Chapter One Hundred and Forty One

The Rabbit Died

London, the world without shrimp - November 2006

Meanwhile all of that was going on, a portal was opening in Giles and Jenny's living room. The thing was a doorway of purple mist, spilling out small visions of the room behind it. Willow stepped through it, a bag on her shoulder and a smile on her face as Giles' face came into view. The second she stepped out of the portal's range it disappeared into thin air, collapsing in on itself until the room was left as it had been. Willow rushed forward and pulled Giles into a big hug. She'd called ahead to say she was coming, otherwise Giles would be chastising her for such a form of travel as portal. They were tempestuous and temperamental at best but with some training the young witches had managed to get the hang of them.

Giles leaned into the hug and then pushed his glasses back into their correct position where Willow had shoved him rather hard. "Oof, sorry Giles." She said lightly, "where's Jenny?" They were way past calling her Miss Calendar at this point.

"Out buying milk and a few other things," Giles said smiling a little, "hopefully she'll be back before you go, I think she wants to give you something for Buffy. It's too intricate for my mind to explain I'm afraid." He gestured to the table and they sat down.

"Did she tell you about Spike?" Willow asked. Giles nodded and then they swiftly moved off the topic because the whole subject seemed like pointless chitchat. "So." Willow continued, "how are you guys?"

Giles squinted at her for a moment, he thought they were getting off the topic of chitchat. "Um, yes, well I think." He was keeping his recent reality change under wraps because it would rock the group, and they never needed to know a worse world they could've been living in.

Willow tucked some hair behind her ear, looking down at her hands. Things were still a little weird around him, and Jenny. Since the spell, since the doctor's appointments, the phone calls. But that was the reason she was here, to try and make amends. She poked around in her bag for a moment, her nails flicking lots of glass vials and jars until she found the right one. "Tea," she said, "Tara's. She's been making it by the bucketful. Not entirely sure why but she seems to think it will help- with the whole getting pregnant issue." Then she beamed excitedly, "oh and it must be working because Anya's pregnant! Probably shouldn't be telling you yet but-" the door banged shut cutting Willow off. Her and Giles stared through the kitchen to where Jenny was now standing, shopping bags in hand, a surprised look on her face. "Jenny- I-I didn't mean to be..."

"No no Willow it's fine. That's great, for Anya and for Xander." She said, putting the bags down and walking towards the younger witch, she felt a little saddened but tried not to show it on her face. It was part of her healing, not feeling jealous of those she cared about. She nodded, mostly for herself, then sat down beside Willow, who was a little too stunned to speak. So Jenny did the talking, picking up the jar of tea and read the label with great care. "Hmm, nettle leaf and dandelion? Does this taste any good?" She questioned, to which Willow came alive - this was a topic she could talk about.

"Yeah it's quite nice actually, I think there's some peppermint in there too just for flavour, Tara said it would help." She looked down and fiddled with her fingers, scared of saying the wrong thing.

Jenny put the jar down on the table and reached for Willow's hand. Giles took this motion to busy himself making cups of tea in the kitchen, leaving the two women some space to talk. Willow looked up at her former teacher, her eyes were a stable chocolate brown, not the black hole hue they'd once been. There was a trust in them again, Willow's shoulder relaxed, there was something here again. "Thank you," she said, truly grateful. "Tell Tara I'll try it, oh and tell Buffy-" Jenny made a 'one minute' gesture with her finger and got up to root through one of the shopping bags on the counter. This included bumping Giles out of the way and making him laugh. Willow glanced at them, chin resting on her fist and smiled too. She hadn't seen Giles this happy in a long time. Something tugged at the back of her mind, memories of high school, good times when they were being hunted by vampires.

Jenny came to sit back down soon enough, a small bottle in her hand. "I stopped by the magic shop on my way back, not as good as the Magic Box of course," she said with a wink and a gaze back at her husband. "But it'll do." Willow looked at her puzzled, "for Spike."

"Oh right, what is it exactly?" Willow replied, taking the bottle in her hands and inspecting much the same way Jenny had with Tara's tea.

Jenny smiled, this was her element. "It's like the antidote to Lethe's Bramble, works on reversing memory spells. Just get him to put two drops under his tongue before he goes to sleep. I'm not sure if it's a memory spell we're dealing with here, but it's the best thing I can think of. It's a place to start anyway." She was so excited, so part of the gang again. Willow wasn't sure what'd lead to this current moment, she didn't know about the argument, about the words shared between Rupert Giles and Jennifer Calendar in the privacy of their own home, but she knew it was something good. So she said her goodbyes, gave them both a hug, and then took the bottle home and told Buffy what to do with it. It was going to be a long night.

San Francisco, the world without shrimp - November 2006

Buffy sat on her bed, bent over and reading the label on the back of the bottle Willow had given her. Spike was faffing around in the bathroom, doing his hair of all things, even though they were just about to go to bed. Buffy looked up to find him staring at her from the bathroom door, his fingers trapped in the waistband of his pants, shirtless, with a smile curling over his lips as he looked not-so subtly down at his belt. He was having one his good days.

"Hey baby," he said like she was the femme fatale in a movie where he got to be the hero and rescue her from a moving train. She was slick with worry but it fell off her like a hot knife through butter.

"Hello, who are we tonight?" She said, standing up and then immediately cringing, "God did I really just say that?" She approached him, a smirk playing upon his lips.

"It wasn't too bad." He said to appease her. His shirtlessness was distracting her.

"Hey, you wanna-" she pointed to the bed, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. "Mhmm," she nodded as he kissed her and pushed her towards the bed. And well we know what happens after that...

They went to sleep, Spike still shirtless and Buffy wearing the shirt he'd discarded on the floor hours before. Her arm was curled over his chest protectively, however reluctantly he'd been, she'd managed to get him to try Jenny's remedy. Now she was dreaming that it'd worked. Images of a life they couldn't have, like she'd done with Angel. Then things they could, him standing under a tree, his duster swung over his shoulder and a grin on his face. She dreamt of him smiling when he saw her instead of sighing. Patrolling together again, and sparring, they hadn't done that in forever. Or six months.

Then it was over - the dreaming, because she was being moved, her arm, was being flung, her back turning over, waking up. "Whoa," she said, then she looked to her left and found Spike sitting bolt upright. "Spike?" She said cautiously, her hand on his arm.

"I remember," was all he said. He was shaking his head, his shirtlessness very apparent as a layer of impossible sweat dripped down the centre of his chest.

*Dream* Sunnydale, the world without shrimp - 1997

He saw red. Blood frothing at the mouth. Someone holding his jaw open, forcing the smooth, warm liquid down his throat. He heard her cackling now she was back to full health. The body she was holding was heavy, six foot three and at deadweight. He could feel the bristle of his facial hair against his neck, it was as unappealing him now as it was a turn on back then. To feel the heft of a body on his shoulder, to feel the deadness of the same body against his skin was what a vampire craved. But he felt only disgust now.

It was like a war raging inside his mind. If killing people was so terrible, then why the blood feel so good against his gullet? Paralysed in his dream state, Spike tried to fight the urging, tried to fight the heat he felt, tried to stop the swelling of his groin. But he was powerless against what the dream wanted. He felt it then, her fingernails trailing over his cheek, his bumpy forehead her plaything as she pulled his mouth away from the dead man.

"What do you think, dear?" She said, her voice like cat litter, gravelly and smelling like she ate something dead. Her fangs pierced the inside of her lip, and as she sucked on her own blood, moaning at the pleasure, Spike's skin crawled. He shoved the body hard away from him and stood up violently. He grabbed her, pulling her tight against his chest and digging his fingers into the flesh of her arms. She smiled creepily, "oh I do love it when my Spike gets feisty," she said dragging a nail down his chest and threatening to draw blood.

"What do you want, pet? Tell me now," he demanded, a red look in his eye. Wanton disaster, wreck and ruin. She giggled and kissed him, her fangs breaking the skin of his lip and trailing two distinct lines down his chin. He bathed in the glory of his trophy. She suckled from him, grinning like a small child, mad as a box of frogs. Fantasy or reality? Spike didn't know, all he knew was that this felt good and bad and guilty and awful and delicious all at the same time. How could he ever beat this?

San Francisco, the world without shrimp - November 2006

"It was her," Spike said, "it was all her. This entire time." He pulled the cover from over his legs and got out of bed. "I'm going to bloody kill her!" Buffy watched in horror as Spike yelled into the night, his veins popping, a frightening look on his bumpy face. She was scared of him, scared of the monster inside him, for the first time in years.

"Spike?" She said quietly, he was settling down now, falling backwards, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her. "What happened? What did you remember?"

He turned around to face her, his features becoming softer. His vamp face disappeared, leaving only his smooth brow and sharp cheek bones. "Drusilla." He almost spat, but restrained himself. At one point he was close to forgiving her, but after this? How could he? What was she doing to him? Why? He needed to find her. "Let's get some more sleep." He said, but Buffy knew he needed a smoke. He needed a lot of things. But therapy wasn't an option for someone like Spike.