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In The Beginning There Can Be Only One

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Summary: Willow's choice for Halloween has consequences stretching into the future. Way into the future.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Highlander > Willow-Centered(Recent Donor)RngrThorneFR1834,67903710,49010 Apr 0927 Jul 14No

Chapter 2

I decided to post this little scene, since I thought it was funny.

Buffy’s world snapped into focus as she felt someone sit on the side of the bed by her knees. Her senses weren’t screaming vampire or demon, but there was still something off about them. Kinda like Willow this past week, she thought to herself. Opening her eyes caused her to sit upright as she recognized the figure sitting glumly beside her.

“Spike, what are you doing in here?” she asked. “And how did you get in here, anyway?”

“Don’t worry, Slayer,” Spike said in a tired voice, “I’m keeping my hands to myself.”

“It’s not your hands I’m worried about.” Pulling her legs under her, she got into a kneeling position at the top of the bed. Don’t want to be trapped under the covers, she thought to herself.

“Oh,” he almost smiled, “my fangs. Well, love, they’re gone.”

“Gone? You see a demented dentist or something?”

When he turned to look at her she could see the confusion on his face. “Wish that was it. I woke up the morning after our last little fun-fest and found myself minus my game face and everything else that made me a vampire.” The almost-smile returned for a moment. “Even the taste of blood makes me ill, now. I hope this is what you were hoping for when you did whatever the hell it was you did.”

“I didn’t do anything, Spike.”

“Well someone did!” he snapped, coming to his feet.

“Keep it down!” she hissed.

“Or what, I’ll wake your Mum?”

“Yes,” she growled, “and that would make me very unhappy. In a ‘beat Spike until he’s a spot on the carpet’ kind of way.”

“Ah,” he said in a quieter voice. “Well, I was hoping I could find out just what you did and how I can get you to fix it.”

“You want to be a vampire again?”

“No, I want to stop feeling all,” he shrugged, “icky inside.”

Buffy blinked twice. “Icky?” she finally asked.

“Yeah.” Waving his hands as he tried to find the words, Spike finally managed, “Whenever I think about what happened, what I did in the past. I feel . . . icky.”

“You mean ‘guilty.’”

“So that’s what guilt feels like?” Spike scowled for a moment. “I don’t like it.”


“Look, Slayer,” he glared at her with all the menace he could manage, “I’ve tried everything to be myself again. I even paid someone to try to turn me all over again. All I got was some nasty pain and stiffness of waking up on a stone floor. Now tell me what you bloody Yanks did to me!”

“We,” she said in a very calm voice, “didn’t do anything to you. But I’d consider the fact that you might, just might, have a second chance and take advantage. For now?” Buffy got to her feet. “For now, I’d get out of my room. I’ve got a quiz tomorrow and I need my sleep.” When he continued to glare, she put a hand on her hip and said, “It’s in English. One of the words is ‘defenestration.’”


“It means throwing someone out the window.” She smiled. “Care for a demo?”

Spike glanced from the open window to the Slayer and back as he thought about how the girl had beaten him when he was still a vampire. Without those abilities, he knew, she’d have no trouble tossing him out the second story opening. “I think I’ll be,” he waved toward the window as he moved toward it, “you know, leaving.”


Spike was outside and reaching up to close the window when he found himself unable to resist. “Nice outfit, by the way,” he told her just before the window closed completely.

Buffy glanced down at her almost-long-enough T-shirt before turning to growl at the window.
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