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Lost and Found



Rated- PG13 (there might be some NC17 parts posted separately)

Spoilers- Buffy: Chosen, Angel: Soul Purpose

Summary- I’m fixing everything Joss messed up. How? With a spell, a ghost, some visions, an awakening, and a revised prophecy. Still don't know what this is about? Well, then read it and find out. B/S, A/X, A/C, D/C, and maybe F/W (that’s Faith and Wes. What do you think?)

Disclaimer- I don’t own Buffy or Angel. If I did I wouldn’t have to write this story

Chapter 15- You Think This is Funny, Huh?



Spike kissed the top of Buffy’s head. She was curled against him, sleeping peacefully. He was content in just listening to her breathing and heartbeat. It was the sweetest music he’d ever heard. Spike was tired as well but there was no way he was giving up another moment with his slayer to sleep. There could be no dream that came close to the real thing.

“You forgot about me, didn’t you?”

Spike lifted his head slightly, trying not to jar Buffy.

“Anya? Is that you, pet?”

“You know some other ghost?”

“Well there was. . . No, not at the moment.”

“I demand you get your compact body up and help me this minute!”

Spike jerked his head away from the side of the bed. “Bloody hell, don’t shout in my ear!”

“You’re a vampire, you can’t go deaf. Now, as I was saying ‘help me’.”

The vampire glanced down at his blond slayer. He didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

Spike shook his head. He relaxed against the pillow again. “Bother me again in seven hours.”

“Arrrgh!”

He could have sworn the room grew chillier.

Spike shut his eyes.

“I’m Henry the Eighth I am.”

Spike’s eyes shot open.

“I’m Henry the Eight I am. Henry the Eighth I am, I am. I’m married to the widow next door. She’s been married seven times before. And every one . . .”

“Good God, woman! Can’t you shut your gob so I can bask in my afterglow? I’ve waited four years for this,” Spike said.

“Did I sing it right? I’ve only seen Ghost twice.”

Spike growled in frustration. Buffy shifted, but didn’t awaken.

“If you wake her up. . .” he warned.

“I was nice enough to leave you alone for three orgasms,” Anya said.

“You were listening?”

“Yes. Have you learned some new moves since our bonding? I don’t remember screaming like that.”

Spike slapped his left hand to his forehead. “I’ve always liked you, demon girl, but right now you are making me at the end of my bloody rope.”

“I’ve had it!” Anya yelled. “That soul of yours should allow you to care about other people. Think about me for one moment. I died! I can’t touch anything!”

“Might know a thing about that myself,” Spike said.

She didn’t hear his comment, though, because she was busy continuing with her rant. “And here you are throwing the fact in my face. Don’t you think I’d love to be off having my own sex, with my Xander? He doesn’t even know I still exist. He thinks I went poof in the high school.”

“Which I also might know a thing or two about,” Spike replied. Actually, he knew ‘exactly’ how Anya felt. Her circumstance and his former one sounded so very similar.

Yet again Anya heard none of Spike’s words. “And we were about to get back together. The last time we had sex it was more than for pleasure. Not that it wasn’t pleasant. It was very pleasant. But there was also a connection.”

“Anya!”

“No, you will hear me out! I’m in pain here!”

The commotion caused Buffy to come to. She sat up in an abrupt motion, her elbow slamming into Spike’s face. That wasn’t all that happened. The bedside lamp slipped off the nightstand by an invisible force. It shattered. The startlement of the crash, combined with Buffy’s blow, caused Spike (who had been teetering on the edge) to fall off the bed with a thud.

“Hey, how’d I do that!?” Anya shouted.

Buffy looked down from her now sitting position on the bed. Her eyes lit up and she burst out laughing. Spike glared.

“Oh, my God, honey, I’m sorry,” Buffy managed between giggles.

“I need a bigger bed,” Spike said.

“How did I do that?” Anya repeated.

Spike glanced around at the empty air.

“How about a king-size?” Buffy suggested. “And a rug. I miss the rug.”

“I made the lamp break,” Anya said.

“I liked that lamp,” Spike declared.

Buffy noticed the lamp. She frowned. “Did you hit it on your way down?”

“I touched it and it moved,” Anya said in amazement.

Spike’s head cocked toward the voice. “Yeah, I forgot to mention that. Concentrate real hard. It’s all about the mind.”

Buffy scrunched up her face. “Spike, who are you talking to?”

Spike turned toward Buffy. He was about to answer when Anya talked again.

“Oh, teach me!”

Spike’s head whipped to the side. “I can’t talk to you women at once!”

Concern spread over Buffy’s expression. She swung her legs over the side of the mattress. The sheet slipped from her, exposing her bare body.

“Buffy, cover yourself!” Spike shouted.

“Huh?” Buffy said.

“Oh, come on, we’re both of the same gender,” Anya said.

Spike scanned himself. He was completely starkers. He didn’t really mind, there was nothing to hide. He was good looking and he knew it. Buffy, on the other hand . . . He wished she would wrap the gray sheet around herself again. Even if Anya was a female as well, he didn’t feel comfortable with her gawking at his woman. Well, she probably wasn’t gawking, but the fact that he couldn’t see her was making him imagine things.

“Spike, you aren’t going insane again are you?” Buffy asked.

He picked himself off the floor. “I’m not loony.”

“Just checking. Cause basement Spike was cute and all, but long-term I’d have to go with a non turn-on.”

Spike shook his head.

“Can we get back to my ghost issue?” Anya interrupted.

Spike clutched his head. “I take it back. I think all this may be making me fall off my rocker. Will you two bloody well slow down and not talk at once about two different topics?”

Buffy stood up. She grabbed Spike’s hands and held them. She met his gaze. “What is going on? Who are you talking to?”

Spike took a deep breath. “Anya.”

Furrowing her brow, Buffy said, “What? Anya died.”

“I know. She keeps reminding me too.”

“Spike, there is no one here but you and me.”

“She’s here.” He surveyed the room. “Somewhere.”

“I’m at the foot of the bed,” Anya informed.

“She’s at the foot of the bed,” Spike said.

“I don’t get it. Anya’s a ghost?” Buffy said.

“Ding, ding, luv, let’s see what is behind door number three.”

The slayer turned toward the end of the bed. She squinted. “Anya, hey. Sorry you had to die. Xander was pretty broken up about it. But you did a good thing saving Andrew, even if he’s a geek and annoying.”

“Xander misses me? Oh, I miss him too,” Anya said.

“How come you can hear her? Are you psychic?” Buffy asked Spike.

“Very much doubt so. Could never see the stars dance like Dru.” He shrugged. “Guess it’s cause I died. As in dust in the wind, and came back as a ghost.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You are all better now. We can fix Anya too.”

“Don’t know. Don’t know how it happened myself. I got this piece of mail is all.”

Buffy bit her lip. “There has to be something.”

“That’s right, Buffy. You tell him,” Anya said.

“Can’t hear you, pet,” Spike reminded the ghost.

“She can’t hear me?” Buffy inquired with confusion.

“Not you,” Spike said. “I was talking to Anya.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll see what we can do. Get Fred on it. The bird was close to finding a solution. Wes can do what he does best. Could Red go through her spells?”

“I’ll ask her,” Buffy said. “I’ll even get Giles on it. He’s really busy but I’m sure he can make some time to go through books.” Buffy paused. “Xander. Should we tell him?”

Spike’s eyes roamed the room. “Anya, would you like your honey-bunny to know you’re back?”

“Xander is not a bunny! How could you call him that? I know you never got along but that was uncalled for,” Anya said with anger.

Spike held out his palms in surrender. “Would you like the whelp to know you are thinking of him?”

“Yes, of course.”

He nodded. “Right then.”

Buffy smiled. “Don’t worry, Anya, we’ll make you all better,” she promised her friend.



Was this part amusing? That was my aim. Mostly conversation, I hope it wasn’t bad because it was mostly dialogue.





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