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Author's Chapter Notes:
I've put all the warnings up because although this chapter doesn't contain the nasty stuff, i want to make it clear where we're going
Spike woke up to hear Xander singing quietly to himself in the kitchen, but no hangover, for the first time in what seemed years, no pain, no cringing from the sunlight, no stomach cramps, just hunger and a need for coffee.

‘Morning Xander, how are you this fine morning?’

‘Great, but what have you done with my friend, you know the one that doesn’t wake until about 10 and always has a hangover?’

‘He’s on holiday, so I thought I’d stay here for a while.’

‘OK: in fact great, prefer not being sworn at anyway.’

Xander handed over a cup of coffee and a plate of toast to the blond man standing at the counter. He took a good look at his friend. Spike’s eyes seemed alive for the first time in a long while.

‘Sleep well, did we?’ asked Xander.

Spike nodded. ‘Weird dreams, though, really weird.’

‘How’s day one clean?’ Xander asked.

‘Not as bad as I thought it would be. In fact I feel really really good.’

‘I’m glad, just remember I’m here if you need me.’

Spike nodded at his friend and started in on his coffee.


He thought back to how the mess started life had been hard and a case of fighting not to give in to the darkness around him. Money was tight and Spike worked all the hours he could to make ends meet. Xander had seen him spend more and more time with her, Dru; he neglected his friends, his writing, everything. Nothing mattered but Dru and Spike’s acting. Now she was gone and although it was a relief it left a huge hole in his life. A hole that drugs and drink had filled but now it was barren space.
Now that was over, he had a future to build.

Spike threw himself into his acting. Small parts seemed to come his way, enough to help pay the bills, to see food on the table as well, especially now the pushers weren’t getting hold of his wage packet. Regular gigs singing with his guitar paid for the extras but he wasn’t rich, just not poor anymore.


Spike’s dreams still haunted him. Dru introduced him to all sorts of things. Drugs, sex, wild passionate sex and weirdness. And they came back to him in his dreams, he hoped they were dreams, he hoped to God that he hadn’t done anything like that for real. He dreamed of girls screaming as he held them down, men swearing at him as they were violated. Please let them be nightmares, and not memories.

Although it had been a dream, Spike could remember every word that the strange Englishman, dressed in tweed, had told him. They would help; providing he respected the rules to the place, they would help. Spike wondered what they wanted from him, what the true price would be if he agreed. Selling his soul? Not that he believed people had souls. They didn’t, he was sure, you lived you died, that was it but before he went to sleep that night, Spike said, ‘I’d like to ask more questions if it’s allowed?’ and still sober for a change, he went to sleep.

William awoke with bright sunlight in his eyes again and the sound of birds in his ears. He sat up and looked around the Garden again; there was the cute blonde he’d seen last time. She seemed to be waiting for him.

‘I thought I’d show you the way to Giles’ library, it’s too easy to get lost here.’

‘Do I get to see you every time I come here, pet? ‘Cause if I do I think I might like to stay.’

‘No, no staying. And I’m just a temporary guide as far as I know. In here.’

‘Where exactly are we? I’m told it’s not heaven but it seems like it to me.’

It’s difficult to explain; it’s sort of a halfway house if you like. Not all the way to heaven, but nearer than earth. We can feel here, and eat and drink, but it’s more heavenly than down there.’

‘Right.’ Spike looked at her as though she were mad, but her explanation seemed right, crazy but right.

They had been talking all the way to the library. William hadn’t really noticed where they’d walked, he’d just seen the girl by the side of him. And she was gorgeous, green eyes flashing with laughter, they looked like dew on a spring leaf.

‘Ah, Mr. Atherton, you said you wanted to ask some more questions? Well fire away,’ Giles said.

‘Call me Spike, please. Mr. Atherton makes me sound so old.’

‘Very well then Spike, you said that you wanted to ask some more questions, work out the catch maybe?’

‘Yeh that’s it exactly, what’s the catch?’

‘Nothing: as I told you before, I really advise you not to tell all and sundry about your dreams, there are many who would think you mad, and we ask you to respect those here, no bursting into the hospital and announcing ‘YOU’RE ALL DEAD’ for instance, as it tends to upset the staff, but that’s it. No catch. We have been asked to intervene on your behalf by an eloquent lady who said you were worth the trouble, and we have agreed to offer help. We will assist your recovery, but you have to do the work yourself.’ Giles was kind as he explained.

‘What would it involve? I mean do I go into a coma for a year, or what?’

‘No nothing like that, although there are some here who… sorry, I will ramble sometimes, no nothing like that. Occasionally, when you need, you will come up here in your sleep and talk with friends, real friends who will listen, and buy you a coffee, and help get you off your, as my son puts it, ‘sorry ass’ and get you back on your feet again.’

The words ‘sorry ass’ coming from Giles’ mouth seemed very strange. They were incongruous with the face and demeanour of a middle aged librarian.

‘So long as I’m not selling my soul or expected to break any laws, I think I’ll take up your offer.’

‘Wonderful. I’ll take you to meet Elizabeth, she’s excellent at this sort of thing, but I’m always here if you need me.’

Giles stood up and made his way towards the huge French windows only to be distracted by the sight of a small boy running into his library.

‘Uncle Giles, Uncle Giles!’ He screeched.

‘Ah, Matthew, what can I do for you?’

‘I want to ask you…’ the boy saw Spike and started to gulp, ‘sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

‘The time to answer your question is when you ask it, I’m sure Spike won’t mind me spending a couple of minutes on you. Now Matty, what was it you wanted?’

‘Well I’m dead, I know that, so I was wondering if it was possible for me to ride an elephant.’

‘How do you know you’re dead?’ inquired Giles.

‘I had cancer and couldn’t do anything, now I can run and swim and everything and I don’t feel ill any more, but Mum and Dad aren’t here, but Granny is and she died so I must have as well.’

‘Yes little one, you died, and yes I’m sure we can find an elephant for you to ride, shall we go and see? Do you mind if we take a small detour before I introduce you to your councillor?’

‘No that’s fine, you’re in charge of this dream so you lead the way.’

Giles went out of the library window and into the gardens. He took a path leading through a copse of trees and stopped by a fence that seemed to run for miles.

‘Ellepant, Ellepant,’ he called, his voice echoing over the grassland in front of them. The little boy was jumping up and down in excitement when an enormous elephant came out of the forest and towards them. It was the biggest bull elephant that Spike had ever seen. It must have been 14 foot high at the shoulder, if it wasn’t bigger. It charged towards them and Spike made a grab for the little boy to try and protect him, but Giles just stood there. The elephant slowed as it came up to the fence and gently laid his trunk on Giles’ shoulder. Giles searched his pockets and brought out some mints, which he held out for the great beast. The elephant gently searched the outstretched hand with his trunk and delicately lifted up the mints. Giles handed the rest of the packet over to Matthew, who was watching the whole scene open-mouthed.

‘Is this what you wanted?’ asked Giles. It was all Matty could do to nod.

‘This young man wants a ride, would you oblige?’ Asked Giles of the gentle giant.

Ellepant turned his body sideways to the fence to allow Matty to climb up and, aided by the giant trunk, Matty was soon riding high and screaming with delight. The last Spike saw was Mathew handing over mints to the trunk held over the giant’s head and them racing off into the distance.

Giles turned back and retraced his steps along the forest path.

‘Sorry about that but we’ve been waiting for a breakthrough with Matthew for nearly five years. He’ll be fine now.’

‘Five years? He’s been dead five years?’

‘Oh yes, but he was so ill, it took a while for his mind to be able to get over the shock. Now why don’t I take you for a nice drink and introduce you to the young lady who will be helping you.’

Their wanderings had led them to he door of a pub, the sort of place you would have seen in a British Movie of the 1950’s. Quaint, sweet, British. Old beams and small tables, a dartboard and a billiards table. People were sitting around drinking and chatting. It seemed quiet and civilised, a village pub on any evening of the week. Giles went up to the bar and came back with two pints of something dark and bitter. Real English ale, in a real village pub.

‘A drink: my life is dictated by alcohol and you offer to help me by buying me a drink?’

‘You’re not an alcoholic Mr Atherton, you simply abuse the substance at the moment. If you misused knives, would you refuse surgery because the surgeon has to use a knife on you? No, but here we don’t intend to teach you not to drink, after all one of our greatest teachers was known to love a good party but we want you to look at the reason you use it as a sedative. Now shall we go into the pub?’

‘Well you can’t get closer to heaven that this for me,’ said William.

‘Oh I bet we could, but for now this will have to do,’ Giles added. With a smile.

The men sat and enjoyed the atmosphere for a while, a group of musicians started playing quietly in the corner their laughter rang from the rafters and echoed around the bar. The sun was streaming in through the window, even the bees were buzzing lazily, as though it were time for a siesta.

The door opened again and Spike looked up to see who was entering this tranquil idyll. The sun was so bright it made it hard to see the face, but it was obviously a woman from the outline. She spotted Giles and waved, went to the bar and got herself a glass of something then headed over to join them. Giles stood up and pulled out a chair for the approaching woman.

‘Elizabeth, my dear, you look radiant.’

‘Rupert Giles, you always say the sweetest things.’ She turned to look at Spike and her face lit up with an inner beauty all its own.

‘Effulgent.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Sorry, hi again, Buffy, I never did get a chance to thank you for coffee the other day.’

‘You’re welcome, I enjoyed it as well. I didn’t realise you were to be my next project or I would have used my full name. Buffy’s what all my friends call me, but Giles has always used my Sunday name, Elizabeth. Now how about a game of pool? And we can talk as we play.’

Spike nodded and carrying both drinks, went over to the pool table and started to rack up.





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