Yes I know I've posted this before. But now there've been a few changes, and some serious editing. Hope you'll enjy it.




Prolougue:


Buffy Anne Summers woke in bed with a gasp, hazel eyes wide in the darkness. Moonshine streamed through the open window, casting the bedroom in a wave of muted blue light. Somewhere out in the night evil was moving, creeping, coming closer as it scented blood.
“Ow.” Buffy grumbled slapping at her wrist. “Stupid mosquitoes.” Untangling her legs from the mess of her covers she padded softly across to her window, shivering in the draft of cool night air as she pulled it shut. Rubbing irritably at the back of her neck she surveyed the room. The shadowed hump of the dresser, a sleepy armchair in the corner by the window, the bed and its snarl of blankets and sheets. After several months it still just felt like “the room”. The sheltered cottage out in the green hills of Devon, (currently on loan from the Coven), had become a home of sorts. Xander, Willow, Dawn were all there, Giles was always dropping by to visit, but this room was still just a place she slept, not safe haven, not comfort or familiarity. She did miss her things, all her little nick-knacks, and clothes, Mr. Gordo, her posters. But that wasn’t it. Her room had barely seemed hers in the year before the battle. She’d moved out of her old room so Willow could have it, and before she’d really claimed her mom’s it was doing double duty as a dormitory. Truth was the basement more than anything had begun to seem like her room in those last few weeks because Spike was–Buffy closed her eyes with a grimace.
Spike was. But not anymore.
Buffy bit her lip, running a hand through her sleep tousled blonde hair. Ok Buffy depressing much? Let’s just not go there. Sighing, the small blonde trudged back over to the bed, wrestling her covers back into order she flopped wearily onto her back. She never slept on her side anymore. Every night after the battle she would fall asleep staring up at the ceiling, and every night she would wake up gasping, lying on her side, a gaping emptiness at her back. Tears leaking from her eyes as she tried to stop her body’s shaking from the nightmares of Spike and fire. The nightmares no longer came every night, but she still hated lying on her side, and she usually couldn’t sleep on her back either. Gritting her teeth Buffy punched her fists against her pillow, leaving her hands lying on either side of her tired face.
Damn you Spike. I bet you’re enjoying this aren’t you? Kicking back in some high heavenly place, with your infuriating smirk, loving every minute of the fact that I can’t sleep without you. Buffy could just picture him too: Eyebrows raised in mock surprise, blue eyes dancing.
“Oh damn.” Buffy whispered softly, the familiar pain of loss clenching across her gut. Abruptly she sat up, gathering her spare pillows from the floor around the bed she quickly piled them against the wall then spooned back against them waiting till they molded to her form. The Slayer closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist she imagined hard pale arms around her torso, snuggling back against the pillows she tried to feel a smooth firm chest and conjure up the smell of tobacco and leather, and also that spicy scent that she had never quite been able to name. Smiling softly to herself Buffy drifted back to sleep and into a dream.
She stood on a dunetop, looking over hills of sand and twisted trees. The sand was warm and comforting beneath her bare feet. Buffy closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the heat baking into her bones, lifting her face up to the cloudless blue sky she basked in the light like a cat. Like the cat that was currently curled by her feet, purring contentedly in the lazy air. Buffy inhaled deeply of the breeze as it whispered her hair against her bare shoulders, the smell of sand and heated air mingling with the sweet scent of baking wood. Crouching down next to the cat she reached out a hand to pet its fur and her hand closed over a small green shoot struggling up out of the sand.
“Hi there Kitty.” She whispered softly to it, gently stroking its small leaves. She was startled by a rumble of thunder low and threatening in the distance. Far over the hills a shadow was moving, a hazy indistinct billow of clouds.
“Storm’s comin.” A familiar voice stated. Buffy watched as the speaker cupped his hand around the flare of his lighter, flicking the ash away into the rising breeze.
“Spike.” she murmured, feeling no surprise.
“And a cupie doll for the lady.” The vampire smirked blowing out a thin stream of smoke as he lounged in the shadow of a nearby tree.
“I hope it won’t hurt my seedlings.” Buffy said a small frown creasing her forehead, shading her eyes with her hand she peered nervously at the black billows in the distance.
“Don’t worry luv,” Spike shrugged standing next to her, as the tree’s shadow shifted. “They need it to grow strong.”
“But it looks like a lot of rain, it won’t be too much for them?” She turned towards Spike anxiously.
He gazed thoughtfully at the sprout, head cocked to one side. “It might. That or–“ His glanced ticked behind them over the dunes where the heat waves shimmered. In the distance the trees were dying, leaving nothing but hills the color of gray ash.
“What does it want?” Buffy asked fretfully, turning to Spike for reassurance.
“Its all about the balance pet. Scales and wheels and an’ all that rot. Care for a go?” The hem of his black duster whsipered across the sand as Spike stepped back, fingertips trailing along the edge of a wooden see-saw. Buffy watched the seat dip in and out of the shadow.
“Will you join me luv?” Spike asked hopefully, holding out his hand. “I’ll teach you how it works.” Buffy peered at him as the shadow he was standing deepened to darkness. “I don’t think that’s something I’m supposed to know about.” She said primly, stepping back into the sunlight.
Spike gazed at her, sadly letting his hand drop back to his side.
“There’s a lot you don’t know luv. And you’ve barely even begun.”
“Your not making sense Spike.” Buffy glared at him stamping her foot in the sand.
He looked startled for a moment, then flashed his familiar smirk. “Sorry luv. Dream an’ all that, sort of supposed to be the kind of thing you figure out for yourself.” He flickered, and was once more lounging against the tree. “Storm’s comin.”





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