It has been brought to my attention that this is a plagiarized story!! I have deleted this author's account and will add them to the hall of shame!!
You can read the original story, where it is posted in another fandom I love, Farscape:
Below is chapters 1&2 of the story posted here, for comparison. I really wish this would stop, you will always get caught. If you're a fan of scifi then it's likely that you follow many shows within that genre, so don't think that just because you're stealing from a fic outside the genre you're trying to pass it off as your in, that you won't get caught...Seriously, are you guys that starved for attention that you have to steal it from others? Well, Plagiarism won't make you famous, but it will make you infamous! Enjoy it
Part One: Old friends rejoice
What used to be New York 2025
A chilly wind swept over the barren landscape as a hooded, little figure slowly made is way towards a solitary building that obviously served as a bar.
Sound from laughter and an occasional fight drifted out from the open door and as the figure finally reached the bar she - because it was a middle-aged woman who looked out from under the hood, let her eyes roam over the place. Her weary gaze settled at a point in the back of the overcrowded place.
Two figures sat across from each other at a shadowed table near the back of the bar, both draped in long hooded cloaks. One of them, a woman, had the hood thrown back and warily scanned the room out of long habit, hunched over a bottle of beer that had been nursed way too long.
The leather clothing was worn and soft from many years of use; the stake in the belt had splinters and had seen better days.
Silver-touched blonde hair was tied tightly back from the still beautiful face. Sure it had some scars, but they only served to enhance the effulgent beauty.
If one would look closer tough, they would see the weariness and lingering grief in her stone cold expression and in the pale skin. She hadn’t always been pale, but working the night shift did that to a woman.
Her mouth was a thin slash, lips compressed by years of holding the grim expression that the face was wont to wear. Only the hazel eyes had life if anyone cared to look deeply enough, full of enduring pain.
And Willow cared to look. And her heart broke just a little bit more - as it did every time she saw her old friend these days.
A pale hand raised the bottle and tipped the remaining beer into the grim mouth as the visitor reached the table.
"Buffy. It’s been a long time."
Deep, darkened eyes studied her. The pitiless years of slaying, death and sadness had stripped Buffy’s innocence to a mere suggestion of what it had once been.
Willow looked in vain for the woman that she had fought with and killed for. The woman that once would have done anything to remain happy.
"Willow. You look great." Buffy said evenly, staring at the table in front of her.
Willow sighed. She hadn’t expected it to be easy, but Buffy was already making it as difficult as always. Stubborn as only she could be.
It was the one great regret of her life that she had never been able to heal the open wound that all of those surviving the battle still shared. It gnawed at them that Buffy still persisted in following her bleak course. Angel with his boiling anger at Buffy’s actions. Xander, still hoping that his friend wasn’t totally gone, and Dawn who never could accept that her sister had cut herself out of the team.
Every few years Willow was driven to find Buffy to try to make her see reason, but Buffy never listened. It already looked as though this time would be no different.
"How is he?" she asked, resigned.
Buffy looked up at her with a cold stare and said nothing.
Steeling herself, Willow moved to the other side of the table to stand next to the silent figure seated across from Buffy.
She pushed back the hood, gently placed her hands on either side of the slack face and bent down to look into the blank blue eyes for any sign of recognition.
He was still the most beautiful creature she ever seen, with his hair just a little bit longer than last time she saw him and the toned body - but there were no life left in him. No spark at all.
"Spike, it’s Willow," she said softly, tears catching at the back of her throat.
He raised his eyes to her face in response to his name. His vacant gaze touched her eyes for a moment, and then slid off to focus on a point over her shoulder.
"He can’t remember you."
"I know, but I hoped . . ."
"There is no hope," Buffy said in a tired voice. "Why are you here, Willow?"
Straight to business. That at least was the same.
"It’s been so many years, Buffy. It’s never going to change. You keep holding onto the past and it’s killing you. Spike wouldn’t want this."
Willow laid a compassionate hand on Buffy’s arm. Buffy stiffened and rose abruptly to her feet, reaching for her stake. Willow let her hand slide away with a pang of regret. They had been close once, almost like sisters. Now Buffy behaved as if she were some diseased demon pawing at her.
"This conversation is over, Willow."
"Wait Buffy, hear me out. Please.”
"Okay, but only because we were friends once."
The Slayer sat down again and folded her hands in front of her on the table.
Willow would only have a few moments to make her case; Buffy would not allow more than that.
"I… We all miss you. Everything has changed since the war," she said, watching for any response from Buffy.
"The world is not as we know it… Not yet. But we are on the right path and it seems that the peace will last. So, we thought, that you might want to join us… You and Spike. Then you could live with us and enjoy the peace…”
Buffy shook her head and smiled bitterly. "What makes you think that I want peace? I am a warrior."
Her standard answer for everything. Willow had hoped that Buffy would have tired of the constant fighting by now.
Most slayers retired after ten or fifteen years, or found a heroic way to die in battle. She suspected that Buffy would have preferred the second option, but the fact was that Buffy couldn’t allow herself to be killed. There would be no one to care for Spike.
"Then let me take Spike with me. We might find a way to help him."
"There is nothing that can be done for him. Spike is my responsibility. I’ll take care of him."
"Buffy, let me do something," Willow said desperately, clenching her fists to control her frustration.
"You’ve shut all of us out. We want to help you."
"The way Angel tried to help when it happened?" Buffy asked, leaning forward.
Unaccustomed intensity animated her features.
"I was barely able to stop him in time."
"Would it have been such a bad thing if you hadn’t?" Willow asked softly. "How much are you supposed to bear? It was a mistake."
Buffy swallowed hard and sat back into the shadows.
"It was my fault," she said in an emotionless voice. "My lack of judgment. There will never be too much to bear."
Willow blinked away the tears as she stared down at the motionless man that sat there; unaware of the turmoil he created by just being alive. Well alive would be to exaggerate. She swallowed and let the memories wash over her.
Part Two: Memories
They’d been under attack; one of countless battles taking place after the fight in L.A.
Buffy, Angel and Spike were in one position, Willow and Xander about twenty meters away.
Buffy had tried to have Xander assigned as her partner, but Willow was playing matchmaker that day. After a year and a half she was still trying to mend Buffy’s relationship with Spike and assigned him as the slayer’s partner instead.
"Hopeless romantic," she’d thought wearily as she trudged off of the car with Xander yapping behind her. In the corner of her eye she could clearly see Buffy and Spike bicker – as usual.
The blonde slayer had never quite been able to forgive Spike for not telling her that he’d been alive all that time – and in L.A with Angel none the less.
And Spike had never been able to let the subject of the Immortal rest. Even tough it had been months since their ‘reunion’ the two of them barely spoke to each other and it was really getting on Willows’ nerves.
It had been while Willow tried to think of a way of reunite the two ex-lovers that she had seen a magical bolt flying in Buffys’ direction. Unable to stop in time she had screamed Buffys’ name and at the very same instant Spike had jumped in front of the slayer and taken the blast upon him.
The vampire had fallen to the ground with a groan and then remained there, motionless. Buffy had been frantic.
"Spike!" she had screamed with horror in her eyes.
Angel had rushed in, scooped the downed man into his arms and ran to a safer location with Buffy pounding in his wake. There Angel had laid his friend on the ground, and started to check him over for wounds. Wounds that couldn’t be found…
"What’s wrong with him?" Buffy had asked anxiously from behind the vampire, peeking over his shoulder.
"Angel, what’s wrong with him?" she’d cried then shoved her way past him and dropped to her knees to check for herself.
Spike was pale and still, his head turned slightly away from her. His eyes were half-closed and slightly crossed, fixed on nothing. It was too a terrible sight to see.
"Spike, can you hear me?"
He didn’t react when Angel slapped him lightly on the face, or when Buffy pinched the loose skin on the back of his hand between her nails.
Willow slipped through, with Xander close behind.
"What happened? Is Spike going to be all right?"
"We’ll discuss what happened later," Angel said.
He glanced at Buffy, who stared at Spike in a daze. "He’s unconscious.”
”Let me look at him.”
Willow kneeled beside Spike, laying a hand on his chest. And as soon as she did that, her whole body convulsed and she stumbled screaming away from Spike.
"Oh, my goddess…” she was hyperventilating, making Buffy scared beyond imagination.
”What’s wrong, Will?”
”There’s nothing there.” the witch cried, shaking in Angel’s arm to which she had sought refuge.
”He’s mind is gone. Spike’s gone…”
"He can’t be dead," she whispered.
"Strictly speaking, he is not dead," Willow said. "His body is perfectly healthy but his mind is totally gone. I’m sorry, Buffy…”
Her friend shook her head and meet Willow’s gaze. And the witch twitched in Angel’s arms, making him release his grip, when she saw how cold Buffy’s eyes seemed.
”He’ll be alright,” the Slayer said with grim determination.
”We’ll find away to make him better. In the meantime, I want you to put a spell on him, so that he appears normal.”
”I can do that,” Willow whispered. ”But you know it wouldn’t be Spike, right? Not the real Spike anyway. He would walk, talk and act similar to him… but it wouldn’t be him.”
"The mere suggestion sickens me," Angel said with revulsion.
The idea of an animated Spike was almost too much to bear.
"Spike is dead. We should grant him an honourable death."
Angel grimly swung his sword up over Spike were he lay.
"No, Angel!" Buffy cried, catapulting herself at the vampire. She knocked him off-balance, just enough for the blade to miss Spike and hit the ground instead.
"Buffy, he’s gone." He dropped his sword and grabbed her arms, forcing her to look at him.
"Let me end it. Let him go. "
"I can’t," she said simply. She stood unflinching in Angel’s fierce grasp, braving the tears in his eyes and the fury on his face.
"Willow... Perform the spell."
"Buffy, no," Willow breathed, grief twisting her features. "Not this."
Angel thrust Buffy away from him as if she were covered in filth.
"You cold slayer bitch," he hissed.
"You choose this obscenity to show your love for him. But I tell you it’s wrong and I won’t have anything to do with it!”
He stormed from the room, his sword clenched in his bloodless fist.
Buffy swayed, stunned by Angel’s words. She hadn’t let herself recognize until that moment that Spike had fallen in her place.
He always seemed to sacrifice his own life for hers. Over and over again. She just wanted a chance to do the same for him.
Xander had stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching as events unfolded. He now moved to stand beside Buffy.
”You and I know better than anyone here how Spike faces death," he said quietly.
"He would not want this for himself, or for you." He held out his hand to her.
"We should leave, Buffy. And let him rest in peace," he said, holding her with his gaze.
For a moment it seemed that she would take his hand and allow him to lead her from the scene. Then her face shifted as she regained possession of herself and she turned away.
"No. The spell will be done."
And the spell had been done. To Willows’ dismay and the others horror.
After the spell was completed, they scattered throughout the US to either fight in or hide from the war.
Buffy bought a car and took Spike with her; his impassive eyes her personal flail. And it had been years before anyone ever saw the two of them again.
It had been Willow, who tracked them down with a locator spell that showed up at Buffys’ small apartment.
The witch remembered the cold look in Buffys’ eyes as she noticed who had been on the other side of the door.
That visit hadn’t gone so well. Neither did the next one or the one after that. There was no way to reach through to Buffy. Not even Dawn could manage that.
So they had given up. Sort of anyway. They still sent Willow every few years to check up on the wayward slayer and her vampire. And now she was here again – to no avail as it seemed.