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“Whoops?” Spike stared at her in disbelief. “Bloody hell, slayer, you outta know by now not to be sayin’ ‘I wish’ on the soddin’ Hellmouth!”


A cacophony of sound droned in their ears, as the vibrant ball pulsed and grew to such magnitude that they were forced to throw their hands up, shielding themselves from a sudden burst of blinding light. At once it felt as if the air had been sucked from the room, and Buffy gasped as vague shapes began to form inside the captivating sphere.


Entranced, she leaned into Spike’s arm, squeezing his hand compulsively as the wraithlike figures twisted and arched in their seamless dance. “What is it?” Buffy whispered in a tremulous voice as the ghostly spectres solidified, and she recognised the distinct image of her much-younger self. In a rush her words came back to haunt her, and Buffy’s stomach twisted into knots as she realised exactly where this was heading.


I wish you could see... Stupid literal interpretation! Why didn’t I wish for a million dollars... or a Prada gift certificate?


Willow stared at the unfolding scene with confusion clearly etched on her face. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she said, slowly backing away. “It was just a simple spell. How is this possible?”


Ignoring the Wiccan’s question, Spike squinted at the amber gem and leaned down to whisper in Buffy’s ear. “Looks like our Sabrina’s got herself a B’traxic crystal,” he said with a chuckle. “Best hold on tight, love. This could be an interestin’ ride.”


Buffy frowned at his obvious amusement. “You think this is funny?” she asked turning to face him. “There’s a mystical ball of this-is-my-life cheesiness playing out in my living room and you’re laughing?”


Spike shrugged as he watched the impromptu slideshow enfold. “You made a wish, pet. Said you wanted ‘em to see, an’ there it is... in full Technicolor glory—nice pigtails by the way. The Dorothy look suits you.”


“Oh, shut it, Toto!”


A sensuous growl rumbled beside her ear as Spike’s lips curled into a practised smirk. “So I’m a naughty dog, huh?” he asked with a devilish glint in his eye. “And all these years I thought I was a pig... Though if you wanna stick with the barnyard talk, I s’pose I am hung like a horse...”


“Spike!”Buffy cried, giving his arm a none-to-gentle swat. “Stop being a perv, and tell me about this toxic thingy.”


“B’traxic,” he replied with an exasperated eye-roll. “Rare beastie—runs in the same circles as demon girl and her vengeance lot. That pretty gem over there is s’posed to be part of an amulet.” Spike paused as the image of his girl skating around an ice rink appeared in the orb. She was wearing something pink and frilly, and it immediately inspired all manner of debauched fantasies. “Nice outfit, slayer, the judge’s approve.”


“Spike, focus.”


“Right. Yeah, sorry. So anyway, a B’traxi has the power to grant wishes. Problem bein’ they’re thick as two short planks, and these beauties,” he said, nodding at the aforementioned amber stone, “have a tendency to get mislaid. Hence the reason this little wish-granter ended up in Red’s not-so-capable hands.” Willow blanched under the weight of his sarcasm, and Spike’s lips curled into a victorious smirk. “It’s a bloody shame really. If I’d ‘ve known about that gem, I guarantee the whelp’d be talkin’ out his arse in more ways than one.”


Xander should feel blessed that the crystal had already activated, because otherwise Spike would have been sorely tempted to wish the bug zapper out of his brain and really shake things up a bit.


Unyielding, Buffy met his gaze. “What do we do now?” she asked, folding her arms as she entered full slayer-mode. “How do we stop it?”


Spike arched a brow at her indignant glare. “There’s nothin’ we can do, love. I’ve seen ‘em before. You’ve just gotta let these things run their course, an’ be grateful you didn’t wish for anythin’ worse.” His features hardened as he glanced between the two scoobies. “All things considered I’d say they got off lightly. There’s plenty of hell dimensions would love to boost their numbers with these two pillocks.”


Sensing a dangerous shift in her vampire’s mood, Buffy attempted to distract him. “Okay, percepto-vamp,” she said, subtlety manoeuvring into his eye-line. “You’re just a fountain of demony knowledge tonight aren’t ‘cha?”


Spike grinned. “Don’t look so surprised, pet. I’ve been around a fair few years. ‘m not just a pretty face, you know?”


Rolling her eyes, Buffy smiled in spite of herself. Her attention returned to the orb as images of her carefree childhood were rapidly replaced with those of a more familiar nature. Merrick, vampires, and the burning gym of Hemery high school, all flicked by like pages of a book. Her parent’s acrimonious divorce, Willow, Xander... Jesse—the first Sunnydale resident she’d failed to save from Darla’s clutches.


Come on, slayer. I like it when you're scared.


Buffy inhaled sharply as she saw herself pinned beneath a hyena-possessed Xander.


The more I scare you, the better you smell.


Everything happened so quickly.


A territorial growl filled the air, and in a blur of motion, Spike crossed the room and shoved Xander against the wall. He flinched as the chip fired, but his sights were set on the cowering human in his grasp, and his demon was clamouring for retribution. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” he shouted, tightening his hold on Xander’s clothing and shaking him violently. “You tried to attack her? You tried to—” Snarling, Spike fisted his hands in the whelp’s shirt, and lifted the terrified scoobie into the air. “What good did your precious soul do then, boy?”


“Spike, no!” Buffy wasn’t sure to what extent the chip could debilitate the vampire, but she was desperate to separate them before Xander suffered a serious case of deadness, and she was forced to witness first-hand the damaging aftermath.


Unnoticed by the trio, Willow slumped backwards onto the couch. Her hands covered her mouth as she shook her head, transfixed by the images that flashed before her. The Master, Acathla... Angelus.


Now that's everything, huh? No weapons... No friends... No hope. Take all that away... and what's left?


A trickle of blood ran from Spike’s nose as his chip protested his violent actions. “How dare you question me?” he demanded. “You’re supposed to be her friend, and all you lot do is upset her. I may be a goddamn vampire but I’d never hurt her like—”


Buffy’s small hand closed around his forearm. “Please, Spike,” she said, gazing at him with pleading eyes. “Let him go. He didn’t know what he was doing.”


“Yeah, that’s right,” Xander replied hoarsely, as he was dropped unceremoniously back to his feet. “I was possessed... it wasn't my fault!” Shamed, he hung his head, unable to face the disgust in the vampire’s eyes. “I-it was the hyena. I didn’t—”


“Oh, cry me a bloody river.”


Giles’ reassuring tone echoed from the sphere, and Buffy spun at the sound of her watcher’s voice.


I've been reading up on my animal possession, and I cannot find anything, anywhere about memory loss afterwards.


Did you tell them that?


Your secret dies with me.


“You told me you couldn’t remember...” The Slayer’s voice was a timid whisper as she trembled before her friend. “Giles said... Oh god, he lied to me too...”


Xander’s head jerked up at the defeated quality of her voice. Swallowing hard, he moved to grasp her arm. “Buffy, I’m sorry. I—”


Visibly shaking she stumbled back, avoiding his touch, as the raw pain of yet another betrayal brought tears to her eyes. Instinctively, Spike reached for Buffy’s hand, entwining their fingers as he drew her behind him. “Word of advice, Harris... one more step an’ I’ll tear you limb from bloody limb.” The vampire’s voice dripped with contempt, as his demon fought to protect what was his.


“Y-you can’t,” Xander whispered in wide-eyed fright. “The chip—”


“Means sod all.” Spike looked him up and down appraisingly, and couldn’t help but wonder just how close the boy was to pissing his pants. “It’ll put me outta commission for a while, I’ll wager, but somethin’ tells me you'd be dead a whole lot longer than that.” Spike could feel the bloodlust rising for the first time in countless months, and his head was pounding just from the thought of extracting his revenge on the cowering human. His free hand clenched at his side, Spike leaned forward as he stared at Xander with a feral gaze. “You’d do well to remember 'm not some harmless pup with a soul stuffed up his arse,” he whispered menacingly. “An’ if you ever hurt her again, I swear by all things unholy, I will rip you apart... Are we clear?”


Xander’s gaze sought her out—desperate, imploring—but Buffy barely noticed his frantic nod as the sound of her watcher’s voice once again drew her attention to the orb.


I think we should start with the grounding crystal... large blue stone. Now look very carefully for the tiny flaw at its core...


Helplessly, Buffy could only watch as her surrogate father brought the hypodermic needle to her arm, and injected her with the yellow liquid. The ensuing fight with Kralik passed by in a blur, melded as it was, with countless other scenes from her life. Riley, the Initiative, Dracula. One-by-one, the images washed over her, ebbing and flowing, until Buffy was certain she was going to do the girl thing and faint from the relentless onslaught.


Come on. Say it. We're bloody well talking about this. Tell me to kill my sister...


Releasing Spike’s hand she slowly stepped forward, her legs leaden and sluggish, as if in a trance.


You'll fail. You'll die. We all will.


“Buffy?” Xander made as if to follow her, but Spike wouldn’t allow it. Grasping him by the collar, the vampire shoved him away in disgust. However, it was Spike’s own legs that threatened to buckle as the First Slayer’s voice filled the room.


Death is your gift.


It was too much, too fast, and Buffy was powerless to stop it.


The hardest thing in this world... is to live in it.


She saw Dawn at the top of Glory’s tower as the portal raged and flared into life; saw her own broken, crumpled, body lying on the ground. Blinking slowly, Buffy fought the dizziness that threatened to consume her. She took a few steadying breaths and opened her eyes to see... nothing.


The sphere was silent.


Black.


Waiting.


Buffy glanced around the room as she struggled to calm her erratic breathing and frantic heart rate. In his haste to escape the severely pissed off vampire, Xander had stumbled over his feet, and was awkwardly crawling backwards towards the hallway. Willow was sat on the couch, tears streaming down her face as she tried desperately to erase the distressing images from her mind.


“Is it over?” The young witch whispered between ragged breaths. “Is it—” She froze as a tortuous gasp ripped through the room.


“No...” Buffy’s voice was barely audible as a distinct scratching sound, and harsh, panted, breaths, emanated from the pitch black orb. “No, no, no, NO!” Each successive denial rose in volume, until Buffy was shaking her head and on the verge of hysteria.


Rushing forward, Spike took her in his arms, as he forcefully shucked off the despair of once again seeing her lifeless body. “It’s okay... It’s over. I’m here.” His arms cocooned around her shivering form, protecting her from the horrendous sight of her living nightmare. “They’re nothin’ but shadows of the past,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair as she burrowed against his chest and sobbed. “They can’t hurt you now, kitten. Spike’s got you an’ he’s never lettin’ go.”


Horrified by the enfolding scene, Xander struggled to his feet and stepped towards the distraught slayer. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat, unable to reach fruition. There was no hope of denying his role in this horrendous situation, but what could he possibly say to make it better? With a resigned sigh he watched his friend being comforted by the one person she should hate, and it galled him to know it wasn’t the vampire in question that had caused her such pain. The full extent of Buffy’s misery was plain to see, and unable to take any more, Xander let his tears fall as he staggered down the hallway, stopping only once to look back over his shoulder.


“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he closed the door behind him.


As the myriad of images came to a close, the sphere began to vibrate, waning in intensity, before suddenly collapsing in on itself and allowing the B’traxic crystal to drop to the floor. Shell-shocked, the three remaining observers watched as the innocuous looking stone rolled across the carpet, and was promptly caught under Spike’s boot.


“Bloody things are more trouble than they’re worth,” he muttered, crushing it beneath his heel as Buffy clung to him in her grief. Enough damage had been done for one night, and Spike wrapped his arm around the Slayer’s shoulder as he guided her towards the hallway. “We’re leaving,” he said firmly as he spared Willow a withering glare. “It’s been a blast, Red, but I reckon we’ll skip the encore.” Spike’s only objective was to get Buffy away from the house and back to the safety of his crypt, however, as his hand closed around the door handle, a broken sob came from the direction of the couch.


“B-Buffy...” Spike felt his girl tense against him as Willow’s anguished tone filled the room. “I-I’m s-sorry. I never meant—I didn’t know...”


Wiping her eyes, Buffy turned to look at her friend. Spike was practically vibrating with pent-up fury, and she wanted nothing more than to leave—lose herself in his arms, and forget this whole sorry mess ever happened.


“Of course you didn’t know!” Spike’s arm fell to her waist as his temper flared at the alarming naivety of the young witch. “You never bloody do, do you? What’s it gonna take, Red? How bad does it have to get before—”


“Spike?” Reining in her turbulent emotions, Buffy turned to face him with a wavering smile. There was a note of finality in her friend’s voice that gave her pause for thought. Maybe all was not lost after all. Tentatively, the Slayer sought out Spike’s hands, interlacing their fingers as she leaned in and rested her forehead against his own. “Can you give us a minute?” she whispered.


Spike scoffed as he trained his eyes on Willow’s snivelling form. His girl was too bloody soft-hearted for her own good—but wasn’t that one of the things he loved most? He’d learned long ago that Buffy came as part of a package deal. Just as being a slayer was an inherent part of what she was, so it seemed were the friends she surrounded herself with. Tamping down his frustration, Spike released Buffy’s hands and patted down his duster. “Right,” he said tightly, retrieving a packet of Marlboro’s before tucking a lock of hair behind Buffy’s ear. “I’m goin’ for a smoke. Come find me when you’re done chin-waggin’, yeah?”


Surprised, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief at his easy compliance. “This won’t take long. I promise.”


With a cigarette half-way to his lips, Spike glanced apprehensively towards the last remaining scoobie. “Gonna hold you to that one, love,” he said, before stealing a quick kiss and disappearing out the door.


From her position on the couch, Willow observed their simple interaction with keen interest. Far be it for her to frown upon non-conventional relationships—she was, after all, in no position to cast stones—but vampire and slayer... it just seemed wrong. Admittedly, Spike wasn’t the first vampire that Buffy had fallen in love with, but after the whole Angel/Angelus nightmare, Willow was amazed that her friend would want to open herself up to another world of heartache. Maybe if she’d made more of an effort to reach out to Buffy in those first formative days then she wouldn’t have turned to Spike as a source of comfort.


Maybe she wouldn’t be watching relationships fall apart because of her own heedless actions.


Nevertheless, the fact remained that Buffy’s new beau was a soulless vampire who’d killed thousands of innocent people. The only thing preventing Spike from making a smorgasbord of the general populace was a government issued chip. Bottom line, he was evil. Okay, maybe not Angelus evil—sucking the world into hell had never been on the bleached vampire’s to-do list—but he was bad... and rude... and... really, really annoying.


Willow frowned. Maybe she was being all with the judgemental. Against all odds, Spike had stuck around after Buffy’s death. What could he have hoped to gain from that? They certainly hadn’t informed him of their plans to bring Buffy back, and yet, he’d made it his mission to take care of Dawn, oftentimes being the only one who could get through to the traumatised teenager. He’d continued his nightly patrols despite Xander’s constant jibes and the less than welcoming reception they gave him—but it was plain to see that Buffy’s death had affected him deeply.


He was a different vampire.


Spike’s fire and passion had died alongside Buffy, and Willow could still picture the anguish in his eyes whenever he looked upon the Bot. Soul or not, Spike was in love, and if her friend returned the feelings, then who was she to stand in their way? What else was there to do but push her apprehensions aside and be there for Buffy if it all went wrong?


“Just answer me one thing,” Willow said as the Slayer cautiously approached the couch. “Does he make you happy?”


With a bone-deep sigh, Buffy took the adjacent cushion. “Yes,” she replied. “You may not believe it, and trust me; I never thought I’d say it, but Spike makes me feel... alive.” She giggled. “Wow. I can almost hear the ‘Good Lord’s’ all the way from England.” Buffy sobered as she turned to face her friend. “This isn’t just a fling, Will. I love him... and as crazy as this may sound, I know we’re meant to be together.”


Willow frowned. “But why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m not saying I would have handled it any better,” she said with a depreciating smile, “but I’d have been bound by the laws of best-friend-dom to hear you out.”


“Honestly?” Buffy replied. “Because until last night I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone you guys. I’ve always felt something for him, but I was being all denial-girl and refusing to face it.” The Slayer sighed and leaned back in the couch. “But I can’t go back to that place. I’m happy. For the first time in years I know who I am, and what I want... and I want Spike. He’s changed, Will... and so have I.”


“Yeah,” Willow whispered, “I can see that.” Garnering her courage, she took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind. “Okay.”


A raised eyebrow. “Okay?”


“Okay. I’m not saying I understand it, cos to be honest, I’m kinda freaked with a side order of wig... but I’m here for you.”


Buffy grinned. “Thanks... I think?” The familiar sight of Willow’s ‘resolve face’ caused her heart to soar, as she anticipated her friend’s response.


“But you can tell Spike from me that if he doesn’t treat you right, I’ve got a ball of sunshine with his name on it.”


The harsh words were offset by her tell-tale smirk, and Buffy couldn’t help but tease her with one of Spike’s cautionary tales. “Well, from the way he tells it, that wouldn't be the first time,” she replied with a giggle.


“Hey!” Willow cried in righteous indignation. “That was a mistake. The Orl’ck moved too quickly—a-and anyway he was only slightly singed.” She folded her arms and pouted. “Big vampire baby.”


Buffy nudged the redhead with her shoulder. “So we’re good?”


“Yeah. We’re good,” Willow replied. “I can’t speak for Xander though.”


A frown marred Buffy’s features as she recalled his hasty departure. “He was majorly wigged by that orb, wasn’t he?” she said. “Not that I was the poster child for cool acceptance, but Xander was entering crazy town long before that.”


“Give him some time,” Willow replied. “You know how he feels about Spike.”


“What? The whole insane hatred thing?”


“Yeah, that.” Willow shrugged. “But if there’s one thing I know about Xander, it’s that he always comes through in the end.” Smiling, she shook her head. “And besides, I don’t think Anya’s through with him yet. I’m sure she’ll talk some sense into him.”


“I hope so,” Buffy whispered. “I know it sounds strange, but even though I’ve been here, I haven’t been here, you know? I’ve missed you guys.”


Willow looked up, hopeful. “So you don't hate us?” she asked. “I-I thought… We’ve been such bad friends and—”


“What? No!” Buffy cried. “I mean, sure, you weren't my favourite people for a while there, but I’m not about to strike you off my Christmas card list. I just… I need you to promise not to work anymore spells against me, Will. No matter how well-meaning you think they are.”


Willow nodded. “I promise, Buffy. A-and I’m sorry... for everything.”


“I know.”


It felt good to finally reconnect with her friend, and Willow would be remiss if she didn’t seize the opportunity for a little girl-talk. “So… You and Spike, huh?”


“Yeah.” Buffy ducked her head and blushed. “Me and Spike.” She glanced towards the front door and was reminded that said vampire was likely chain-smoking and pacing a trench on the other side—no doubt fretting needlessly that she’d changed her mind.


Not a chance.


This conversation would have to take a rain check.


The man she loved was waiting for her, and they’d already waited long enough.





Chapter End Notes:
*Bites fingernails* So, what did you think? This was the most difficult chapter I’ve EVER had to write, and I hope I did it justice. The Scoobies have had their eyes opened at last, and as much as I would have loved to give Willow a rather more painful comeuppance, I figured a tentative truce was more in fitting with this fic. Speaking of, my muse has kicked into overdrive lately and I’m toying with some one-shots set in this spuffylovin’ verse.



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