by Isabelle

Disclaimers: All BTVS characters do not belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and are franchised by UPN. The book Les Miserables was written by Victor Hugo and is used only for entertainment purposes--the plot of these series has nothing to do with the author's novel. All songs/poems/quotes used in the chapter will be disclaimed in each individual chapter. The Title of this chapter was taken from 'Down These Mean Streets' by Piri Thomas (1967) and is used without permission. Lyrics used in this chapter are 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' by Bonnie Tyler.

Summary: Set after 'The Grave'--the season 6 season finale.

Rating: Eventually NC-17 (yes, sex--with naughty words and lovely imagery) so if it's not your cup of tea there's the door. Also, I curse a lot when I write, it's all part of my emotionalism.

Distribution: I cannot say this enough and still people post my stuff without permission UNLESS YOU ASK YOU'RE NOT GETTING--DO NOT POST OR DIRECT LINK WITHOUT PERMISSION. The only sites that have prior permission to post my work is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Only Time, and Death Marked Love. (archives like fanfiction.net and BSC don't count)

A/N: Heller--thank you as always for the beta. *g* Also, if you're a spelling nit-picker you might not like my fiction so scamper off and don't list all the spelling mistakes, I'll just delete your email--sorry but I don't get paid to write, got no time to make it spick and span. Also, this is a new style of
writing that I have yet to see--it's a POV writing but it's not anyone in the cast, it's my POV. I am the one who sees the things happening, weird? Just read. *g*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit lonely and you're never coming 'round

Death is smelled on 27th street, by Old Man's Nellie shop of used goodies for under a dollar. In that little rat infested alley where lower class drunken men often wander by and find a night of fit-full sleep amidst the roaches and the oily-haired alley cats they have often seen him. Seen him so often that it's almost become a myth--one of those legendary things that parents whisper to their children in the night--he's one of those.

Like a martyr on cocaine that bleeds when you kiss it.

He's no longer called a man but a creature of the night--they are completely unsuspecting of how accurate that statement is.

At times he laughs when he hears them, yet the dull sound of laughter is drowned when he gulps back a thick round of cheap Bourbon he bought from a street vendor after feeling guilty of stealing it from a small convenience store. He found the
money, just a few bills, those that fall out of ladies' small purses--you know, the type that Louis Vutton makes with the small handle up by the sweaty armpit.

I watch him everyday--wasting away.

Counting his fingers, counting his bills, counting the days until he has the strength to go out and face the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears

Though she told no one she began to feel anxious that he had not returned around the fourth month when all was better and the sky seemed a bit brighter, after all the clouds of insecurity that were lingering above their lives were blown away by the end of the Summer heat and the cool of the Autumn air.

She's no longer under his spell.

Now she wants him back.

It's time for him to come back.

And the way she smoothes his coat that hangs in the hallway closet shows it, and the way she checks regularly on Clem when she has a light night of patrol shows it, and the way she sleeps with his empty lighter underneath her pillow and looks out the window at night shows it, and the way I watched her once or twice fall asleep crying and whispering his name definitely shows it--at least to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit nervous that the best of all the

Years have gone by

I watch him struggle to get on his legs on September 24th, 2002. He hates the world, hates him himself and hates --above all-- the soul that made him what he is now.

Human.

He walks at night, and hides in corners like a new born fledging, clothed in darkness, writhed in guilt. He jumps whenever someone yells too loud or sulks when someone cries and sobs.

He hates his humanity that makes him look for food.

He hates that he's kept himself from eating for so long that he can barely stand, his eyes get crossed and he faints--there--in the middle of L.A. street he faints.

People start pooling around him, wondering if he's dead, wondering if there's anything they can do. Wonder if he's a nickel junkie who uses his arms as a pin cushion to get through the next 5 hours. They see he isn't and amongst a city who sees abandoned members of society daily it comes as no surprise so a man calls 911 and not long after paramedics are on the scene.

'Those poor homeless folks,' a woman whispers to her husband and they walk away and drive off in their Acura Integra.

'Malnutrition' they state, inject his arms with IV's and get him on the gurney on his way to L.A. Memorial.

There was no ID on patient 934 just a picture of a girl...with her name on the back.

Buffy Summers.

One kind nurse with a tag that read 'Fenner' started searching everyone in L.A. that had that last name...none turned up with the first name Buffy.

She then found it in a little town east of L.A. called 'Sunnydale'.

Her number was listed so on October 5th, 2002 she called the Summers' residence.

No one was there so she left a message. Then hung up and hoped that this girl still cared for patient 934.

Hopefully someone did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit terrified and then I see the look in

Your eyes

She was tired. Beyond tired. She just wanted to grab some ice cream, put on Breakfast at Tiffany's and let the night wash over her.

Dawn was shopping with Julie for a pair of shoes for the Fall Formal. She often remembered the days of her youth where she could plan for formals, and drool over much too hulky boys in football jerseys.

But not her. Not this slayer, not this young blonde that was over analytical and lived a total unexpected life.

Only a few had understood...and those had always had trains to catch.

I saw her walk by her answering machine, see that there were 2 messages pending and shrug and walk right by them. She didn't want to listen to Xander gripe about Anya.

She watched her Breakfast at Tiffany's and cried when Holly runs after Paul and they embrace, squashing the wet cat between them, there in the rain in the dirty streets of New York City. She sighs, looks at the clock and wonders why her sister is not back.

Frowning she goes to the phone, and gives in, to check what Xander has to say this time.

'You have 2 new messages, press 'P' to Play or 'E' to Exit.' She pressed P.

'October 5th at 4pm.'

"Buffy...this is Xander. I was wondering if you wanted to go out
Bronzing...I just had another fight with Anya and I...I just need to talk. Well, you know where to reach me, see ya."

Buffy rolled her eyes and deleted the message.

Next message.

'October 5th, 7:35 pm'

"Hello, good afternoon. My name is Betty Fenner, I'm a nurse at L.A. Memorial..." Buffy's chest thumped, had something happened to Dawn? "I'm sure this is going to come out of the blue but we have a patient with us...he's a John Doe and I was hoping you could help us. The only thing he had on him was a picture of a 'Buffy Summers'. He quite pale, has bleached tips on the ends of his long hair and has blue eyes and was wearing all black when found, if you could give is back a call at 254-8899 my extension is 55224. Thank you for your time."

I also watched her promptly sway, hold onto the wall and rest her head against it's cool texture.

Her hand was shaky as she dialled the number back.

"Humm..yes, may I speak with Betty Fenner?...Thanks!" She waited for a bit and I watched as she gulped back tears.

"Betty? Hi, I'm Buffy--Buffy Summers you left me a message..."

"Oh yes! I'm so glad you called back, do you happen to know this young man?"

"Is he...is he dead?" she gulped audibly and I watched her pick the splinters of the wooden table that held the phone.

"Oh no! He's just malnourished but we've been nursing him back to health."

"What?" she went pale. "He's...alive?"

"Of course!"

The phone dropped along with Buffy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turnaround bright eyes, every now and

Then I fall apart

Nurse Fenner was filling out her time sheet, around 11pm when a small young woman came in, her hair was dripping wet, stuck to her forehead--soaked to the bone by the rain outside.

She walked up to her desk, hugging the large leather duster around her small form.

"Can I help you?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes...I'm looking for Betty Fenner," she said shakily.

Betty eyes her carefully. "Buffy Summers?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Oh! I'm glad you came, look at you all wet, come with me, I'll show you were William is at."

Buffy gave her a small smile and followed the woman. Betty took her through some corridors until they reached a completely quiet area of the hospital. "He's not supposed to have visitors but I think he might wake up soon and I'd hate for him to feel all alone."

Buffy nodded, her head still spinning and jumbling against the confines of her head. "Right..."

She stopped in front of door 741, on the right.

"Just be quiet, let me or any of the nurses know if he wakes up."

Buffy nodded and slowly entered the room, head bowed, afraid to look up, afraid it might not be him, afraid that perhaps he was really alive and it would make it all too real, all too complicated all too simple.

But he was there, pale against the hospital covers, thin and dry.

She walked slowly up to him, mesmerized by the heart monitor and how it 'beeped' --a constant reminder that he was really there.

He was really alive.

His left hand was resting next to her, fingernails dirty, knuckles with scabs, healing from being broken.

His cheekbones were sharp visible and gaunt, telling her he had probably not eaten in days, and the tear tracks that still ran down his cheeks told her his nightmares were haunting him even in the whiteness of the room.

She suddenly felt very alone and lost.

She didn't know what to do.

So to cry or be pissed at him, to be happy and relieved that she had found him but to be worried about what had happened.

She had made it here in a daze, the type of dream you follow in the mist of the dream until it seems too real and too fake to wake up.

So she sat next to his bed and watched the tears trickle down his face until she also fall asleep, rocked by the lullaby of his beating heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turnaround bright eyes, every now and

Then I fall apart

She lost track of how many hours she'd been there when she woke up and then she slept again, but he didn't budge, the tears didn't stop and she could see him twitch once in a while. She watched as nurse came in and nurse left, taking
blood sample from him, checking his blood pressure, making sure he was still alive. While Buffy tried to understand why he was alive.

Until around 7:35AM he stirred.

She jumped up from her seat and stood next to him, watching anxiously as his moved his head back and forth, moved his hand and squinted at the light.

She wanted to call his name but somehow nothing came out of her mouth and she mouthed like a goldfish out of water back and forth, as she gripped her hands and wriggled them together, hoping against hope that something would happen, she was tired of waiting.

But it was him that called her name.

"Buffy?" It was a mere whisper, a shadow of a sound.

But it was real.

She moved forwards, leaning in, not sure what to do now.

"I'm here..."

But it wasn't a plea that came from his lips, it was a sob.

He was still dreaming. He started shaking his head back and forth as tears continued to flow from his closed lids, and then the murmurs came. Murmurs that sounded like 'sorry's and 'please forgive me's.

She couldn't stand it anymore, she hated this she hated him this way and she hated what had happened to him so in an act that she would later call 'craziness' she grabbed on this hand. The thin, pale and warm skeletal thing that had become his hand.

"Spike, it's okay," she whispered, and without further warning she cupped his cheek, smoothing away the flow of tears.

He wriggled against her touch, wriggled until something unexpected happened.

He opened his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit restless and I dream of

Something wild

So there she was. His archangel of hope.

His Marie Antoinette.

"Oh Balls..." he muttered.

A muttering that made her drop his hand like cold codfish.

She was shocked. After spending all these hours worrying if he was okay, he had to be upset at seeing her again.

Her eyes narrowed.

"What the hell happened to you and how dare you just call me and expect me to care?" she spit out.

He closed his eyes and she could see him rolling them in annoyance under his lids.

"Get out," he gritted out.

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit helpless and I'm lying like a child

In your arms

She was hurt.

And shocked.

And was not about to let him see her cry.

So she picked up her sweater and left his coat on the hospital chair.

"Don't ask for my help again," she spat out.

"I won't, now get the bloody hell out!" he growled.

She was glad that his eyes were closed and turned away from her ...so he couldn't see her own tear tracks down her cheeks.

She ran out of there, ran out the hall, past the questioning kind nurse and to the parking lot.

She jumped in her mom's SUV--the car in which she thought she was going to take him home in.

He would've been sitting here, this--this leather.

But no--he had to be his usual assholian self.

I watched as a look of disgust was placed on her face and she got out of the car, glaring at the leather seats.

But her knees were not cooperating and she sunk down in the parking lot, resting her forehead against the dirty tire and she cried.

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit angry and I know I've got to get out and cry

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

Little bit terrified but then I see the look in your eyes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turnaround bright eyes, every now and

Then I fall apart

Turnaround bright eyes, every now and

Then I fall apart

After she had left he ripped the IV from his arm and stood up, the nurses started to file in, demanding that he go back to bed, but he stood up, throwing the gown on the floor and walking around naked as he was sent to this world, looking for some clothes.

He finally grabbed some hospital scrubs and his coat and walked out.

They called security and for some reason when the guards saw the determined look on his face and they left him alone.

He walked out into the parking lot.

He walked until he found her, curled up against her car's tire.

He sighed.

He bend down and picked her up, she struggled just a bit, until she felt it was him and sagged against him, protesting and telling him he was too weak to drive or to carry her but her ignored her and placed her in the passenger's seat, wrapping his coat around her small body.

And I need you now tonight

And I need you more than ever

And if you'll only hold me tight

We'll be holding on forever

And we'll only be making it right

Cause we'll never be wrong together

He ignored her when she said she wasn't tired, though her eyes closed and she was snoring by the time he slid in behind the wheel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He drove straight to Sunnydale...though his bladder was about to burst he held it.

She stirred when they turned on Revello Drive. "What time is it?" she asked, yawning.

"10:15."

She nodded and looked at him, there driving her car in the sunlight...it was...too normal.

"My life is soap opera," she murmured.

I watched as he grinned when she turned her head. "What is that supposed to mean?" She made a small snorting sound.

"It just is...I could write a book."

"I bet it'll pay for all the bills," he bit back.

"Yeah...but I couldn't sit in front of the computer for that long, I'll get droopy assed." He smiled at that. This time she caught him. "What's so funny?"

He shrugged his anorexic looking shoulders. "Dunno, pet, I imagined you with a droopy ass."

She made a face as he pulled up to her driveway, the early morning fog almost burned away.

No sooner had they parked that he jumped out of the car and ran to the house.

She was startled and grabbed the keys from the engine and followed him.

She could hear him running up the stairs...then he cursed loudly.

She winced as she closed the front door, then heard him open the bathroom door
and close it.

He was there for a while and she decided that it was best to make some tea.

After about fifteen minutes she heard him open the door and clear his throat.

"Humm...Buffy?"

Curiosity peeked, she peeked to the top of the stairs. He was standing there...in only a towel.

"What happened?" she asked him, concern in her voice. He didn't meet
her eyes.

"I..." he clenched his jaw. "God this is embarrassing."

"Spike...what happened?" she started up the stairs.

"No!" he held his hand up, and this really got her concerned...maybe it was the way she could see all of his ribs from his almost translucent skin.

"I...I had an accident..."

She arched a brow.

He sighed. "I couldn't hold my bloody bladder, okay?"

She stared at him for a moment....then burst out laughing as he glowered at her.

"Not bloody funny." he grit out.

"Oh--but it is!" she squealed in delight.

He waited, red faced as she controlled herself...then she lost composure as she saw him glaring at her. After about fifteen minutes of laughter she was able to look at the situation in all seriousness.

"I'll fill a bowl with soapy water and you can clean...your mess."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I apologize..."

Her eyes sharply looked at him. His accent was suddenly much smoother, and he looked very much like...a shy poet.

"Did you also get your soul?" she asked him, it was a mere whisper, I had to strain to hear it.

But his eyes didn't meet hers, he looks around at the wall, then tugged his towel a bit.

She sighed and I could tell this was way too much for her to deal with at one time. "Get cleaned up...and take a shower...I'll make some dinner."

We can take it to the end of the line

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time

I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark

We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks

I really need you tonight

Forever's gonna start tonight

Forever's gonna start tonight

He nodded, I could see he was thankful that she didn't probe anymore--this conversation was meant to be had over tea and sweet cookies.

So I watched as she made a light chicken soup with what she had left of carrots and potatoes while he smelled all the shampoo bottles in Joyce's bathroom...he had chosen this bathroom since he couldn't bear to enter...the other bathroom.

He found a pair of loose jogging pants that he guessed either belonged to Riley or to Xander...the thought of them belonging to either made his balls itch. So he scratched them...and for the first time he caught himself in the mirror.

Was that him? He tilted his head to the side.

Was that really him? Tilt to other side. I watched as he played with the large mirror for a good thirty minutes, inspecting his chest, his ass, his ears, his hair (he scowled at that). He danced before it until Buffy came in, holding back at smile as she had obviously caught him in the middle of a hop.

"Dinner's ready...I bet you're hungry," she smiled. "Chicken soup...that's missing chicken but--"

"I bet it's great," he nodded encouragingly, he knew she was short on money, he had never thought that maybe they were short on food. That thought alone made his stomach turn.

"I'll let you be the judge," she motioned for him to follow her.

He did.

On his way down the stairs he almost knocked the table, a painting and a lamp.

He was nervous.

"It's just me, okay?" she reassured him as she helped him fix the almost tipping lamp.

"I know, it's just that...well you see..."

"Everything is different?" she asked him, looking up to his almost hollow eyes, where was that tiny blue spark of shine she had always loved about them?

"Yeah...it is..." he whispered, and looked away--everything suddenly felt so...warm.

"C'mon...chicken-less chicken soup is getting cold." she grabbed his hand and dragged him down the stairs. And if there was one thing he now regretted was that he no longer felt her intense heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soup was a miracle from god. It tasted pure divine.

He slurped it until she had to fill his bowl 4 times. She was glad she had added so much water to the soup.

"I'm taking the lacking of chicken was no biggie?" she asked
tentatively, and almost flattered that he enjoyed her cooking so much.

"It was bloody brilliant! If you always cook this good I might as well marry you," he slurped loudly.

Completely missing Buffy's stunned face.

"What did you ...say?" she asked, as he delightedly popped the last soft carrot into his mouth.

"Humm..." more slurping. "That this is brilliant."

"No...the other part..." she encouraged.

But he got the point, I could see it in the way he suddenly lost interest in his soup.

"It was a joke, pet."

She was insulted.

But didn't show it.

"Right...of course..." she took his plate as he cleaned his drippy
chin. "So...ever plan on telling me how you're a humanoid now?"

But the moment she said he looked so tired, she saw how thin he was, and how the dark circles under his eyes shone back at her, hiding the intensity of his blue eyes.

"But...I'm guessing you're tired." she nodded. "It's okay...it
can wait."

He stood up, a bit unsure of himself. "I...went in search of a soul." he looked back at her, trying to ignore her completely surprised_expression. "After we last...you know," he gulped. "The last time I saw you..." and this time she couldn't look away. There was such raw pain there that it made her flinch. "I hated myself....I needed....I needed to make myself into something you...deserved. So I did it."

"Did what?" she spat out, her small thin arms flinging about, confused as hell. "What have you done to yourself! Have you lost your mind?!"

"I thought I was doing the right thing--"

"Well you didn't!" she hissed. "Anything of too many things
could've happened to you and I wouldn't have even known what had happened had you not had that nasty 12th grade picture of me in your pocket! Did you ever stop to think of how I might feel?"

He was blown away. Not sure if he should be hopeful or depressed. But lately everything made him depressed...so he opted for that.

"You're...I'm sorr--I apologize...." he was quiet and shifted a bit. "For everything."

Suddenly this was no longer home, it was more of a prison--a prison were he was forced to admit all these things he wasn't prepared to admit.

"I'll go," he said quietly...and ran off into the night.

"Fuck," she cursed quietly and ran after him.

Once upon a time I was falling in love

But now I'm only falling apart

There's nothing I can do

A total eclipse of the heart

Once upon a time there was light in my life

But now there's only love in the dark

Nothing I can say

A total eclipse of the heart

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over The Rainbow