******
Where has the time all gone to?
Haven't done half the things we want to.
Oh, well,
We'll catch up some other time.
- On the Town
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I. Occupying
She’d been acting funny ever since she’d followed Kyle and his friends into the Hyena cage. After three days of Buffy doing her best Cordelia impression, Xander finally cornered the Slayer in an empty science classroom.
"Buffy, we have to talk."
"We really don’t," she said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.
Xander picked his way around a few desks, moving toward Buffy while keeping in mind Giles’s warning to not get too close. "You made Willow cry. Those things you said to her...this isn’t you."
Buffy laughed, shrill cruelty burrowing in Xander’s ears. "Sure looks like me." Manicured hands easily pulled off her top shirt button. "Don’t you think?"
Xander got the inexplicable urge to run. Ridiculous, considering Buffy was his friend, but inexplicable urges tend to be ridiculous as a rule. In the five seconds he’d used to glance at the door and gauge his distance from it, Buffy had closed the space between them. She smiled sweetly and licked her lips before throwing him to the floor and sliding down to straddle him.
"Buffy, you don’t know what you’re doing," Xander croaked. "Giles told me, there are these Primal guys...."
Buffy squirmed on top of him, undoing another button. "You didn’t come here to talk about Giles or Willow."
"I didn’t?" Xander tried to keep his eyes off the pale blue bra peeking out from the shirt. "Um...you’re right. I came here to, uh, ask if I could borrow your History notes." Keep looking at her eyes, only her eyes, don’t do anything weird, don’t do anything that would make Buffy thoroughly kick your ass once Giles finds a way to de-hyena-fy her. "Cause, um, I wasn’t paying attention in class and History is...you know...." He tried to keep his breathing normal as she smirked and wriggled. "I mean, doomed to repeat it and all."
"That’s not what you came her for," she hissed, bending down and bringing the tops of her breasts directly in his eyeview. Sliding her hands up his chest and wrapping them around his throat, squeezing lightly, she said, "You came here to take what you’ve always wanted. Well, guess what?" Buffy trailed her tongue along his cheek and growled low. "It’s your lucky day."
Xander shook his head, only vaguely aware of her nails digging into his throat. "Not like this, Buffy. I didn’t...don’t want this."
"Like hell you don’t," Buffy grinned. She tossed her hair back and ripped the rest of her shirt off, rocking against Xander, bending down and covering his mouth with hers. As Buffy rocked faster, harder, Xander found himself slipping his arms around her, drawing her closer, ignoring the warning bells going off in his head.
A small whimper drew Xander’s attention away from Buffy and over to the hunched figure in the doorway behind them.
"Oh, god, Willow...."
II. Enchanting
"Well, Buffy, maybe if you hadn’t waited until Halloween morning to go to the costume shop, you would have found something better," Willow chided as she fussed with the sleeves of her ghost sheet.
"I know, I know. I was totally in denial over Snyder’s stupid babysitting assignment until the last minute. But it’s not too bad, right?" She leaned towards a car window, surveying the long black wig and witch’s dress. "Especially since I skipped the ugly green makeup and moles, which means I don’t have to run in the opposite direction if I see Angel." Buffy frowned. "No, I don’t have to run, I can just hide. In the bushes."
"Buffy, Angel doesn’t care what you look like," Willow said.
Buffy emitted a small squeak. "What do you mean he doesn’t care??"
"Uh, I mean, he already likes how you look, and, you know, he won’t mind the wig, and did I mention he already likes how you look?"
"I know. I guess." Buffy sighed. "It’s just hard to figure out what’s going on with him, you know? He’s so quiet and confusing."
"Yeah, because most men are open books," Willow grinned.
"Good point. But from here on in, I’m gonna stop avoiding him when things get weird. It’s my resolution." She put her hands on her hips and nodded. "My Halloween resolution: stop running away from Angel."
"Sounds like a plan."
The kids rejoined the girls on the sidewalk, excitedly comparing their candy hauls, and the group started walking up the street again. "Hey, do you see Xander anywhere?"
Before Buffy could answer, Willow suddenly fell to her knees, gasping and clawing at her throat. "Oh my god, Willow, what’s wrong?" She knelt beside Willow’s prone form, ignoring the weird buzzing feeling coursing throughout her body. "Willow, hey!" Buffy shook her and started to pull the sheet off when Willow suddenly bolted up.
Minus her body.
"Uh...." Willow looked down at the halter-top and her sheeted body still lying on the sidewalk. "This can’t be good."
Buffy sat back on her haunches. "What’s going on? Are you split in two or something?"
"Or something." She stood up and moved her arms around, testing them. "I think, and anywhere but Sunnydale this might sound insane, but I think we’re turning into our costumes."
"Are you sure?"
Willow nodded and gestured to the kid-sized demons running amok on the street. "Plus...um...you may want to look at your face in a mirror."
Buffy sprang up and darted to the nearest car window. "Oh my god oh god oh holy...warts?!"
"I guess because you’re a witch now?"
"So I’m a witch, fine, but why warts?" Buffy wailed.
"Well, the makeup came with the costume. And not to be rude but hey, can we maybe concentrate on me being dead first?"
"Oh geez, sorry." Buffy bit her lip and tugged at the long black hair. "We can fix this. We can totally fix this. Hey, maybe I can use witch powers to make you alive again."
Willow bounced on the balls of her feet and crossed her arms in front of her bare torso. "I don’t know, Buffy. Maybe you should wait until you actually know witchcraft before, you know, re-animating the dead?"
"Right. No, you’re right. We’ll go find Giles. But I wonder...." She extended a hand towards a mailbox and said, "Abracadabra!" The mailbox flap flopped open. Buffy grinned at Willow. "Maybe this magic stuff isn’t total new age bull."
"Miss Calendar will be happy to hear you say that," Willow laughed. "Uh oh, Buffy, don’t look now, but isn’t that Angel across the street?"
"So much for not running from Angel," Buffy muttered as she scooped up Willow’s body and took off for the school.
III. Twisting
At eight-thirty p.m., Giles woke up. The library swam as he groggily pushed himself off the floor, pieces of a shattered teacup slicing into his palms. Last he remembered, he’d been drinking the tea Travers had prepared when the older Watcher informed him that Buffy had gone ahead to fight Kralik. Giles swore to go after her, but Travers had merely smiled as Giles’s world turned black.
Furiously, he stood up and, after a brief pause to grab a crossbow and axe, ran out of the library and towards the old boarding house. Towards Buffy.
The house stood silent, dismal and foreboding, when he arrived there five minutes later and out of breath. Giles tried to remain calm and ignore the chill creeping up his spine as he quietly crept towards the ajar front door. Finding the foyer empty, Giles tightened his grip on the axe and continued into the rest of the house. Blood speckled the walls, and when he rounded one corner he was able to make out a distinct bloody handprint in the middle of one of the closed doors. Giles did his best to keep his eyes to the ground, trying to avoid the gruesome scene. It didn’t help, because there were even more crimson streaks and gobs of gore on the carpeting.
He finally found the door to the basement, and when he was halfway down he saw Joyce tied to a chair.
"Oh, god...." Clambering down the rest of the stairs, not realizing he dropped his weapons, praying for the best. The savage gashes across her throat and blank eyes confirmed the worst.
As he bent down to untie her corpse, he noticed a sneaker hanging partially out of the doorway leading to a half-hidden side room.
Numbly, Giles stood and walked slowly forward until he could see inside. Until he could see Buffy lying still, legs and arms splayed out in opposing directions, two neat holes over her jugular. Giles fought the bile rising in his throat and rushed over to her side.
When he kneeled down and gently tilted her face towards his, her eyelids fluttered, then snapped open.
"Giles?" Her gravelly whisper was the single most comforting sound he’d ever heard.
"Oh, thank god, you’re alright. Don’t move, we have to get you to the hospital, get a transfusion." Giles pulled off his coat and laid it over her, fingertips grazing her cold skin; he hoped she hadn’t already gone into shock.
Buffy pushed herself into a sitting position despite his protests. "Giles, I feel…." As she turned her head away from him, some hair pulled loose from the ponytail to cover her face.
"Yes?" He reached over to tuck the errant hair behind her ears, and recoiled when his fingers met unnaturally rough skin.
"I feel great." Buffy turned to him, eyes shining amber. "Powerful." She struck out at Giles, effortlessly sending him flying across the room and into the wall. Gingerly standing up and dusting herself off, Buffy coolly regarded him. "In fact, I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed being the Slayer, being powerful, until you took that away from me." She sneered and let her features melt back into human form. "You’re not going to get the chance to take it away from me again. Now, sorry to run, but I’ve got places to go, people to see. We’ll finish this later."
Buffy calmly walked past him, past her mother tied to the chair, and she didn’t give Giles a second glance as she walked up the stairs. Giles lay stunned as he watched the gloom of the house swallow her from his sight.
IV. Changing
"Do you think Dad will take us shopping?" Dawn was sitting on Buffy’s bed, watching her pick out clothes. The blue top was put aside to be packed, the black skirt rejected in favor of the jeans.
Buffy shrugged. "Don’t know. You know how he gets. He’ll either spend all his time with Cindi, or he’ll feel so guilty about doing that last time that we’ll come home with lots of shoes."
"Oh." Dawn picked up the silver cross pendant from Buffy’s bedside table and turned it over in her hands. "So I guess you’re going to see Angel while we’re in LA."
Buffy spun around and gaped at her sister. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, I don’t know, I mean, you guys haven’t seen each other since you blew up the high school."
"No, I haven’t seen him since then." Buffy turned back to the closet and pulled out a short red dress, holding it up against herself. "He saw me just a few days ago."
"What do you mean?"
"While you and mom were at Aunt Darlene’s for Thanksgiving, Angel came back to town. It was supposed to be a secret, but Xander ended up blurting it out." The red dress joined the black skirt in the reject pile.
"Wow." Dawn quickly put the pendant back on the table.
"Yeah. So...I don’t know if I’m gonna go see him or not."
"You should."
Buffy once again turned around to gape at Dawn. "Are you feeling okay?"
"What? Like that’s so crazy?" Dawn said defensively.
"Coming from you, yeah." Turning back to the closet, Buffy rooted through for a second before pulling out a green halter. "I mean, you were practically vice-president of the I Hate Angel fanclub last year, with Xander as your faithful leader."
"I don’t hate Angel." Dawn stood up and walked over to the closet, pulling out a red cowl sweater and handing it to Buffy. "Try this one. But yeah, I don’t hate Angel. It’s just...I mean, you tried to keep it from me, and then you ran away and mom tried to keep it from me...but I knew he was the reason you were so unhappy. I just didn’t know why." Dawn rifled through the closet and pulled out a denim skirt, holding it next to the cowl sweater. "Then I found out, and...I just didn’t want you getting hurt again. But I think you should go see him, especially if you’re going to be all cranky because he was spying on you. Take it out on him instead of me."
Buffy smiled and draped her arm around Dawn’s shoulders. "Maybe I will." Then she put the cowl sweater and halter top back in the closet and sighed. "But now that you’ve mentioned it, I do hope Dad takes us shopping. I really need some new clothes."
V. Relating
The moonlight made a jagged pattern on the porch. She watched the light play against the dark, changing every time the wind rustled the branches. Watched her tears hit the ground and reflect the moon back into her eyes. When all the patches of light were suddenly blotted out, she pulled her forehead off her knees and looked up.
"What is it now?"
Spike had no idea what to say. He finally settled on, "What’s wrong?"
"I don’t want to talk about it," she muttered.
"Is there something I can do?"
Buffy mutely stared straight ahead and tried to concentrate on the trees fluttering in the wind. After a few moments, Spike sat down beside her, awkwardly patting her back.
It was reminiscent of this family reunion her mom had dragged Buffy to years before. She’d been slaying for a year, had already been kicked out of Hemery and spent some time in the loony bin, and the extended family had no idea how to act around her anymore. The younger members avoided her eyes and found convenient excuses to leave the room when she approached them, but the older relatives – the aunts and the grandmothers – they just patted her shoulder and smiled sadly, caught between sympathy and confusion. Her mom had finally picked up on Buffy’s discomfort and sent her to the store to pick up some more chips, any excuse to get out of her great-aunt’s house.
Spike had distracted her for a few seconds, but now she was thinking about her mom again. Minutes rolled by with little to break up the silence, save for the occasional passing car full of rowdy teenagers and their loud, thumping music. Kids with nothing better to think about than the newest bands and finding the perfect lipgloss. The kind of teenager Buffy could barely remember being. Riley acting weird, her mom getting sick, Dawn...everything was falling apart, and Buffy needed something to hold on to.
She chose Spike’s hand.
He was startled when she slid her hand into his, but gave her a small, reassuring squeeze. Still looking straight ahead, Buffy felt the tears begin their trail along her cheek, sliding down her neck and dampening the collar of her sweater. The trickle of tears gave way first to a lump in her throat, and finally to great rolling sobs that shook her shoulders and sent her hair falling forward to cover her face.
But Spike still held her hand, not saying a word as she let it out. When the sobbing finally petered out to sniffles, he tensed up, waiting for her to turn to him and chase him away. Instead, she looked at him, half-veiled through damp hair. Without warning, she slid closer and kissed him, hard and hungry. Buffy’s free hand clawed at his chest while he returned her kiss and pulled her closer.
As Buffy gently tugged on his lower lip, an errant tear dropped from her eye and onto Spike’s cheek. An unusual pang of common sense jolted through Spike. He didn’t want this to be just another regret for the Slayer in the morning. He also didn’t want her to take said regret out on him with a pointy stake. So he untangled his hand from hers and carefully pushed her away.
"Not like...you don’t want this."
Buffy opened her mouth to protest when her mother’s voice rang out from inside.
"Buffy?"
"I’m out here mom, I’ll be there in a second!" she yelled over her shoulder. Then she turned back to Spike. "I’m really sorry. I...everything’s been so crazy and...."
"You don’t need to...explain, or anything." Spike stood up, then held his hands out to Buffy, who grabbed them and dragged herself to her feet. "Go on, your mum’s waiting."
Buffy smiled weakly. "Thanks."
When the back door has closed behind her, he softly said, "Anytime, pet."
The End
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