Angel walked slowly down the long steps that led to the basement. They creaked under his feet, and he looked thoughtfully around at the staircase, remembering ghosts of times that had long passed. Doyle, Cordelia, Wesley....So many people had come through his life, and then gone. Forever. His head spun from too much happening all at once, Wes was gone, away forever, Buffy was here for who knows how long, too much, too much...
“You sent me away.”
Angel looked up sharply. “Oh...yeah. I didn’t want you to scare the others.”
“Who?” The cold blue god asked. Angel looked at the basement floor, where the punching bag lay torn open, spewing its insides onto the concrete. Illyria stepped closer to him from the corner. “My senses are weakened from becoming...less than what I was. But I sense there is a great power above us.”
Angel nodded vaguely. “Sure as hell hope so.”
MEANWHILE
Who are I? Or, am....you....I...Buffy!”
“Buffy.” The blonde repeated, tasting the name.
“Buffy?” A deep, concerned voice sounded from a weakened stranger across the room.
“BUFFY!” Spike gasped, panting like after the second time he’d cheated death. Sitting straight up, he looked at the concerned witch to his left, head spinning. “Hmm?”
The girl pointed confidently at the red-head kneeling in front of her. “Apparently, this is Buffy.”
MEANWHILE
“Who are they. To you.” Illyria persisted.
“Willow’s a witch. Buffy’s friend, she’s...she’s done good. She gave me my soul back.” He thought for a second. “Um...twice.”
“And the girl? The one Spike loves?”
Angel looked up. How did she know that? Didn’t matter so much. “Buffy.” Buffy is... Buffy. What did Buffy mean to him? Hell if he knew. Once, they had been in love, more deeply than he thought possible. Then...when he had asked Buffy if she loved Spike, he had touched something deep, dark, in her. He still wasn’t sure just what. But if Spike hadn’t gone to find Buffy...yet when he came to the lobby, the almost painfully charged electricity flying from her fingertips to Spike had shocked him. And why had she hoped he hadn’t seen? “Buffy loves. Loved me, loves...me. Buffy is--”
“BUFFY!" He was interrupted by a distressed cry from an English-tilted voice from above their heads. Angel turned back to the stairs and bolted.
UPSTAIRS
“No! No, no.” Willow sighed, exasperated. The last thing they needed. “You, Buffy. Me, Willow. You’re a good person, help people, fight...bad things.” She turned to Spike. “Spike. You’re...good? Good. And you and Buffy are...um. And, and the reason you have no pulse is because you have a condition.” She nodded for emphasis. “Very serious, very. It’s, um, Vampyrstifilosis-sis. Sis.” She paused, trying to come up with something more convincing. “Sis.”
Spike stared.
“Thanks for the fill in, flight attendant ma’am. But, lucky for us, I’m not daft, so you can keep your information brochure to yourself, Red.” He rubbed his head. “Got a good jolt on the noggin, but patch me up and I’ll be just pepper soon enough.”
Willow’s turn to stare.
“What...you’re supposed to be all...amnesia-ed.” She pointed poutily. “Buffy is.”
“Wha? Wait, he got a whatzit on his whokit and soon he’ll be whenjit?”
They both stared.
“Well, she still talks like Buffy.” Willow pointed out helpfully.
Just then, Angel burst into the room. “Buffy!” The crowd crouched on the floor stared at him blankly. After a few seconds, a slayer raised her hand slowly.
“I think that’s me.” Spike finally scrambled up from the floor. “Ok, let’s figure this out in a very rational, well thought out fashion, taking turns asking questions, starting with--”
“What the hell is going on?!” At last, Gunn spoke up from where he lay on the bed. His world was still dark, and he recognized a few voices. First, Spike. At last, he had pinpointed one of the girl’s voices as Willow’s who had come up to do...something, he couldn’t remember, almost two years ago. The last was, of course, Angel. “OK, either y’all on crack, I got knocked a good one, or something funky’s goin on with magic. I right?”
“Gunn!” Angel cried, relieved.
“Mmmf.” Spike grunted, distracted.
“Ow.” Buffy commented, grimacing at Spike’s leg wound.
“OK!” Willow finally got everyone’s attention. “I think I know what’s going on here.” She turned to Gunn. “You can’t see, can you?” She asked him sympathetically.
“No. Can we fix that? And also, ow. I wouldn’t mind some aspirin around now.”
“Yah, we can, probably. Fix that.” Willow nodded, though Gunn didn’t know.
“I’ll get some aspirin.” Angel volunteered.
“Atually, why don’t you send Buffy...Buffy? That’s you.” Willow finally got the attention of Buffy, who had been staring hard at Spike’s face, as if trying to remember the words to an old song.
“Oh...yes. Present.”
“There’s some in my purse, it’s right down the hall and down the stairs, in the chair.” Angel began to protest at Buffy walking out by herself, not actually knowing where she was, but a look from Willow stopped him. The girl walked off, nervous, but for some reason she wasn’t sure of, not entirely scared. Willow waited until she was sure the girl was out of earshot.
“OK. Look, when I spilled this stuff on you and Buffy—I was using this stuff to help Gunn’s eyes, after I fixed all his mortal wounds--”
“Pssh. I woulda been fine. Slap a coupla Band-aids on, I’d pull through. Don’t need some chick to be workin mojo on me while I’m sleepin--”
“Half of it went on Spike,” Willow continued, ignoring Gunn, “And the other half- more or less- on Buffy. See, I think these halves are affecting you in different ways. Buffy, on one hand, can not see the past. And Spike...” She trailed off. “Well, we don’t know yet. But, eventually, we’ll know. And I’m thinking it’s gonna be of the not good.”
Spike nodded thoughtfully.
“Meanwhile, I think maybe we should try not to tell her too much of...everything. I mean, apparently she knows enough to know there are people and aspirin and stairs, but I think slayers and witches and vampires and demons and battles and fighting and killing and dieing--” Willow stopped herself as the others stared. She took a big breath and continued. “Might not be such a good idea to let her in on just yet.”
Angel broke in. “But won’t it be more traumatic when she notices her ability to, oh say, bend steel bars?” He was remembering another not-quite-pleasant experience with keeping supernatural information from a girl he had loved with amnesia. ‘Wow.’ He thought to himself. ‘History repeats itself.’
“Not if I can figure out how to fix this first.” Willow replied grimly.
“How, though?” Spike interrupted. “I mean, we don’t even know what’s gotten wonky in my brain yet. What if I end up just dropping dead one day?”
“What a tragedy.” Angel mumbled. After everything they’d been through, all the reconciliations, his jealously was rearing its ugly head with Buffy around. Spike glared.
“Spike’s glaring, ain’t he?” Gunn’s voice surprised them. Spike quickly let his eyes roam the room casually. “Look, sounds like a great idea, whatever. I think we got a bigger problem: them minions. They could come back anytime, and all we got is a cranky vampire, a vampire who may or may not drop dead at any second,”
“Hey!”
“A witch, a slayer who don’t know she’s a slayer, a blind dude, and a sulking ex-god.”
“You won’t be blind forever. And, what minions and ex-god?”
“Um...” Angel sighed. What he wouldn’t give for one of Harmony’s memos. “Long story.” He caught a whiff of Buffy coming back towards the room.
“Got some!” She announced, putting two pills in Willow’s hand. “So,” She sighed cheerfully, looking around the room. “What the hell?”
Sorry this chapter took so long. There were exams, and this funny "school" thing people make me do, plus the mocing to another stae... its just been madness. ENough reviews, i might just pull through *bats eyelashes*
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