Buffy’s vision swims. Her eyelids flicker open. Rising from the black to a swirling sea of clinical white. Weak. Numb. A buzzing headache makes her wince. She stares out into this new world and waits for order to return.

“Buffy?” a male voice asks softly. A hand brushes her brow. Avoids the dressing on her head.

She tries to move. Sit up. She wants to see the face. Needs to see him. Needs to know he’s real. The room tilts and shifts. She feels sick. Her head hurts. Gives up.

“Stay still,” the voice says. Places a box with a button into her hand. “There’s morphine if you need it.”

She presses it. The pain recedes a little.

“Spike?” her voice is feeble. Doesn’t sound like her own.

He leans in close. That’s better, even if the harsh hospital lighting draws the life from his skin. She’s pleased to see him.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, concerned.

"Crappy," she manages.

His mouth sinks into a worried frown. "You in pain?"

"A little."

"Soon be over." He adds a quick reassuring squeeze to her hand.

He looks tired. Worn out. It can’t have been long since he found her. Maybe. She can’t add the days up anymore.

"How… How long have you been here?"

"All night,” he replies. “And yesterday. Not leaving you."

He’d brought her home to sea of faces she hadn't remembered. Friends she didn’t think she had. A sister she didn’t know, and isn’t even sure about now. But, robbed of her memories of them, she’d only wanted to be with him, the one who’d slipped through her programming. Now she knows why.

"I dreamt you were dead."

He looks away. "Don’t think about it."

But she does. It matters. She remembers why she’s here now. The Government put a chip in her head. Like him. Suppressed her humanity. Made her forget her past, her friends, her family… and Spike. They made her into a lab rat. Used her as a subject of study not a human being.

What makes a Slayer tick?

Oh god.

The queasy feeling returns. The Slayer was a predator, violent and sexual, with tremendous appetites, now reined in only by her human morality. Sex and blood and the kill. She’s not so different from those she hunts after all.

Spike knows what she’s thinking. "Don’t try to remember."

No, no. She must! That’s what they took from her. She needs everything. Even the memories of what they made her do. Of what she chose to do. It makes her sick to think of it all. But she mustn’t lose it. She’ll lock them away with the death and heartbreak, the struggle and regret. But she’ll keep the key.

"You’re here," she says with wonder as she realises why his presence is so remarkable. "You survived. The Hellmouth."

"Yeah."

She thinks he looks a little guilty. What for?

"Funny thing that."

"Tell me."

"Long story. Best leave it for later. You’re tired."

And she is, but she’s not ready to sleep just yet. “Is it gone?”

His eyes drift a moment to the bandage on her head. “The chip? Yeah, it’s gone. ‘Nother thing we have in common, eh?”

She smiles. He catches it. She likes his smiles. She wants to see more of them. For a moment all is good.

He’s full of sympathy. “Nasty business. Messin’ with people’s heads. Isn’t right.”

Can’t argue with that. “I did… things. Things that disgust me.”

He listens. Lets her speak. Doesn’t judge. She thinks she’ll tell him everything in time. She’ll let the others get by on the edited highlights.

“I… liked vampires. I needed them.”

He nods. He knew that. Always did. “Slayer needs some monster in her man. Needs that edge, that strength.”

“Wicked energy,” she says dreamily.

He’s puzzled by that phrase but he doesn’t push her.

“I’m not like that you know,” she tells him finally.

He looks doubtful. Tries to cover it. Maybe he was right. He’s seen that side of her more than anyone. “No, you’re not, but it’s in you. Part of the Slayer. Nothing wrong with it.”

“You would say that.”

A small frown spoils his good humour again, but this time there’s more to it. He’s really serious. “I’m still proud of you.”

She’ll never stop being amazed by him. He isn’t ashamed of her. She needs that. “Thank you.”

“No one knew where you’d gone. I looked for you. We all did. Two years.”

Two years?

Must have been. She’d been moved around a lot. Different cities, different countries, different bases. Always demons to fight. Everywhere she’d gone she’d been observed, studied, until it felt so normal that she hadn’t thought to question it.

Why hadn’t she run away? She can’t say.

“How did this happen?” he asks.

She thinks for a while, unsure of where it had all begun. Remembers a dark time without him. The colours of Italy washed out and faded by a grief she couldn’t express. “I think I volunteered.”

He looks appalled. “Volunteered?”

A vampire appalled, she should find that funny, she thinks, but she doesn’t. Not now. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t think…” she pauses, trying to recapture a memory that doesn’t seem real. “They wanted to study a Slayer. Do a few strength tests, speed tests, psychometric thingys stuff like that. I thought it might take my mind off…” She studies him, she still can’t believe he’s here, “…what happened. I never thought it would be like that.”

“Know how that feels,” He nods.

“I didn’t trust them,” she reassures him, “not after they tried to kill me, anyway. But I knew I couldn’t let one of the other girls do it. They wouldn’t know. I couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

He understands. She’s relieved, but there’s one more thing she wants to know before she rests. “Why did you… in that alley?”

“Been a long time, pet.” He looks a little shamefaced. His eyes drop to his feet. Tries to make light of it. Avoids all those things he wants to say but she knows he won’t. “Not one these days for the whole dating scene.”

It’s not really funny, but she laughs anyway. It’s summery and carefree; or would be given time.

“You… She… reminded me of you.”

His words cut her laugh short. They’re honest. Brutal. This is the heavy stuff. Best talk about this later when she’s better and they can work out the future together. They have all the time in the world; maybe they can figure something out. She lets him know with a look that they will come back to this.

She decides to change the subject. She wants to talk about him. "You’re really strong now."

He smirks. "Got some lessons from a goddess, love."

A goddess? She has a lot to catch up on. “She’s a good teacher.”

“Yeah. Got the bruises to prove it.”

She tries to sit up again. She’s stronger now, but still woozy. She flails weakly and Spike’s firm hand pushes her back into the pillows. She snuggles down under the covers. Curls into the pillow. Reaches out for his hand again. Pulls it close. Holds it. "I missed you."

He smiles. "Me too."

"I love you," she whispers. Her eyelids are getting so heavy. “Do you still…?”

“Never stopped.” He looks touched beyond words. After all this time he still didn’t know. Not really.

Her thumb caresses his hand in lazy circles. Slower and slower as she sinks into sleep. “You won’t leave me again?”

He leans in and kisses her brow softly. It’s a vow. “Never, love. Never again.”

The End