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Author's Chapter Notes:
Previously: Spike and Buffy got their memory back before the pants could come off.

Beta'd by the lovely All4Spike.
Chapter 25

Buffy’s feet pounded on the cold hard ground as she wove through the trees. The need to escape her own thoughts had her drawing in shuddering breaths that burned an icy path down her throat. She knew she should slow down, that she should probably button up her coat before she got ill. But all she could do was gasp like a fish that had been yanked out of the water, helplessly flopping on the ground in order to survive.

She knew now. Knew what had really happened the night her mother had cut her face open. How she’d blamed her for escaping the monsters with disfigured faces and blood stained claws. Blamed her for wanting to live. The wall had finally collapsed and it felt as if she could see for the first time in her life.

Her foot got tangled in a low bush and she stumbled, her arms flying up to grasp the nearest tree to save herself from a painful fall. As if she could escape pain, she thought as she stared down at her grazed palms.

Spike was supposed to know what to do and as much as she wanted to blame the fiasco entirely on him, she knew that wouldn’t be fair. Perhaps she shouldn’t have put her trust in his hands to begin with.

The feeling of unease crept up on her as she stared at her bleeding palms, wanting to cry but unable to let it out. All she could hear was her own staggering heartbeat. There was nothing. Nothing but a whisper of wind slinking against her face. No crickets. No owls. No sign of life other than her own harsh breathing.

Then she saw it.

It was just a glimpse.

A pale face with slightly rounded cheeks, a barest hint of sharp cheekbones pushing beneath the skin as the young girl emerged from the shadows. It was as though she’d been born in them, all of nature falling silent as her flaxen hair fluttered in the wind like a bird’s wings. The girl’s gaze unerringly focused on Buffy and she wanted to take a step forward. To ask the girl if she needed help, but her feet were rooted to the ground and her tongue refused to form words.

A sharp pain pierced Buffy’s skull as a distorted memory of the girl in front of her screeched through her mind like a badly tuned radio. Joy and hope and the fluttering of a heart. Eline was alive. Chilled and small, yet so real within his embrace. But then the mood shifted and happiness was replaced by fear. It wasn’t her. Not her. A monster. Someone screamed and the world dissolved into black.

Buffy blinked, the grip of her bloodied fingers clutching at the bark fell slack.

The girl was gone.

*******

Monsters were real. Demons and vampires and magic were all real, and now she was in the thick of it. She’d had proof staring her in the face and accepting it beat the alternative of having gone cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

For a moment she wondered if her life would have been easier if she’d carried on down the road of ignorance. As she entered her house and saw her father asleep on the couch in the living room with the TV remote held loosely in his hand, she decided it didn’t matter. What happened couldn’t be changed and she wouldn’t want it to.

Didn’t they say that knowledge was power?

She toed off her boots and wandered into the living room to click the television off.

“Love you, Dad,” she whispered, and grabbed a blanket thrown over the back of the couch to cover him.

It was strange how regaining her memory gave her an objective outlook on her life. Even now, as she walked up the stairs the memories that had been fresh and raw just five minutes ago were beginning to recede into the back of her mind like little coins falling to the bottom of a fountain.

Everyone in her life who had tried to get close, she pulled away from. Just because she couldn’t handle the idea of being rejected, the idea of someone making her care. But for how long could she run? And what if it was already too late?

When she stepped over the threshold into her room, she was almost surprised to find out the room hadn’t changed. How could everything stay the same when her entire world had been created anew?

Buffy sat down on the bed and opened the bedside drawer. There lay a piece of broken mirror and she still remembered how she’d smashed it five years ago after she’d overheard the boy she’d had a crush on calling her ugly.

She didn’t even know why she kept it. Perhaps to remind herself that being alone was the better choice. As she picked up the mirror and looked into it, maybe for the first time she didn’t feel the usual urge to turn away. Those scars were a part of her and it wasn’t her fault she had them. In some twisted way, she was glad. Without them, she wouldn’t be the person she was now. She wouldn’t have befriended Anya or met Spike. Maybe she wouldn’t even have discovered that she could draw.

Oh God, maybe she’d have ended up being Harmony’s friend.

Although, considering the off the charts level of bitchiness, Buffy highly doubted it.

She put the mirror back into the drawer with a sigh and collapsed on her back. She felt as if she hadn’t slept in weeks.

Thinking of the unexpected turn the spell had taken, she wanted to be angry at Spike. She really did, but the devastation she’d glimpsed in his features made her want to reassure him it could have ended up much worse.

It definitely hadn’t been all bad, she thought with a begrudging smile. Maybe she should keep calling him Randy. What was up with that anyway? Why would he need a fake ID? She’d have to ask him about it, unless he used his power of distraction again.

She couldn’t believe they’d almost… Just the memory of his skin sliding against hers made her blood rush. Then the stupid necklace got stuck in her hair and… wait a second.

Why did the memories come back the second he took it off?

Was it just her being paranoid or was something more behind the locket? The sudden thought it could have been cursed and had been causing those nightmares made her feel violated.

She rubbed at her throat with a grimace, hoping the nightmares wouldn’t return.

*******

Her name should be Big Fat Coward, Buffy thought as she fidgeted with the strap of her bag and shifted from one foot to the other for the hundredth time. Maybe talking to Anya wasn’t a good idea after all. What would she tell her anyway? Sorry I wigged out when I found out you were a man-slaughtering demon?

Someone should write a handbook on these things, Buffy groused as she leaned against the side of the school building.

It would only take a few strides to come up to Anya who was currently standing at the top of the steps leading up to the school’s entrance, obviously waiting for someone.

God, this was so ridiculous. Her palms were sweating as if she was about to be led to the gallows when in fact all she wanted to do was apologise. It would probably take her a while to adjust to the fact that Anya wasn’t human, but after starting to consider her a friend, it had become somewhat lonely to sit at the lunch table alone.

Okay, she could do this. She could so totally do this.

Buffy shouldered off the wall and wiped her palms on her thighs. She had only taken two steps when Xander joined Anya and her nerves were instantly shot to hell. She veered off in a completely different direction, cursing the boy’s timing.

She couldn’t decide whether to be angry or relieved. All she knew was that she’d had to get the nerve to approach Anya eventually and what better way to do it than postpone it for as long as she could?

Oh yeah. Procrastination? She was the queen of it.

*******

She entered the grocery store and came up to her dad who seemed to be in a rush.

“Ah, Buffy. So glad to see you, pumpkin.” He disappeared in the back room and she heard rustling of clothes. “Do you mind watching the store for me for about an hour?”

She dropped her bag and hopped up onto the stool behind the counter. “Where are you going?”

He finally emerged, buttoning up his coat and wrapping a grey scarf around his neck. “Lunch break.”

“Right. Because there isn’t any food to be had at a grocery store.”

Hank huffed at her sarcastic reply. “Ellen called me. Told me I could come… uhh… visit her for lunch.”

Somehow, Buffy doubted that having lunch was all they’d be doing. On that disturbing thought, her face twisted up in a grimace.

“So, will you watch the store for me? Please?” Hank looked pretty eager to get going, and even though Buffy felt a pang of regret that they wouldn’t even get to have their usual daily ‘how was your day’ conversation, what could she do but agree?

“Sure. I’ll be your watch girl.” And sneak-a-donut girl if she had any say in it. She totally deserved a sugary compensation.

He grinned and landed a smacking kiss on her forehead. “Thank you. Be good. Do your homework.”

“Yes, sir.”

Not even commenting on her mock salute that accompanied the ‘sir,’ Hank practically ran out of the store.

Ah, adults. So immature.

Time dragged and she was so bored she even started in on her biology homework half an hour later. As usual, she gave up after ten minutes and pushed the book away. Why couldn’t it be like in the movies? All with an inspirational montage and prescription glasses crookedly perched on her nose as she learned everything there was to know within a few minutes? Who needed to know where their kidneys were anyway? It wasn’t like she planned on selling hers illegally via Craigslist or something.

Buffy dropped her head on the counter with a groan. She had closed her eyes just for a minute when she started to dream of giant donuts graphically describing how they reproduced, yelling at her to take notes because she’d end up being a garbage woman one day. What that had to with anything, she had no idea.

The tiny bell jingled merrily, rousing her from her sleepy daze but she didn’t bother lifting her forehead off the counter or getting off the stool. It was probably just Dad coming back after his lunch break. Her thoughts were confirmed when a large palm covered her shoulder.

“I’m not sleeping on the job,” she mumbled. “Just resting my eyes. It’s been pretty much dead here since you left. Just a couple of people.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of sleeping on the job, love.” The hand fell away as the voice jolted Buffy completely awake.

“Spike?” She blinked, willing her confused brain to start functioning again. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped away and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Don’t rightly know, actually. I had this whole speech planned. Wanted to say I was… sorry.” The word sounded strange and rough as though he’d forgotten the sound of it. “I messed everything up.”

Oh. Right. The whole ‘wiping their memories’ thing. What did he want her to say anyway? That he hadn’t messed up? That what had happened was a glitch orchestrated by fate and it had been completely out of his hands? She wanted to, but she couldn’t lie to him either, so she just shrugged, trying so hard not to reach out to touch him instead. “You’re just human. We all tend to screw up sometimes. And hey, we’re both alive and all with the knowing our names, so...”

He nodded and tried for a smile, but it looked somewhat strained.

“Did it work?” he asked out of the blue and scanned her face from beneath his dark lashes. “The reversal spell. Do you… remember? That night nine years ago.”

She swallowed and looked away, her fingers nervously shredding a receipt forgotten on the counter by a previous customer. “Yes. I remember all of it.” Including how he’d carried her home and how she’d told him she could marry him one day. That almost brought a bittersweet smile to her face. There was one other thing, one she preferred not to think about. Had he seen her mother die? Had he—

“And the dreams? Have you—”

“No. Not yet anyway.” God, she hated the uncomfortable tension between them and she just wanted to close the distance and smooth away the frown creasing his brows. “Just giant donuts.”

His lips tipped in a confused smile. “Giant donuts?”

“Don’t ask,” she said with a wild gesture of her hand that was so spastic she wanted to cringe.

“Everything’s normal then? Well, as normal as dreams can get?”

“Yup. All with the normalness.” She straightened up and slid from the stool, hoping to steer the conversation into less personal waters. “Can I help you with anything? Grocery wise, I mean. We’ve got some weird chili chocolate thing that you might lik—”

“Buffy,” he said and caught her wrist, stopping her short. God, what was he doing to her? The way he breathed her name scattered her thoughts like dust in the wind. Perhaps here was a reason she shouldn’t be letting him touch her but she couldn’t bring herself to shake off his hand when he gazed at her like that. As though something pained him, as though he pleaded with her to understand. She didn’t know what was going on, could hardly think at all when his thumb traced gentle circles on her inner wrist.

“I really am sorry, you know. I cocked up badly and I deserve to be whacked over the head, at the very least. So if you want to go ahead and do that, feel free. I just don’t want to feel like you’re mad at me.” He fixed her with an intense gaze and she had trouble making sense of his words.

“I’m not going to whack you over the head.”

His fingers wrapped more firmly around her wrist and drew it to his lips, his eyes closing as he nuzzled the back of her hand. “Can you forgive me?”

She wondered whether he kept his eyes closed out of fear of seeing refusal in hers. Yes, she’d been a bit angry and disappointed, but she realised he’d been trying to help. And he had, hadn’t he? So why couldn’t she push the words ‘I forgive you’ past her numb lips?

“Spike, as I said, everyone makes mistakes. I wasn’t just saying that, and I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I was mad at you. I’m just still trying to… Look, we’re both okay. That’s what matters the most. And I haven’t had any freaky dreams, so it must mean it worked. I haven’t had the chance to say it before, but I… I appreciate it,” she said softly and knew it was the right thing to say when he finally opened his eyes and caressed her knuckles with his lips. “Just promise me you won’t be biting off more than you can chew again.”

With a final kiss, he let go of her now tingling hand and offered her a sheepish smile. “I’ll try my best.” Spike’s gaze flickered away as he said it and she suspected he was lying but decided not to call him on it.

“Did you mention chili chocolate?” he asked suddenly, and she wondered if he was just trying to change the topic.

“I did. Come on,” she said with a tentative smile and led him to the back room. There on the floor rested a half-opened box full of a new brand of chocolate that Hank had taken to try and see if it would sell. All the while she felt Spike’s gaze burning into the back of her head and when she turned around she caught him looking at her as if he was trying to trace every contour of her face with his gaze, as if he was committing every detail to memory.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, out of habit wishing she didn’t sound so concerned.

Wordlessly, he stepped closer and buried his fingers in her hair before he swept in and kissed her. But no, kiss wasn’t the right word. He inhaled her as if she was the first breath he took after nearly drowning. His lips rubbed insistently against hers, his fingers tightening in her hair as he tilted his head to the side and tasted her impossibly deeper, hungrier. It was if she’d been swept away by a tide and all she could do was hold on, trying to keep her head above the surface.

He pulled away and whispered something that sounded like her name then brushed his lips against hers in a whisper light kiss that had her heart clenching.

“Spike, what—”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” With one final, lingering kiss, he disentangled himself from her and she was left standing there in the back room with a feeling she’d missed something important.

“But, what about the… chocolate?”

TBC


Chapter End Notes:
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