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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for my delay in updating! I was away on a work conference and didn't have access to my computer to post.
"This is exactly why I don't deal with ghost's. Nothing good ever comes from it." She mumbled to herself, fingertips rubbing her temples trying to ease the headache forming there. Anne was standing over Spikes shoulder, hands ringing the edges of her shawl as she tried to look as sheepish and innocent as she could. "You said, and I quote, 'He's in grave danger and if you do not help me he is going to die!' "

"He is!"

"He's a detective for Christs sake! He's always in danger!"

It took him a few moments to realize Buffy wasn't talking to him even though she was pointing at him for the second time that day. He couldn't help but shake off the unsettling thoughts rushing through him over the whole situation. For starters he still wasn't sure that Buffy could actually see ghosts, or believed for one second that ghosts were even real.

Buffy was talking still, facing him front on, but was staring right past him. He coughed before speaking.

"He's standing right here."

Buffy met Spikes eyes and sighed, dropping her head for a few moments before taking a few deep and calming breaths.

"I am really sorry about all of this. Your mother is here and as you've probably already guessed, we're having a bit of a dispute at the moment."

"I can hear tha'." With one eyebrow raised, a slight smile on his face as he spoke. The look he sent Buffy's way had her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink and it was hard to miss the slight smirk that his lips formed knowing that she was embarrassed by his remark.

Buffy met Anne's eyes over Spikes shoulder before speaking.

"I don't like dealing with ghosts. I avoid talking to them if I can, but seeing as she isn't going to go away, I'll do my best to relay her messages."

"Correctly this time."

Buffy rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Yes, correctly this time."

"Word for word."

"Yes, word for word."

"Just one quick question, luv." Spike interrupted, stepping forward. "I though' ghosts, you know.." he made a few gestures with his hands, passing them around the room. "moved on. Went to the other side or whatever it is ghosts do. My mother passed away years ago. Why is she still here? Not tha' I mind having you around Mom, but um-"

"Ghosts typically stay behind due to their unfinished business."

"It's the case he's working on."

Buffy motioned for Spike to join her back towards the counter, further into the shop and away from the big glass windows of the shop front where passers-by could look in. She did so not need another Mrs. Mackenzie incident today.

"Anne said that you being in danger has got to do with the particular case that you're working on at the moment."

"It's a ghost."

"It's a ghost?"

"What?" Spike's face scrunched up in utter disbelief as Buffy spoke the words.

"How is that even possible?" Buffy's face was also a mask of confusion as she met Anne's eyes. Anne hovered through the counter and now stood just behind the register. It was always freaky watching the blurred forms of ghosts just pass straight through solid objects. Buffy sometimes wondered over the amount of places ghosts could get into, lines they didn't have to wait in and copious amounts of information they had access to. The possibilities were endless. Still, not being able to touch or feel ever again, being a ghost had its downsides too.

"No." Spike shook his head, tapping the counter-top, determination in his voice. "People murder other people. Not ghosts, luv."

Buffy shot him a look that read 'do you think I'm stupid' before she started pacing back and forth. She thought back to the last few weeks and all the things that didn't seem to add up, her accounts with ghosts had become more and more frequent. She had started seeing them in the streets and during this past week alone had seen ghosts following their loved ones. The coffee shop ghost from that morning had caused chills like nothing she had ever felt before. Cold flushes were quite common to experience when a ghost was near by, but this. No.

The cold that still clung to her even now as Anne hovered around the room was like winter ice, it's crisp breeze just lightly touching her skin. She had even felt Anne's cold fingers wrap around her wrist earlier that morning. The cold icy grip of death itself.

Something was happening that had never happened before.

"S-something is happening. The wall that separates my plane of existence from yours is thinning."

"That can't be possible."

"What can't?"

"Your mother seems to think that the wall or veil that keeps them, the ghosts and spirits, separate from us is getting thinner."

Spike let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. He thought back to his own morning, where in the earlier hours he had been at a crime scene, looking at two dead murdered victims with his team combing through the evidence. Real life, solid people. People and science were real.

Not ghosts.

"I don' even know if I believe all of this. Come on! Ghosts? Different planes of existence. This is the kind of stuff you read about in novels and watch on the sci-fi channel, luv. Not real life." He muttered a few words under his breath Buffy couldn't hear and shook his head.

Before she could utter a word in response, she felt the cold icy touch of Anne's fingers as they gripped her shoulders. Cold piercing shards seemed to crawl through her body like a snake weaving it way along the ground causing her to stand up straight like a rod, unable to move, her eyes wide. She tried to talk but her breath came out in puffs, fog blowing out with each puff of air like it would if you were out in the snow.

"Buffy? Luv, are you alright?"

"I-I..." She felt a trickle or warmth flowing from her nose and dropping onto her lips. Blood. She saw a flash of images before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she lost consciousness.

"Oh bugger!"

"Buffy!" Spike tried to run forward and catch her before she fell to the ground and smashed her head onto the floor. She fell into his arms in a tangled mass of limbs and hair. "Jesus Christ! She's like ice!" Her body was cold to the touch. He rushed to pull the phone from his back pocket, fingers dialing emergency.

"No wait! Call your father!"

Anne's hand covered her mouth as Spike froze, fingers hovering over the buttons on his phone. Buffy still unconscious in his arms, nosebleed slowing down but not stopping completely.

"M-Mom?"

Spike hadn't heard his mothers voice in nearly ten years and the sound of it had his heart stopping. The room was silent, nothing but the sound of Buffy's slow breaths penetrating the air and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Slowly, not entirely sure if he had actually heard his mothers voice he scrolled through the contacts list in his phone until his fingers hovered over his father's name.

His mother always did like a good bit of drama.

Buffy was deathly still in his arms, her breath coming in short gasps. He pushed dial and held the phone up to his ear, trapping it between his shoulder and head as he checked Buffy's pulse.

"Hello William-"

"It's Spike. How many times do I have t-"

"I refuse to call you by that blasted name. Your mother gave you a name and I-"

"Look da, sorry to bother you at work but I need your help."

The sound in his sons voice had Giles pausing mid argument, his own voice faltering. It was rare for his son to be calling asking for his help, especially in the middle of the week and nearly the middle of the day.

"Is everything ok?"

"I'm not sure."

"Where are you?"

"Not too far from you actually." Spike glanced out through the shops glass windows and out to the street signs. From the name on the sign he knew that he was indeed only a block away from his fathers shop. "I'll be there soon. Get some blankets."

"Blankets?"

Spike ended the call before his father could continue and placed the phone back in his pocket. He glanced around at the empty store, not exactly knowing what he was looking for but not surprised when he saw and heard nothing. The shop was empty. Besides the paintings, statues and artifacts that were displayed on stands and easels, there was no one else there. He hooked his arms under Buffy's legs, one around her shoulders and scooping her up from the cold hard floor.

She still felt like ice.


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