Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Six

It All Started One Hallows' Eve Night

San Francisco, the world without shrimp - Halloween 2006

Halloween began on a dark and stormy night. Harmony Bites was on it's third episode and the Scoobies of San Francisco had their eyes hard pressed to the tv. It had become a weekly tradition of noting what Harmony had been up to all week, not that the show was particularly interesting. Or so it seemed. Buffy was adamant she was up to something and made them sit on the couch and watch. In truth she was becoming somewhat of fan, but only so she could complain endlessly about how Harmony was doing well out of her demon-hood.

"I really should slay her," she said that night, squeezed at the end of the couch because Dawn had invited Leo over to break up the tension. Willow and Tara were laying on the carpet, a bowl of butter popcorn between them. And Spike was pretending not to watch from the balcony door. If he was on his own, in his crypt, he would be watching intently, but there was a part of him that wanted to keep some dignity. Buffy would never let him live it down. "I should've slayed her years ago, then we wouldn't have this-" she gestured to the tv screen where Harmony was being filmed walking her dogs at midnight. "This monstrosity of a show."

"It's Halloween Buffy, the night you are allowed to do whatever you want. And yet you insist we watch this. Come on, even Spike agrees with me." Dawn said, looking over at the vampire who was pretending to be suddenly very interested in the colour of the curtains.

"Yeah but Dawnie, it's prime-time television." Willow interjected, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. Dawn scowled. She really would agree to do literally anything other than this, she was still holding a grudge.

"So sue me, she kidnapped me once, I'm allowed to be a little testy." She said folding her arms.

"Oh baby," Leo replied sympathetically, his bottom lip drooping.

"Oh get a room," Buffy said. Dawn smiled, then grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch. Willow threw popcorn at them as they rushed off towards her room. "Door open!" Buffy added as the door slammed shut behind them.

It was night but Buffy was restless. Spike wasn't there, he was tossing and turning in his crypt, his back hard as nails as he rolled over on a tombstone that once housed someone very dead and very rich, hence the crypt. The nights when he wasn't there Buffy always felt cold, empty. Despite him not having body heat, Spike's presence made her feel safe. But tonight she was alone, unable to help with Spike's nightmares, and feeling a little useless.

It was Halloween, her night off, the night no demon bothered because the whole festival had become too commercialised. Her slaying skills were pointless tonight. Though she could've gone and sat in the cemetery for a few hours anyway, just too see if something was going. No, she told herself. The night was for sleeping, and that was what she needed.

It was ten minutes before she got up and walked to their small apartment kitchen. She boiled the kettle and poured the boiling water into one of Spike's blood mugs. Even after they'd been through the dishwasher the iron-rich scent still managed to sneak through. Buffy didn't know whether it was Angel or otherwise long-term exposure to blood that made her feel nostalgic about the smell. Either way, in the dead of night, on the only day of the year she hadn't slain something, it was nice to have around.

She stirred in one of Tara's tea bags. She'd been brewing mixes lately to boost certain attributes, using certain herbs and flowers for their properties. The one Buffy had decided on was called 'Serenity and Strength,' she scoffed, of course it was. Only Tara could promise that much in a small bag of herbs. She sipped it, blowing the steam off the top of the mug. It tasted sweet and oddly sour at the same time, Buffy's entire mouth felt instantly dry, not quite the soothing effect she was going for. She made a note to tell Tara about altering the mix.

Then she strolled through the apartment, her bare feet gliding across the fluffy carpet, still sipping the tea because well now that she'd made it and was actively drinking it, the herbs were beginning to work. Another thing to add to the note. She stopped outside Dawn's room - Leo being the English gentleman that he was, had left her for the night. He wouldn't hear of staying, apparently it wasn't 'proper.' Buffy had no idea what 'proper' meant but she was glad Dawn had someone like that; when she was nineteen she was sneaking in and out of Riley's dorm at two am, dressed in his shirts. The door was teetering open, and creaking with each sway of the draught. She looked so peaceful, so much like she had when she was ten and cuddling about forty stuffed animals. In truth, Buffy knew she still left the door open because she was scared of the dark. Something she'd never made fun of because fearing the dark was natural, there were bad things in the dark. And a few good ones.

Buffy's mind drifted to Spike next, as the last drops of her tea swam around the mug. He'd been so restless lately, so much more tortured than usual. Being tortured was supposed to be normal for Spike, yet he walked with his head so far down, his mind elsewhere most of the time. She'd asked him to stay tonight, it being her night off and all, but he'd refused. Politely, he'd hung his head and stalked out of the apartment. She wished she could do something, she was tempted to ring Angel but something stopped her. A tugging in her chest perhaps, an unwillingness to hear his voice. The one that once brightened her day could now dampen it within seconds. She'd long since accepted that her and Angel were over. But the way he was now, living with Cordelia, being human, the baby. He was so gleeful, so happy. It seemed almost wrong. It saddened her that she wasn't ever that for him. That their being together only tortured them both more than fate and destiny ever could.

Eventually Buffy took herself back to bed. Not before another mug of tea, yes, the flavour was really growing on her and she'd have to tell Tara it was a job well done. She slipped beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of life outside her window. A group of teenagers chattering in the night, beer bottles between their fingers, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. Cars driving past, just trying to get home. The odd dog barking, cat mewing, vampire growling in the dark. But Buffy was asleep before any of that had time to register. The tea having sent her into a peaceful, dreamless state.

Down the hall, Willow and Tara were themselves asleep, tangled in each others' limbs talking to each other in their dreams. Spike was dreaming of something he wouldn't remember in the morning, but mostly her. Mostly the darkness of his past. He was reliving some of his worst kills for them to all disappear in the morning. Xander and Anya were busy in the latter stages of lovemaking, heady giggles and only light petting were acceptable at this hour. But something else was amiss in New Sunnydale, a beaten man was running down main street, the Magic Box coming into view, his lip bleeding quite rapidly onto his shirt...

New Sunnydale, the world without shrimp - Halloween 2006

She was standing at the end of the road. But every step he took towards her only pushed her further away. Would he ever reach her? Was she even there, or a figment of his overactive imagination? It didn't matter. He could see her now and that was all that mattered. How did she get to be this beautiful? Surely, life had not been that kind to her. Maybe it had. He couldn't quite remember. He hated that, that her image was slowly slipping from his mind, replaced but this vision in white. He felt torn between the woman he'd known in life and the one of his dreams. Perfect and preserved. Always safe from harm.

He sang to her sometimes, in his dreams. All the songs he would've played her in their long life together. He would've strummed his guitar for her everyday if she'd asked. But now she had no words, only that faraway figure. "Pity," he said to himself, "I should like to have told her how beautiful she looks." He didn't understand that she wasn't really there.

They were taunting him, to see what happened when They dangled the carrot in front of him like that. They were right, of course. It was him and her, they were the cause of the anomaly. "This won't do." One said to the other, who nodded petulantly and tapped his finger on a clipboard.

Then a man made of cheese walked in front of him on the road and distracted him from her.

Giles woke with a start, the surprise presence of the cheese man startling him out of his dreams, only to find there was an insistent ringing coming from somewhere near the front door. "Bugger," he said finding his glasses on his bedside table, and knocking over a glass of water in the process. "Yes, alright, I'm coming," he said to whoever was ringing his doorbell like a hamster on a wheel. He rubbed his head blindly as he stumbled into things, grabbing his robe from the back of his chair. He made his way to the door and pulled it open with a thud, then his face fell. What on Earth was he doing here?

He was standing there bedraggled. His hand rubbing his temple as he tried to extinguish the demons from his brain and the ringing in his ears. His nose was bleeding and he had a split lip. Giles had never seen Ethan looking so downtrodden, so beaten. Even after a bar fight several years ago, he'd gotten up for another round. Giles quickly decided this was a different Ethan to the one he used to know. Something had happened to him out in the desert. Whatever demons he'd been facing, there was a desperation in his eyes that Giles couldn't stand to look at anymore. So he invited Ethan Rayne, in for tea.

They settled at his kitchen table. Ethan sipped his tea gratefully and Giles stared at him like he was an escaped criminal. Well technically he was an escaped criminal, but that didn't seem to matter, Giles went right on staring at him. "Are you going to say something?" He said strongly, not picking up his mug from the table.

"Oh yes, sorry." Ethan mumbled through his split lip, it was starting to blister rather painfully, so he had to grit his teeth whilst talking. "I need somewhere to hide. They're after me,"

"Who is after you?" Giles replied no-nonsensically, his tea growing colder.

"Them. The bad guys," Ethan supplied helpfully.

"The government?"

"No! Not them lot, the other ones." He paused to tap away the pain in his lip, and took another sip of tea to soothe ache. "The ones who are trying to kill me," he looked around before dipping his head and whispering. "We can't talk about it here, they'll have followed me. I can't have them knowing where I went Ripper, please believe me."

"And I didn't think you cared."

"I don't."

To be continued...