The Ghost in You
Disclaimer: The characters, and the recognizable scenes belong to Joss Whedon. The title is from a Psychedelic Furs song.
This story goes AU in the middle of Bargaining. Reviewers are wonderful people!
 
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Prologue

“Osiris! Here lies the warrior of the people! Let her cross over!”
 
The spell grew to its climax. Xander, Anya, and Tara watched, terrified, as Willow bled and a snake spewed forth from her mouth. Then they heard the roar of the motorcycles. Heads turning, they saw the approach of horrible looking creatures on bikes – demons, out for blood and mayhem.
 
Xander scooped up Willow and ran, with Tara and Anya close behind. The bikers careened over the shattered urn of Osiris, laughing and shouting. None of the creatures in the cemetery that night saw the figure of a blonde woman in a black dress. “Willow? Xander? What’s happening?” cried the woman. But no one answered her. No one took any notice at all.
 
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Buffy had no idea what was going on. She was back, on earth, it seemed. How did I get here? I was so happy. I was done with all this. Did I do something wrong? Is someone in trouble? Where am I anyway? She looked around and realized she was in a cemetery. She noticed with a little surprise that the grave she was standing on was her own. She saved the world… a lot. Well, ok, I guess they got that right. But that doesn’t explain why my friends were here in the middle of the night, or why I’m here for that matter.  Feeling lost, she walked out of the cemetery and started down the streets toward Revello Drive.
 
She was bewildered by the utter chaos in the town. It seemed familiar, but it looked like a war had broken out. Broken glass from shop windows littered the main streets. Fires burned here and there around crashed cars. Is this Sunnydale? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere and land in hell? A roar behind her made her jump and spin around. A headlight loomed up as the roar of a motorcycle echoed through the street. There was no time to react. She covered her face with her arms and braced for the impact.
 
The impact never came. The motorcycle and its demon driver passed right through her, never pausing as he raced up the street. What the fuck was that?? Buffy wondered. She walked over to a streetlight and tried to touch the pole. Her hand passed right through. A ghost? I’m a ghost?
 
Buffy fought against a rising panic. How? None of this made any sense. Her brain kept repeating, I was in heaven. Now I’m a ghost in Sunnydale. Why? She kept walking past more scenes of destruction. More demon bikers roared past, converging on some location. She followed them, not knowing what else to do, and wondering what they could be up to.
 
In a large open area, she saw them gathered around a blonde female. They had tied chains to her arms and legs. All the demons whooped and cheered. Then Buffy realized that the figure was her. Her hair and eyes, her clothes. She realized with horror that it was the Buffybot. She yelled, “Don’t!” but the demons didn’t hear her. Revving their engines, they accelerated, pulling the bot limb from limb. They danced around, tossing the bot’s arms and legs from one to the other, kicking its torso. Then they saddled up and rode off to create more mayhem, laughing and shouting.
 
Buffy was stunned. She drifted over to the remains of her robot double. She looks like I feel, she thought. She had always hated the stupid toy that Spike had made, but to see oneself torn apart by demons was unsettling, to say the least. She sat down on the ground next to the bot, in a state of shock, wondering what to do next.
 
She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting there when another motorcycle rode up. She jumped up, and was amazed to find that the rider was Spike. Even more curious was his passenger, who pulled off a battered football helmet to reveal herself as Dawn. “Dawn?” Buffy cried. “What are you doing here? It’s me!” But neither Dawn nor Spike made any sign of having heard her. They walked over to the bot. Dawn knelt down, looking on the verge of tears as she stroked the bot’s hair.
 
“Just a machine, Nibblet,” Spike said gently.
 
“I know,” Dawn replied. But it was the closest thing I had to Buffy, she thought, biting her lip.
 
Buffy for her part was completely perplexed. Spike was still here, and apparently was taking care of Dawn. Why? I know he promised to look after her, but with me gone, why? While Buffy was still trying to work this out, the roar of motorcycles returned. Spike jumped up. “Run!” he cried to Dawn. Dawn dashed off to find a place to hide as Spike picked up a discarded chain in one hand. The demons came roaring back, riding around Spike in a circle.
 
“What do you want, vampire?” the leader snarled derisively. “This is our town now.”
 
“I was here first,” Spike replied. He vamped out and launched himself at the nearest biker, knocking him off his bike. Suddenly it was a melee, with Spike lashing out with the chain and his fists. It was an uneven battle, and Spike quickly began getting the worst of it. But he didn’t care. These fuckers were not going to hurt Dawn on his watch. Buffy’s slayer instincts screamed at her to join in the fight, but she could do nothing. She tried kicking and punching the nearest demon, but her insubstantial fists went right through without even slowing it down.
 
As Spike fought on, and Buffy watched, Tara and Anya came running out of an alley. They had been making their way home when Anya had insisted on checking on the Magic Box to see if it had been looted. “Tara! Anya!” Buffy called, running up to them. They ducked back behind the corner of a store, mindful of the battle raging, but not noticing the ghostly form in front of them.
 
Tara gasped when she saw Spike. “He’s outnumbered!” Tara whispered to Anya. “We should give him a hand.”
 
“No way,” said Anya. “I’m not going up against that bunch.”
 
Tara started muttering a spell under her breath, “Impediare.” Several of the demons suddenly tripped over their own feet and went down. Spike took advantage of the situation immediately, snapping one of their necks and stomping another one in the face. Tara muttered another spell and a ball of energy burst between two demons, knocking them to the ground. Spike had gotten a hold of a piece of pipe that one of the demons had dropped. He was using it to crack skulls and regain the upper hand. Tara sent out another spell to trip up more demons. Anya, hiding behind Tara, heard someone call her name. Turning, she saw Dawn hiding behind a dumpster. “Dawn? Are you ok?”
 
“Yes,” whispered Dawn. “But shouldn’t we be getting out of here now?” Buffy tried again jumping up and down and waving at her sister, but to no avail. “Dawn! Why don’t you see me?” yelled Buffy in desperation.
 
Tara saw that Spike was definitely in control of the situation at this point. After sending out one more ball of energy to take out a few more demons for good measure, she turned, and motioned for Anya and Dawn to follow her. They crept carefully out of the alley and slipped down the street. The demons were too distracted by the vampire they were fighting to notice them. After rounding a corner, the girls saw that the coast was clear and took to their heels, heading back to Revello Drive. Buffy followed, noting that her Slayer speed seemed to be intact, even if her body was elsewhere.
 
Spike continued to fight, whirling, kicking, and wielding his makeshift weapons. His demon was in full control as he growled and snarled, taking out all his aggressions on the bikers. Finally the last few decided they had had enough of the fight, and hopped on their bikes. With Spike yelling, “Fucking cowards!” behind them, they sped off.
 
Spike dropped his weapons and fell to his knees, exhausted. His gameface melted away as he gasped. Fucking biker scum. He winced as he touched a bleeding head wound that he discovered. Then he suddenly remembered – Dawn. Where was Dawn? He got up, slowly, staggering a bit. “Dawn?” he yelled, looking around. “Dawn!” Panicking, he whirled, trying to see if she was around. Spike grabbed his motorcycle, kicked it into life, and sped off toward the house.
 
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The girls arrived to find that the house had been left alone, except for the mailbox, which was smashed. They went inside, grateful for the shelter of a familiar space. Dawn ran upstairs to clean up a bit. Tara and Anya paced, worried about their respective partners.
 
Buffy followed Dawn. She’s my sister! If anyone should be aware of my presence, it should be her. But although Buffy tried her hardest, the teen went about changing her clothes and fixing her hair with no awareness of Buffy’s existence. Buffy’s heart broke when Dawn went into Buffy’s old room and curled up with Mr. Gordo, weeping quietly. Oh, Dawnie. Buffy tried to stroke Dawn’s hair to comfort her, but found that as before, her hand passed right through.
 
The door slammed open then and Spike’s voice echoed through the house. “Dawn! Is she here? We got separated!”
 
“I’m here, Spike,” Dawn answered before Tara and Anya could respond. She wiped her eyes and started down the stairs. Buffy followed her, not knowing what else to do.
 
Spike was relieved and furious. “Thank God,” he said. “You scared me half to death. Well, more to death. I could kill you…” His tirade trailed off and his eyes got wider and wider.
 
There on the stairs, behind Dawn, was Buffy. Her blonde hair was loose and flowing down her shoulders, her green eyes fixed worriedly on her sister. She was dressed as they had buried her, black dress and black shoes. “Buffy…?” Spike breathed.
 
Dawn stopped, and looked at Spike quizzically. “Spike? Um, are you ok?”
 
“Buffy,” he repeated. “It’s her. Behind you.” Almost forgot how beautiful she was.
 
Finally! thought Buffy. “Spike? Can you hear me?” she called. But the vampire showed no sign of having heard her voice. He just kept staring at her in a mix of wonder and confusion.
 
Dawn looked around, but saw and heard nothing. “Spike, what’s wrong?”
 
Tara and Anya joined them in the foyer, looking back and forth between Dawn and the shocked vampire. “Spike, did you get cracked on the head too hard or something?” Anya inquired.
 
“You don’t see her?” Spike asked. He shook his head to clear it, but she was still there, right behind Dawn. “Buffy. She’s on the stairs.” His heart ached at the sight.
 
The others looked at each other, shrugging. “There’s nothing there, Spike,” said Tara gently. Clearly something was wrong with the vampire. Just then the door burst open and Xander came in, supporting an exhausted Willow. As they helped Willow to the couch, Spike looked again at the stairs. They were empty – the figure he had seen was gone. I could swear I saw her. He shook his head again. Maybe he had taken one too many shots to the head. Dawn looked hard at the vampire. “Are you sure you’re ok?”
 
“Yeah, Nibblet,” he muttered. “Must be seeing things.” You’re losing it, William.
 
Willow had been explaining that she and Xander had seen the demon gang riding toward the city limits. “Whatever happened, they seem to be scared off for now.”
 
“I think it was a combination of Spike pounding on them and Tara hexing them a few times,” Dawn put in. She described Spike and Tara’s fight against the main contingent of the demons. Buffy willed Willow and Xander to see her, to hear her shouting, but they were also unaware of her presence.
 
“Did anyone see the bot?” asked Willow.
 
“Destroyed,” said Spike shortly. “And good riddance.” Having to endure that plastic thing which looked so much like the woman he loved, but yet wasn’t her, had been the worst torture of the whole summer.
 
“But what are we going to do now?” asked Anya. “The demons are going to know there is no slayer in Sunnydale.”
 
“I doubt that lot will say much,” Spike said. “They’re not going to want to admit that they got their asses handed to them by a vampire. Demon pride and all. I expect things will die down to the usual hellmouth stuff in a day or so.”
 
“But what about patrolling?” asked Dawn. And parent-teacher conferences? And being able to sleep at night? Dawn knew the bot wasn’t Buffy. But its presence had been comforting nonetheless. Dawn fought back fresh tears of loss.
 
“I guess we’ll have to just take care of it ourselves.” Xander shrugged. “Can you join us tomorrow night?” Xander asked the vampire, who was lost in thought. ”Earth to Deadboy?”
 
Spike shook himself. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he answered. “I think I’ll head back to the crypt before the sun rises. You alright, Dawn?” He looked with concern at the brown haired girl.
 
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for keeping me safe,” she said. In truth, she wanted Spike to stay. But she knew that the witches really weren’t comfortable with him there, and she wasn’t in the mood for any more tension.
 
“Any time, Bit,” Spike replied. Then he turned and left.
 
Spike made his way back to his crypt, chain smoking the whole way. What was that? An illusion? Hallucination? DT’s? I didn’t think vamps got those. He was slightly shaken by what he saw. Must be losing it, he decided finally. If I start seeing pixies like Drusilla, I’m out of here.
 
He reached his crypt and made his way down to the lower level. Stubbing out his cigarette in his overflowing ash tray he reached for a bottle of whiskey. He looked around for a glass, then gave up and threw himself into a chair. He took several long pulls from the bottle, trying to calm his nerves. It really seemed like she was there. On the stairs. In that damn ugly dress they buried her in. He took another long swallow, and another, draining the bottle. He tossed it to the side to join a growing pile of similar bottles. Place is getting unfit to live in, he realized. Fuck it. He got up, stripped, and got into bed. He lay on his back staring at his ceiling for a while. One hundred forty-eight days, Slayer. Still miss you. He sighed and rolled over, finally falling asleep.
 
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Buffy wandered around her house for a while, trying to get someone’s attention. She yelled and jumped around, but no one could see or hear her. She concentrated as hard as she could, but to no avail. Xander and Anya went home after a while. Dawn went up to bed. Tara and Willow seemed to be living here now, which was odd. She would have thought that Giles would have assumed guardianship of Dawn, given that he was the designated responsible adult of the group. Where is Giles anyway? she wondered idly.

The witches had taken over her mother’s room. She drifted in, trying to figure out how to contact them. They were quiet as they got ready for bed, taking no notice of the perturbed ghost. After they turned out their light, Willow murmured, “Tara?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“I really thought it would work,” Willow sobbed. Tara put her arms around Willow and held her, soothing her as best she could.
 
“I know, baby,” Tara crooned. “I hoped it would work too.” They softly wept together.
 
What? thought Buffy, confused. What would work? What the hell is going on?
 
Finally, Buffy decided that this was futile. No one saw or heard her. She wandered through the front door and down the street, drifting aimlessly through the sleeping town. What do I do? I can’t just wander alone forever, can I? She noticed that the Sunnydale fire department had finally gotten the worst of the blazes under control, and the police were out in force as well. Where were you guys a few hours ago? she wondered. She tried deliberately walking through a few people. No one so much as flinched or looked around. She grew more and more depressed as the minutes passed.
 
After a while she found herself at the gates of a cemetery. Restfield. Spike’s crypt was here. He’s the only one who even looked like he might have noticed me, she thought. Might as well try him again. She glided through the door of his crypt and down to the lower level. A couple of candles still burned on his bedside table. She quickly learned two things about Spike. One was that he slept naked. The other was that he was absolutely beautiful when he slept. He lay on his back, his profile glowing in the candlelight. His skin shone like ivory in the faint light. His usually smirking mouth was peaceful in repose. The sheets had pooled around his hips, leaving his entire chest and abs exposed to her view. Wow. Never knew he looked that good. She stood watching him, momentarily distracted from her woes by the sight. She scratched her head, wondering if there was any way she could get his attention.
 
Spike was dreaming. Once more he was at the tower, watching Buffy fight Glory. He raced up the tower, weapons in hand. This time he would get there in time, kill Doc before he could cut Dawn. This time it would work. As he raced he heard Buffy call out, “Spike! Spike, I need your help! Wake up!”
 
Spike sat up, gasping. The nightmare seemed more real this time. Then he looked down at the end of his bed and scrambled backward in shock, banging his head against the headboard. Buffy was standing at the foot of his bed. She was dressed in that same black dress, just as she had appeared at her house. She was looking at him and saying something, but he couldn’t hear anything. Her lips looked like they were saying “Help me!” but he heard nothing. “Buffy?” he whispered. He got up, clutching the sheet to his waist, and slowly walked toward the figure in black. She seemed to brighten, smile a bit as he approached. But as he went to touch her she disappeared once more.
 
Spike looked all around the room in confusion. Am I going mad? It was her. I swear it was her. She was right here. He was shaken. What was going on? Did he finally just blur some line between his nightly dreams and reality? He sat back down on the bed and reached for his cigarettes, lighting one with trembling hands. I’m not mad. I’m not. She was here…
 
Buffy nearly wept in disappointment. He had been so close. He had clearly seen her – he was reaching for her and everything. Why couldn’t he hear her? Why did she keep disappearing? She didn’t feel any different, but it was clear that he couldn’t see her all the time. She stamped her incorporeal foot in utter annoyance.
 
Spike had finished his cigarette and lay back down, clearly disturbed by his vision. He lay once more with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling for a long time before rolling over and closing his eyes. Buffy drifted over and experimentally tried lying down next to him. Although she couldn’t feel anything, she at least didn’t sink through the bed. She reached out to touch him, but her hand slipped through him. She gave up and closed her eyes for a while. She might not need sleep, per se, but she needed to not deal for a while. Might as well haunt Spike, I guess. Maybe he’ll see me when he gets up. It was the only thing she could hold on to at the moment, but it was better than nothing.
 
TBC