hate leads to," his voice lowered dramatically. "the Dark Side!"

"Very good," Miss. Maldrow rewarded him with another chuckle, before turning back to the board. "As you can see, the people of the Middle Ages had a lot to worry about. Every bad thing that was out of their control, drought, sickness, death… it was all attributed to supernatural occurrences. Of course, they had a natural fear of all of these. They blamed them on demons and witches and warlocks. Of course, when bad times came upon them, the fear became overwhelming."

She stabbed out a crude diagram. I winced as the chalk scraped, but now the headache was just an annoyance. I was far too interested.

"Miss?" I put my hand up. "Wasn't it also because the Christian Church was afraid of anything they couldn't explain and already had that thing of denigrating women?"

People hissed as I said that, but Miss. Maldrow didn't seem fazed. "Definitely. It's well known now that the Church at that time controlled the people with fear. Self-hate was most likely rampant. The Church denied and denigrated a lot of the things, like sex…"

The popular group of girls audibly gasped. The popular group of guys snickered. I saw Dawn roll her eyes, and I joined her, knowing that Daniel and every other person who wasn't so deeply entwined in the social system they'd become mindless clones was doing the same. Miss. Maldrow continued on, undeterred. Man, I liked this teacher.

"Women, pleasure in general, really. The reason for this was because the Church had to gain control over the paganism and Wiccan roots of the areas, and these religions all glorified the body, women, sex…"

The same general response. I rolled my eyes again.

"And pleasure. Thus, when these natural things were repressed, they lashed out at those that they saw as embodying these things."

"Miss?" Kirsty mimicked me. "Doesn't that just prove that through the ages people who are different are bad?"

She raised his eyebrow at that. "I don't believe you've been listening, Kirsty. There was probably nothing bad about the innocents who were persecuted. Mob mentality, repression, and self-hatred caused the Witch Hunts. And we all know that mob mentality is a very dangerous thing, because humans seem to revert to their most basic instincts of violence and self-interest."

Dawn couldn't resist. "Would you say that mob mentality is still with us, Miss. Maldrow? Even if we aren't repressed and hate ourselves any more and there are no witch hunts?" she asked innocently. I turned my laugh into a cough. Dizzyness swept up from my eyes.

"Mob mentality, sadly enough, will probably always be with us," she responded, her fingers forgetting the chalk and intertwining. "In any human group, there always lies the possibility. But most of all, Dawn, do you really think we don't hate ourselves any more? Do you really think we're still not repressed?"

I saw uncertainty flicker across her features. "Well… we're a lot more open about sex and stuff."

I refrained from rolling my eyes at the gasps.

"Are we?" Miss. Maldrow asked mildly. "It's still seen as a 'dirty' thing, isn't it? And as to the self-hatred… the rapidly skyrocketing depression and suicide rates say a lot. Perhaps your question should be, has anything really changed?"

"But Miss. Maldrow," Ned spoke up again. "There are no witch hunts now."

That earned another laugh, but it had turned bitter all of a sudden. I watched, wide-eyed as the sun decided to duck behind a cloud and the light that had illuminated Miss. Maldrow's face turned to shadow. A deep, icy sadness in her eyes encompassed her. The entire classroom turned cold.

The bell rang.

"Class dismissed," Miss. Maldrow said softly.