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Chapter 6

Days later, Buffy was sitting in Giles’ apartment at the table, which was covered by every book imaginable. They had all been pouring over every volume they had available, and were expecting a couple more today from orders they had put in. Unfortunately, they had not been very successful as of late and that was starting to bother her.

Willow and Tara sat across from her, flirting while searching. Will had found a passage a day earlier, discussing the fundamentals of ‘pulling over the curtain’. In layman’s terms, they would be able to find out what caused some of the weird things that Buffy saw under the spell. Unfortunately, Giles didn’t have all the ingredients, and they had to wait for those as well.

Xander walked in carrying a small box and laid it in the alcove window of the kitchen. “I come bearing gifts of the reading kind. How goes the search?”

Buffy slammed her book shut. “Not good. My brain hurts and I’m not even in class.”

He walked over and rubbed the top of her head. “Poor brain, wonder if it’ll ever work again?” Everyone looked at him pointedly, and he rushed, “As well. Ever work as well again.”

Buffy smiled, “It’s alright Xand, I get it. Where’s Anya?”

He cut open the top of the box and pulled the flaps apart. “She had a meeting to go to. Something about her new apartment, I know I should of asked, but then I really wanted to be here helping.” Xander started to pull out the different books, each of them very old-looking. “Then I opened this box and now I realized why she told me I’d have more fun at her boring meeting.” He groaned and brought them over to the table, setting them on top of the other ones.

The door flew open and Giles walked in carrying another box, this one much smaller. He kicked it shut with his foot and took it to the coffee table near the couch. “I have the ingredients for the spell, Buffy. Now, I have been doing more reading on this and I found out that you need to do it in private, so you can relax. I was thinking that you could do it in my room or the bathroom. Or, once you’re well versed, you can take it home and do it there. Your choice.”

Buffy thought about it for a moment. “My room. Quiet, comfortable, something familiar. Sound okay to you?” Inside, she didn’t care, she wanted to know what was wrong with her mom and if this was the thing that would tell her if she was cursed, then so be it, and she didn’t need anyone’s okay.

They all nodded their agreement and went about teaching the correct way to handle this particular spell.


He crouched outside her window watching her pour colored sand on the carpet. He’d stayed away because she freaked him out horribly, and he just wasn’t ready to face that yet. She sat down on the other side of her bed and started to concentrate as she’d need to, tp complete this spell. He knew this from the witches, who he asked earlier in the evening, about how she was handling it all.

He’d even gone so far as to leave the crypt for a few days and visit some demon friends in another part of town. In no way, shape, or form did he want her around right now. He thought she’d gotten the drift and it was okay now to come have a look-see.

Minutes later, she rose, looking at her hands and then around her room. The trance she was in wasn’t going to last long and he hoped she’d find her mum before she lost it altogether. He stood up and jumped off the roof, headed for the front door.


A knock sounded and Buffy hurried down the stairs to answer it. Both her and her mother reached it at the same time, giving Buffy reason to look her over and see what could possibly be wrong with her. Joyce opened the door to a smiling Spike, who unbeknownst to Buffy, was there for his ‘appointment’. “Spike, “ she gestured with her hand, “please, come in and make yourself comfortable.”

Buffy was intently looking her mom up and down, barely registering that Spike was standing there.

“I can’t stay too long, Joyce. Have some buddies getting’ kind of jealous that I have a new friend that’ll help a bloke out when he’s down.” He shrugged off the duster, laying it on the back of the chair in the corner. His shirt came off next, ending up on top of the flowing black leather.

Buffy turned and looked at Spike, confused. “I take it this is the person who’s been helping you with your back?”

He laid down on the floor with his face down in his crossed arms. “Yep. She’s doing a right good job of it too. I figure she’d taken care of you enough times, that if I offer her my services of moving things around, you know, heavy stuff when she needed it, she wouldn’t mind.”

Joyce got on her knees and reached for some lotion. “He really is a good help. Comes when I need things done, and with you having all your slaying to do, he takes care of it for something so small and trivial.”

Buffy sat on the couch, making a small whine come out. “Where’d you go the other day, Spike? I came over to your crypt, but it was like pffft—you vanished.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Had some business to tend to. Nothing that concerned you, so I didn’t tell you. You’re not my keeper, Slayer.”

“Did he tell you he writes poetry, Mom?” She smiled smugly at him.

Joyce looked down at Spike, who, if he could have, would have blushed. “Really, William? You could read for us sometime, if you’d like. I know that since I’ve been in college, I’ve only been to one of two readings and they were when Buffy was maybe, 3? No, 4. Yes, she was 4 when I went to a reading. And even then, Hank made us leave early for a football game.”

Spike buried his face back in his arms, not answering.

“I’m sure he’d love to, Mom. Maybe he could go grab a little something after this and then we could all have a good reading?”

Joyce finished his massage, pulling herself to a standing position. “Don’t put him on the spot, Buffy. He can come over whenever he wants to read his prose.”

Buffy smiled. “I’m going upstairs. I have school tomorrow, and the gang said they’d patrol. Night.”

Joyce smiled at her daughter. “See you in the morning, Buffy.”


She pulled her top off and slid her shorts and panties down as well. She turned down her bed covers and climbed in, checking her alarm as soon as she was settled. The streetlight blinked out for a moment as she set the clock back down, and she stared at the ceiling, pondering why the trance had gone so terribly wrong.

“Slayer, why do you torment me so?”





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