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A/N This story is going on a short break (don’t panic- it’s only for the rest of the weekend). I like to stay two chapters ahead of the reader so I can have room to change the plot and rewrite if something isn’t working (trust me- it happens a lot!) and I no longer have that margin to work with. BAD case of writer’s block- although it is currently over, now I just have to start writing. Anyway, I plan to put in some long hours (hopefully) on this one over the weekend and I will have a new chapter to you by Monday- I guarantee it (barring computer crashing). I hope I left it with a high note (I didn’t want to be mean and leave a huge cliffhanger) and I love absolutely all the reviews that I’ve gotten. Thank you so much! Oh, and in case you’re wondering, no plans to put Intimate Enemies on hold, I’ve been working on it the past few days and I should be updating fairly regularly. Thanks for understanding!


Chapter 11 - Remember


The Scoobies, the Master, Angelus, Acathla, Faith, The Mayor, Riley, Dawn, Glory, the portal…

* * * * *

Angel and Wesley looked up from the prophecy they were trying to decipher
to see Buffy slowly walking down the stairs.

“Buffy, are you alright?” Angel asked, standing up to walk over to her as
she looked at him in confusion.

“Angel?” her voice was laced with uncertainty. “Where am I?”

Both Angel and Wes looked at each other, starting to get worried. “You
don’t know?” Angel asked her as she looked around the lobby and out into the
darkening night.

“Dawn,” Buffy said with clarity in her voice. “I-I have to save Dawn.”

“Yes, Buffy, you’ve done that,” Wesley said, coming to stand next to Angel.

“I did? I did…I jumped,” Buffy replied, her eyes widening. “I jumped off
the tower…how am I here?”

“You remember?” Angel asked in disbelief. “You remember who you were?”

“Who I was? Angel, what are you talking…”

Her mouth dropped open as more memories assaulted her. Images of her with
her family, only it wasn’t Joyce and Hank, it was two strangers. Except
they weren’t strangers- they were her parents. Growing up, her brain
recalled two different sets of memories. She couldn’t decipher the fine
line between Buffy Summers and Elizabeth Winters. She had strength, she had
lost her family, she’d met the people who she once knew, she…Spike!

“Spike,” Buffy whispered, running both hands through her hair. “I need
Spike,” she whimpered, nearly falling to the floor. Angel caught her,
nodding to Wesley, who turned and ran up the stairs as Angel put her down on
the couch.

“Are you okay, Buffy?” he asked, standing next to her.

Buffy looked up and noticed him towering over her. “Were you always this
tall?” she asked, not remembering ever feeling overwhelmed by Angel until
this minute.

Angel smiled. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Remember,” Buffy repeated, putting her face in her hands.

Hearing a noise, Buffy was about to look up when she heard the distinct
British accent. “What’s wrong, luv?”

Her hands were gently pulled away from her face as she stared into Spike’s
deep cobalt eyes as he crouched in front of her. “Spike?” she asked,
tenderly touching his face. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Angel
and Wesley backing away, presumably to give Buffy some space to deal with
her memories and not to leave the couple alone. “It’s you,” she whispered,
tracing the sharp edges of his cheekbones.

“What’s wrong, pet? Wesley said you needed me.”

“I do,” she whispered, feeling tears begin to threaten her. “I do,” she
repeated as she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his
shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Buffy, what’s-“

“I remember,” she said in a strangled voice, pulling away to look into his
eyes again. “I remember everything.”

She felt Spike’s muscles go rigid against her fingertips as he stared at
her. Very slowly, he got to his feet and began taking a few steps away from
her.

“Spike?” she said, standing to look at him with a confused expression.

“You’re back,” he mumbled. It wasn’t a question, and Buffy could hear the
dismay that seemed to thread its way through his voice.

“Yeah,” she said, taking a hesitant step toward him. “It’s me, Spike.”

“Right then,” he said, turning and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

“Patrolling,” he called over his shoulder as he walked through the door.

Buffy stared after him in disbelief before tightening her jaw. “On no you
don’t,” she muttered as she stalked toward the door. “You’re not running
away from me, mister.”

Spike heard the hurried footsteps behind him but didn’t bother turning
around. Feeling a hand on his arm, he was surprised when he felt himself
spinning around to face an outraged Buffy.

“Bloody hell!” he yelled. “You nearly tore my soddin’ arm out of its
socket!” He seemed to pause for a moment as he looked at her hardened
expression, his own features closing off, not wanting to be vulnerable
around her. “Good to have you back, Slayer,” he said in a low tone.

“Don’t,” she said in a falsely subdued tone. “You don’t get to call me
that, you jerk.”

“And there she is,” Spike muttered with a sigh as he looked at the ground.

“Why are you acting like this, Spike?”

“Because everything is different now, Summers!” he cried, throwing his arms
out to emphasize his point.

“So, I should have just acted like I was fine? That I didn’t remember who I
used to be so you wouldn’t treat me like I’m some kind of outcast?”

“I’m not treating you like an outcast, Summers, I’m going back to the way it
was!” he yelled.

“WHY?!” she yelled back, taking a step closer to him in her anger. “Why the
hell do you think I want it the way it was?”

Spike was at a loss for words as she advanced on him.

“Why, Spike? I told you that she wasn’t me.”

“She is now,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not either of them…I’m both, don’t
you see that? I’m just me. That’s all I know how to be, Spike.” She
stared at him for a minute, trying to gauge his reaction before continuing.
“You don’t think I remember everything, do you? That I don’t remember
coming on to you and you turning me away? That I don’t remember kissing you? That I don’t remember you being my friend?” she trailed off in a whisper.

“Buffy-“ Spike began, shaking his head, only to be cut off.

“You’ve been there, Spike,” she said softly. “You’ve been there for me,
when no one else has. I still need that…I still need you.”

“You don’t need anyone, Slayer,” Spike replied, trying to fight the torrent
of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him.

“I need you, Spike,” she whispered, closing the distance between them. “I
need to know you’ll be here.”

“I’ll always be here, Buffy,” he said in a choked voice, not sure how much
more of this he could take.

“With me?” she asked timidly as she reached out and grasped his hand in her
own.

Spike stared at her, not sure he knew what she was asking. Not sure if he
wanted to know.

“You said we’d talk about it when I got my memories back,” she said softly,
looking into his eyes. “So…do you still love me?”

Spike squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes,” he whispered in a husky voice. “I
never stopped. I tried, but I couldn’t stop.”

Before he realized what was happening, her lips were on his. Not wanting to
think, his arms wrapped around her waist as they brutally kissed each other,
both needing reassurance from the other as they fought for dominance. Buffy
surrendered, letting Spike take control, as his hands came up to her face.
Buffy moaned as she felt his tongue lightly brush against hers, tightening
her hold on him at the lightheaded sensations he was causing her.

The frantic pace slowed down after a few moments as they gave in to each
other, slowly breaking away as Buffy gasped for some much needed air. Spike
found himself inhaling as he stared down at her flushed face and swollen
lips.

Reaching out to gently stroke her cheek, Spike tilted his head to gaze at
Buffy as she stared back at him. Slowly reaching up to take his hand away
from her face, she smiled as she interlaced their fingers before taking a
step closer to him.

“It’s me,” she whispered.





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