The chilling air had dried the crimson mark on Spike's lip from when Buffy had badly beaten him. He was more pallid than usual, which emphasized the few cuts and bruises around his eyes and on his bottom lip. Willow was huddled over him with her lips pursed together in a rigid line as she shook him slightly to wake him up.

“Spike... Spike, wake up.”

The fucking ground's shaking, Spike thought. Maybe the world's ending. He slowly returned to consciousness, regretting it a little bit, and heard a female voice calling his name. He forced his eyes open as wide as he could with his heavily bruised lids. “Willow?” he asked in a gruff voice he hardly recognized as his own. Everything was still a haze as he propped himself up on his elbows. He'd never felt heavier.

He groaned and winced; the pain was unbearable. The person Willow brought back from the dead wasn't the Slayer. She wasn't Buffy.

Willow slipped one hand behind Spike's back, one hand under his elbow and helped him sit up. “What happened? Where's Buffy?”

Spike shook his head slowly from side to side. “Don't know,” he answered vacantly.

“Did she do this to you?” Her eyes were hopeful and scared at the same time. If Buffy had come back wrong, it was her fault. It meant that she had messed up and that she needed to be the one to fix it. Her hands trembled and she let go of Spike.

The corners of Willow's pink lips dimpled in the beginnings of a smile when Spike snapped out of his daze and shook his head. He looked at her straight in the eyes for the first time. “She's gone daft... all thanks to you.” Spike's voice was spiteful and cold.

Willow frowned and shrunk back, her eyes losing the glint of hope. She sat on her heels and put her hands on her thighs. “What do you mean?”

“She's not Buffy. She's not...” He trailed off, eyes downcast, and took a deep breath. He looked up at Willow again while he clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. “If you saw her...”

The fear in Spike's eyes rendered Willow speechless. It wasn't everyday that one could see Spike, the Big Bad, afraid. She didn't know what to say. All she could think of was that she was to blame for everything. If she hadn't insisted that they bring her back...

But it would have been worse if Buffy spent eternity in hell.

Biting back the tears welling up in her eyes, she said in a quiet voice, “Come on,” and helped Spike stand up. She walked him over to what was left of the couch and sat him on a part where no springs were protruding.

Spike looked behind Willow to see if any of the Scoobies, and Angel in particular, were with her. He saw no one, and wondered if she’d brought anyone at all, or if she’d even told anyone what was happening. He realized that if they found out and saw Buffy as she was now, they'd blame Willow, and he knew she couldn't bear that. “Came here alone, did you?” His voice was barely audible but it was clearly scornful.

Willow averted her eyes and stood up as straight as she could, even though shame was eating at her. “I-I didn't tell them yet.”

“And why is that?”

“I-I plan to. Just not now. I w-wanted to see it for myself first.”

“I suppose that includes checking the merchandise; see if she's working properly. And returning it if it's defective. Is that it?” Spike coughed but didn't look away from the witch.

Willow let out a shaky sigh and shrugged, as if Spike should have understood what she was trying to say. “Spike, if she did this to you...”

It was far from the truth, the explanation Spike thought up. But if it was going to stop Willow from doing something utterly stupid again, like taking Buffy's life just because she was treading on the dark side now, then he had to say it. It didn't matter that he was still too tired to give a long speech.

“I'm a creature she loathes. She didn't have any problem putting me in a wheelchair back then; she shouldn't have a problem beating me to a bloody pulp now.” He paused. “I'd wager she's just angry and she put it all on me because I was the only one here.” Willow winced and dipped her head as Spike's comment hit home. Ignoring her shamed gesture, Spike continued. “And I let her. She's been through enough, being pulled out of heaven and all.”

Willow jerked her head up to face Spike. Her eyes were instantly brimming with tears and her hands shook even more. “W-what?”

Spike shook his head in disbelief. “You were the one to sentence her to hell. This. This is hell. And you sent her here.”

Willow's lips quivered as she tugged on the hem of her light blue blouse. “Bu--But I didn't...” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I thought... Oh God, I have to find her!” Not waiting for a response, Willow hurriedly left the house.

Spike remembered the look in Buffy's eyes when she said that Willow was a witch. Right then, he realized she didn't need Willow for a hug or for girl talk. “No, Red, wait!” But it was too late. Spike dropped down, face first, on the floor. He'd just delivered Buffy what she needed. God only knew what Buffy wanted with a witch, especially now that she was holding on to some cryptic text. He was a complete idiot for not putting two and two together sooner. “Bloody hell.”



Hell. This is hell. The words reverberated through Willow's mind, haunting her, as she wandered the deserted streets of Sunnydale, unarmed, alone and helpless. She didn't exactly know where she was going, or what she really hoped to find. She'd fled the Summers' house wanting to find Buffy, but now, she wasn't too sure. Willow didn't know if she could bear to face her friend after what she'd done.

“Huh. The vampire works fast,” said a voice Willow knew all too well. “I thought he'd still be unconscious.”

The redhead spun around and saw her best friend. She forgot every qualm and smiled widely in happiness and amazement. “Buffy?”

“Yup. That's me. Buffy.” Buffy’s voice was casual.

“It's really you!”

“Yup. It's really me.”

Willow bounded to Buffy, tears streaming down her bright pink cheeks, and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Buffy. I've missed you so much!”

Buffy stood still and wrapped her arms clumsily around Willow. Her nose scrunched up in annoyance and she awkwardly tapped Willow's back three times. “There, there,” she said monotonously.

“I can't believe you're really here.”

“You should.” Buffy tried to pull away from Willow's tight embrace, rolling her eyes and dropping her arms to her sides when Willow wouldn't let her. “You're the one who brought me back.”

Willow pulled away and started in an apologetic voice, “I'm so--”

“And I want to thank you for that. But now, I just need you to do one more little,” Buffy held up her hand and put about an inch of space between her thumb and her forefinger, “favor for me.”

Willow's face lit up as she said, “Anything.”

It was a promise she would soon come to regret.