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Sunnydale - December 2001

“Step,” Anya told the vampire she was supporting as she pushed open the door to Spike’s crypt. She stumbled down the steps, not quite knowing how she managed to keep Spike upright while she did, and quickly manoeuvred him into his armchair.

“Ok. You’re home. Just sleep it off. Everything will look better in the morning.”

He stared up at her looking for all the world like the innocent and vulnerable schoolboy he most assuredly wasn’t. Anya sighed. “What do you want me to do? I can’t grant you any wishes and I wouldn’t if I could.” She knelt in front of him and looked him squarely in the eyes. “What’s wrong? You haven’t gotten drunk like this since Buffy died. Is it Buffy? Is something wrong?”

Spike started to laugh, pained amusement bordering on hysteria. Anya slapped him hard across the face. In his drunken state Spike acted instinctively and vamped out, pouncing forward and knocking Anya back against the floor. She stared up at him knowingly and for the first time he recognised that she was older than him. She knew more than him. She was better at this than him.

His true face melted away and he sat back, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do whatever it took to make them happy? No matter how miserable it made you?”

“Yes.”

The vampire looked up and smiled genuinely at Anya. “Harris is a lucky bloke.”

“Made for each other,” the former demon grinned as she moved to sit next to Spike. “And Buffy’s a lucky girl.”

Spike snorted. “No matter what I do, it’s never enough. She keeps me hanging there. Hoping. But it’ll never be enough.”

Anya didn’t answer. There was nothing to say.

“If she didn’t need me, I mean, if I could be sure that she’d be better off without me, I’d go. Best for both of us I imagine. Fresh start. But I can’t. Because she does need me. No matter what she says…”

“Shh, shhh, now,” Anya soothed as Spike lay back against the chair and began to drift off to sleep. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll fix it. Everything’s going to be just fine.” She pulled the blanket off the back of the chair and placed it gently around the sleeping vampire, before making her way out of the crypt, heading determinedly for Revello Drive.

****

Sunnydale – June 2007

“You ok?”

Anya looked up to see Willow watching her. The redhead stood on the ladder, which led up to the restricted section of the Magic where the former demon sat, reading from one of the heavy tomes.

“I’m fine,” she assured her friend with a smile, pushing back her memories. Recognising that Willow was about to comment, Anya closed the book she held and gestured towards the public area of the shop. “How’s it going?”

Willow grinned. “I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Giles more lost. He’s been telling Buffy to accept that Spike’s dead for so long and now here he is. And alive alive too, not just undead.”

Anya let the book slip to the floor and lowered her head to her hands. “I’m going to get this all night. ‘Anya tell me again exactly what happened,’” she mimicked, attempting an English accent. “I don’t think I can face it.”

The young Witch climbed the last few steps and knelt opposite her friend. “We didn’t do anything wrong or dangerous, just…”

“Stupid.”

“We did what was best for Spike. And Buffy it comes to that. They were killing each other.”

“It wasn’t any of our business.”

Willow sighed. “No. But we can’t change the past. Spike needs his memory back.”

“You’re the expert on memory spells,” Anya snapped, immediately regretting it.

The redhead ignored her. “I’ll do some research. It’s been a long time.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… You know I didn’t mean that.”

“I know. Now come on,” she said, pulling Anya to her feet. “If Giles takes off his glasses less than 50 times in the next half an hour, I’ll buy you a donut.”

****

‘Ninety-eight, ninety- nine, one hundred….’

Buffy sighed in frustration and stood, stepping in front of Giles and holding him still. “Stop pacing! If you take one more step I’m going to have to hurt you.”

“Buffy I can’t…”

“It’s a shock. But it’s not a bad thing. And I do anticipate a huge discussion about this in the very near future but right now, we need a doctor.”

“Yes of course,” Giles answered automatically. His eyes drifted from Buffy to Spike. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you.”

The Watcher stared intently at the young man sitting at the table for a moment and then turned abruptly away, heading towards the basement.

The Slayer sank down into a chair next to Spike and shot him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Giles’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
Spike had to bite his tongue to stop himself snapping at her. What else could he do but worry? He had no memory of his life before that morning. And the people who called themselves his friends seemed somewhat reluctant to divulge information about him.

“Is he your step-father?” he asked instead, doing his best to keep his tone light. “I mean you don’t sound a lot alike.”

Buffy smiled. “Sort of a surrogate. He was a big help to me during school and then when my mom died he helped look after me and my sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Spike murmured, unsure of what to say.

“It’s ok,” Buffy soothed gently, placing her hand over his on the table. He automatically turned his hand and laced their fingers together. Their eyes met and held, and Buffy inhaled sharply, feeling five years of pain disappearing in a instant.

“Buffy?”

It took her a moment to realise Spike was talking.

“Huh?”
He nodded towards the cash register and the Slayer turned her head to see Willow, a sympathetic look on her face, holding the phone tentatively toward her.

“It’s Angel.”

Chapter 9