“Oh balls. You didn’t say it was a Glarghk Ghul Kashman'ik.”

“Because I can’t say Glargul ...”

The demon attacked, lunging at Spike while Xander struggled with the tranquillizer gun. He got off a shot, as the vampire continued to punch and kick. The demon shot a spine from his wrist and pierced Spike in the chest, retracting it, before either reluctant comrade noticed. Spike got off one more punch before being knocked to the ground.

****

And lay on the ground in an alley. He looked around at the strangely familiar surroundings. How had he gotten here?

****

He stood up in the cemetery and continued fighting the demon. Xander pulled off another shot of the dart gun, while Spike beat at the monster with his fists. Getting behind the creature, he twisted its neck and it lost consciousness.

“I altered his reality,” smiled Xander. “Get it, I ... Never mind.”

The two carried the demon back to Buffy’s house, determined to help Willow find the cure to Buffy’s dementia.

****

Spike chained the creature to a post in the basement, while Willow broke off the poisonous protrusion. As she and Xander mounted the stairs, Spike said, “I’ll hold here. Keep an eye on the wax job.” He looked at ...

****

... the door to his lodgings. He opened it and went inside. It was a dirty, dark little basement apartment. He would find something better. They both deserved better. First he had to get her out of Prague. Get her well again. She was everything to him.

He’d better tend to her. Make sure she’d been alright while he was gone.

She was asleep. He lay down beside her until morning.

At first light, he went into the tiny kitchen. There was precious little to bring her. They had to get away.

****

He went back to Buffy’s room. Willow was already there. “How is she?” he asked.

“Make sure she drinks all that,” the redhead replied.

Buffy’s words stung him. “Leave me alone. You’re not a part of my life.”

He said his piece. Told her to lay off her hero trip. Told her that she wouldn’t tell her friends about them because she might be happy. “Either you tell your friends about us, or I will.” He left her behind as he walked out into the hallway. Wait. He’d forgotten something. Red told him to make sure Buffy drank the antidote. Swallowing his anger, he turned back towards her room.

****

She was so small, so pale, so weak. She looked at him with her big, fevered eyes. “Spike?”

He held out a bowl of soup. “Take this, love. Please, Buffy. You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” She watched him place the bowl on the little night stand, then smiled wanly as he sat on the bed beside her. He wrapped his arms around her as she snuggled close to him. “You always take good care of me. Thank you.”

“You should eat that. You need to build up your strength. We can’t stay here. They’ll find us.” He stroked her long blonde hair. “We have to get away and get you well.”

“To Sunnydale? Where the cure is?”

“No, pet. Not Sunnydale.” His face was set. “Never there again. Maybe England.”

“I’ll go wherever you want. I love you so much, Spike.” She coughed, and spat up a bit of blood.

He wiped her chin with his handkerchief. “I love you too, Buffy.”

“Have you eaten?” she asked. “You should go out. Get yourself something. You’re wearing yourself out, taking care of me.”

“I don’t mind, sweetheart. I’ll go though, if you’ll be alright. I should pick up some supplies. We’re ‘bout out of everything.” He kissed her forehead, stood up and pulled a blanket from a chair. “Sun’s up.”

“Be careful. I’ll be fine. I need to sleep.”

****

He ran from the Revello Drive home, blanket covering his head. Buffy didn’t want him in her life. Fine. But he was there, part of her now, and the sooner she faced it the better for both of them. He pulled up a sewer grate in the shade of an elm tree, and dropped below the street. The tunnel carried him into the heart of town. He’d pick up some burba weed at the Magic Box, closed for the time being with nobody to stop him. He’d go back to the crypt and make some real bloody mary’s, and get himself good and royally pissed.

It was after dark, now, and he figured he might as well leave the store by the back door instead of the tunnel. He fancied a bit of night air. Needed to clear his head. It felt foggy. Something had been bothering him all day, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Things just didn’t seem right.

****

There was a young shop girl, alone in the alley. He dropped the bag of groceries he had stolen and looked at her. He was hungry. So hungry. He felt the bumps rise on his forehead.

She looked into his glowing yellow eyes and screamed. She muttered something over and over. He wasn’t that fluent in Czech, another reason to get away, but it sounded like “Don’t hurt me.” Right. Don’t hurt her. So hungry.

He lunged at her, and stopped. What was he doing? Something twisted in his gut. The thought of her blood sickened him. Tears sprang to his eyes. What was wrong? Something’s wrong. He should feed. He couldn’t feed.

He picked up his bag, left the sobbing young girl and walked out of the alley ...

****

... through the cemetery and towards his crypt. He needed that drink. Where was the burba weed? He felt it in his pocket. Then why did he think he’d been carrying it in a bag?

He had to get back to Buffy. Make sure she was okay. But she didn’t want to see him. Didn’t matter. She needed him.

He pushed open the door of the crypt ...

****

“Buffy, love, I’m back,” he called. The apartment was black. He flipped on a light switch. “Buffy, pet, you awake?”

He walked into the bedroom, and ran to her side. She had coughed up more blood in her sleep. She was lying in it, her face and hair a sticky mass. He felt her pulse. It was thready, but present. He went into the bathroom and moistened a face cloth, which he used to wipe her gently. “My poor baby,” he sighed. “I can’t lose you.”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Spike,” she moaned.

“I’m here, pet.” His hand was on her forehead. She was burning with fever.

“I’m sorry.” She tried to wet her lips with her tongue. “You don’t need this. Get away. Leave me. Get out of Prague.”

“Oh, Buffy,” he cried. “Buffy, you know I’ll never leave you. I need you as much as you need me. More. Trust me. I’ll make it better. We’ll be together, always. Just hold on.”

****

Buffy pushed through the door of the crypt. “Spike, we have to talk.” He was standing to the side of the chamber, looking down at something. She didn’t see anything. “I don’t want you tell my friends. Not yet.” He didn’t seem to see her.

“We’ll get out of Prague. Just you and me. I’ll show you England. No, not England. Spain. You’ll like Spain. You can sit in the sun and heal. Buffy, you can get strong again in Spain.”

“I’m fine, now Spike. I don’t want to go to Spain.” She spoke to him, but he didn’t listen to her.
“I knew you’d like that.” He moved his hands in the air, like he was stroking something. Something invisible. “We’ll get a little place, just you and I. I know. I love you too.”

“Spike, what the hell ...” She grabbed his arms and shook him. “Spike, wake up. I’m right here. You’re in your crypt. Look at me.” The imaginary something in the corner. The way her seemed somewhere else. “Did that demon thing poke you?”

“Buffy?” Her voice was coming far away, from out of the fog. “Demon?”

She ran her hands over his arms, looking for a wound. He healed so quickly, the wound might be gone. She wanted to be sure. She undid his shirt. There it was, on his left pec, a red welt where the poison had entered. “Spike, you’ve been poisoned. Just like I was. You have to snap out of it.”

He pulled himself away from her and went back to the imaginary bed. “I’ll always look after you. Always.”

She was growing frantic. “Spike, you have to snap out of it. We got rid of the demon. There’s no way to make an antidote.” She spun him around, but his face was blank. She tried slapping him, but it didn’t register. At her wits end, she pulled him to herself and kissed him deeply. His body relaxed as he kissed her back.

He looked into her eyes. “Buffy? You’re better.”

“I’m fine now. Willow gave me the antidote. No more asylum.” She felt him pull at her hair as though he expected to see something in it.

“The blood’s gone. And it’s so short. Did I cut it, to get the blood out?”

“Spike. Look at me. There’s no blood. There was never any blood. I cut my hair weeks ago.” She shook him again. “Please, come back. Come back to me.”

“Slayer?” He looked around the crypt. “This isn’t our apartment.”

“Spike, you’ve been poisoned. There’s no antidote. Come on. You’re a vampire. Fight it.”

“Why are you here, Buffy? What happened?”

“That demon. Gargamel whatsit. He poisoned you.” She touched his cheek with her fingertips. “I came to tell you not to tell the others about us.”

His jaw set. “You came to tell me to get out of your life. To never come back. You came to stick your hand in my chest and rip my heart out again.” He was panting with anger now. He swung his fist against the wall and smashed into the rock. His knuckles were bleeding. “This is reality. This is what I’ve known. That other life, that was just a dream.”

“That’s right, Spike. Let it out. If the anger’s what it takes to burn out the poison, get angry. Take it out on me.”

He swung at her, and she blocked the blow. He swung again, but this time she kept her hand down. She went flying into the wall. “Buffy?” He knelt beside her. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

“That depends. Where are we?”

“How hard did I hit you?” He helped her up. “We’re in my crypt.” He was shocked when she threw her arms around him.

“Then I’m fine.” She looked up at him, her face glowing with happiness. “I came to get you. I’ve made some decisions, about us. I want us to tell my friends about our relationship. I don’t mean I’m ready to get back together, at least not the way things were, but I think it’s time to face reality.”

“Which is?”

She took his hand. “You are most definitely a part of my life.”

The End