Thursday, January 20^th, 2005 – early morning hours:

Buffy lay awake, curled into a small ball on the bed with Riley for what seemed hours. She tried desperately to still her racing mind so she could sleep … if she could sleep maybe she could find Spike, maybe he had found some answers that she hadn’t, but sleep was elusive.  Buffy rolled out of the bed silently and crept out of the room, closing the heavy door as quietly as she could.  If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well do something.

Buffy walked back down the large staircase and finally found the room that was Giles’ office. She closed the door behind her and clicked on the lamp on the desk. He used to have old Watcher’s diaries; she and Willow had taken one once when they were in high school – it talked about Angelus and William the Bloody, Dru and Darla.  She hoped he still had it, that it had made it out of Sunnydale, maybe it could shed some light on where Spike was.

Research wasn’t Buffy’s forte – she’d much rather be hitting something other than books, but apparently no one else was going to help her, she’d just have to try and figure this out herself.  After looking through nearly a whole bookcase of musty Watcher’s diaries, she finally found the one she was looking for.

“Angelus, the one with the angelic face…” Buffy read the first line aloud and then began silently skimming through the manuscript. She found mention of Drusilla, driven insane before being turned by Angelus in 1860 on the day of her confirmation as a nun at the Sisters of Mercy Convent…  Buffy kept reading but there was nothing about Spike or William the Bloody.  Dru sired two vampires, both men, but neither was named ‘William’.  Both were later dusted by Slayers – the first by one in China during the Boxer Rebellion, the second by Nikki Wood in New York in the ‘70s.  The diary reported that it appeared Dru had given up trying to find a permanent partner and simply surrounded herself with minions after her last ‘playmate’ was dusted...

Buffy slammed the book shut in frustration. She folded her arms on the desk and laid her head down on them as she tried to think.  Maybe she was going about this all wrong. Maybe it didn’t matter why Spike wasn’t in this dimension, maybe the thing to do was find the portal back to their dimension and not worry about anything else. But what if this was their dimension – somehow changed, going back as far as 1880? Her mind kept fighting itself, theories and questions abounded, but there were no real answers.

Buffy’s eyes closed as her weary mind tried to work through the puzzle, soon sleep overtook her …

Buffy was back in the tropical paradise she and Spike had been in before she’d awoken to a crazy, Spike-less world.  She walked along the path they had walked, hoping to find her husband here, but all she saw were butterflies…lots and lots of butterflies.  Buffy stopped near the dusty pink rose bush and saw the same blue butterfly that had landed on her shoulder earlier. It fluttered down on her hand as she pulled the rose to her nose to inhale its sweet fragrance.

The butterfly didn’t fly away when she moved her hand; it seemed content to rest there as she gazed at the incredible beauty of its blue wings and body.

The way the colors blended… the light blue bleeding into dark blue then to black reminded her so much of Spike’s eyes, she felt like she could actually feel him next to her.  It was the same feeling she got in her heart, in her soul, when he was near – that feeling of her soul being completed.

What had Spike said? Butterflies are the souls of those who have passed as they wait to pass through purgatory … waiting to get into heaven – or not.

“Oh my God…” Buffy murmured, watching the blue butterfly as it sat on her hand and slowly opened and closed its wings, warming itself in the midday sun.  Suddenly, the butterfly took off … it circled Buffy twice then flew out over the lake. Buffy could physically feel her soul becoming emptier … like someone was draining energy out of the battery that was her soul. The further the butterfly flew, the more her heart and soul cried out for it to come back.

“Spike! God, Spike!” Buffy screamed after it. She took off running down the hill, through the flowers and bushes, over rocks and ledges, towards the lake, but she couldn’t catch it. Buffy splashed into the water, still trying to follow the blue butterfly, but it was gone – she couldn’t even see it anymore.

“NO! Spike! Come back!” she screamed, falling down to her knees on the sandy bottom of the lake, slapping her hands down in the warm water and splashing it up over her head. She closed her eyes when the water rained down on her, but quickly opened them again when she felt a cold wind against her skin and sand come raining down instead of water.

Buffy jumped up and took off running…she was in the center of the red crater and she could feel the spiders under her feet as they shimmied up through the coarse sand to the surface – to her. Buffy jumped as high as she could when she neared the side, frantically searching for a hand or foothold on the steep wall. She felt one, then two spiders jump onto her back from the sand below. She screamed out as their claws dug into her flesh and she began to slide back down the wall, unable to find purchase on the sheer rock.  One of the spiders crawled down her arm and was cutting into her hand, wrist, and lower arm as she tried in vain to hold onto the wall. The other spider had wrapped two of its clawed legs around her neck and was biting down on her neck and shoulder as she tried to keep from falling backwards onto the sand with nothing but her willpower.

Suddenly, someone had ripped the spiders off her and she screamed out again with renewed pain as she was lifted up towards a ledge a couple of feet above her reach. Buffy grabbed onto anything she could, finally pulling herself up onto the ledge and safety.  She quickly turned around and looked down. At first she didn’t recognize the man below who had helped her – a brunette with shoulder length hair, but when she saw his eyes looking up towards her, she knew it was undoubtedly Spike fighting the spiders off as he tried to climb up behind her. 

“Spike!” she called to him in a panic – he was losing the battle – the spiders were nearly covering him.  Buffy leaned down as far as she could, but couldn’t reach him. She started to climb back down to help him. 

“NO!” he screamed at her. “STAY THERE!”

“SPIKE!” Buffy shrugged out of her jacket and dangled it down towards him. “GRAB IT!” she commanded and Spike stopped fighting the spiders and grabbed the jacket with both hands.  Buffy pulled with all her strength as Spike climbed up the sheer wall, using her jacket like a rope, at least a half-dozen of the vicious arachnids still clinging to his body.

When he made it up onto the ledge, Buffy began stomping and hitting and flinging the spiders off him and off the ledge as he did the same. They soon realized that killing them rather than pulling them off still alive was best; when they pulled them off still alive, the spiders would tear flesh as they held ferociously onto their prey.

When all the spiders were finally gone, Spike collapsed down, rolling onto his back on the ledge and writhing in agony. He was bleeding copiously from innumerable cuts, scratches, bites, and punctures which covered his legs, arms, and torso, front and back. Buffy pulled his coat off him, a coat she’d never seen before, and then pulled her own t-shirt off and ripped it into long lengths to use to bandage his wounds and stop the bleeding.  She could feel her own blood running down her arms, back, and chest from the wounds left when he had pulled the spiders off her, but his wounds were much worse and much more numerous. Buffy wrapped one bandage around her wrist where she had a deep gash that was bleeding profusely, then went back to tending to her husband.

“God, Spike … why aren’t they healing?” she asked him … shouldn’t the Gem of Amarra protect him from supernatural spiders? But Spike couldn’t answer her, he’d passed out.

The cold wind was whipping around them, filling the air with sand and caking their wounds with it.  Buffy was freezing, she was bleeding, and had only her bra on her upper body for protection from the elements.  In the fight with the spiders, her jacket had somehow been dropped after Spike had gotten up on the ledge, and the spiders on the floor below them were guarding it – just waiting for her to come back down for it.  Buffy tended Spike’s wounds as best she could, then slipped his torn and tattered coat on and hefted him up on her shoulder. She had to find some cover for them – she’d freeze to death out here in the open.

Buffy struggled to climb up off the ledge they were on while carrying Spike.  She would get nearly to the next ledge when loose rocks and sand under her feet would give way. Each time she tried and failed, Buffy would let out a cry of frustration before charging back up the steep wall again.

Finally, after what seemed hours, she made it to the very top of the rim of the crater with Spike, but the traveling wasn’t any easier there. Although some places were flat plateaus, most were jagged peaks made of loose rock and red sand.  There had to be a cave or at least a small indentation in the rock somewhere they could take cover in.  The top rim of the crater wasn’t very wide, perhaps ten feet, and on the other side there were more sheer cliffs that led to more sand … sand she had to assume held more hungry spiders.

Buffy struggled across the rocks, through the freezing, hurricane-force wind that whipped and swirled and threatened to push them off the top of the canyon wall, as she carried Spike and looked for some cover.  Suddenly, something hit her from above and behind, knocking her and Spike to the ground with a hard thud.  When Buffy turned and moved back to protect Spike from whatever had hit her, she gasped audibly.  It was some kind of hairy, flying creature, easily as large as she was … now on the ground just a few feet away from Spike, who was still unconscious and completely defenseless.

The creature opened its jaws and growled, baring its huge teeth at Buffy as she put herself between it and Spike. It was like a flying werewolf, now crouched on all fours just a couple of feet in front of her, ready to pounce on them and rip them to shreds with its fangs and claws.

"Dear Lord!” Buffy heard Giles exclaim and suddenly she was being shaken awake. “Buffy, what have you done? You’re bleeding!”

Buffy shook her head to clear it and looked around – she was back in Giles’ office, in his chair, the Watcher’s diary she’d been reading closed on his desk, covered in blood from the wounds on her wrist and neck. 

“NO!” she screamed. “I have to go back! Spike! I have to get back!”  Buffy’s mind raced – she had to get back to Spike … he was defenseless against that monster.

“Tranq gun!” she demanded of Giles. Giles looked at her blankly, not understanding.

“You’re bleeding…” Giles repeated, reaching for her wrist, which was still dripping blood freely. “Buffy, what have you done?”

“Where’s the fucking tranq gun?” she demanded, looking around the office in a panic. She finally saw a glass-fronted weapons case in one corner and ran to it.

Before Giles knew what she was doing, Buffy smashed the glass with her fist, grabbed up four of the darts that were loaded with tranquilizer, and stabbed all of them into her thigh with all her strength.

“Dear Lord! Buffy!” Giles exclaimed, catching her before she hit the floor, unconscious.

Buffy looked around … she was back down at the bottom of the crater again. “FUCK!” she exclaimed as she ran towards the wall in the direction she’d been when they had been attacked – towards where she’d left Spike and that creature.

She could feel the sand vibrating with spiders under her feet, which spurred her to run faster, she jumped like a long jumper when she neared the wall, fueled by fear and adrenaline, making it all the way up to the first ledge.  She could hear spiders hit and bounce off the wall below her as she started scrambling up the sheer rock face faster than she thought possible.

When she got to the top where she’d left Spike, he wasn’t there … neither was the flying werewolf.  “SPIKE!” she screamed, turning in circles and looking around, trying to see him or the monster. “SPIKE!”

Finally, she spotted them … there were two of the creatures now and they were fighting over Spike’s motionless body about two hundred yards outside the crater wall.  Buffy half-ran, half-slid down the outside face of the rim, hitting the bottom in a dead run.  She couldn’t feel any spiders under her feet, but maybe they just hadn’t found her yet. 

Buffy watched as the monsters took swipes at Spike and each other with their teeth and claws. She could hear their vicious growls even through the wind; if one would try to pull Spike away, the other would attack … luckily they were fighting each other for the prize more than they were harming Spike – so far.  There was a small (about six feet high) pile of rocks about ten yards from them.  Buffy stopped there and began hurling golf-ball sized stones at the werewolves to get their attention away from Spike and onto her. It worked.

The two creatures left Spike and began stalking slowly towards Buffy as she kept pelting them with stones.  Buffy hurriedly shrugged out of Spike’s coat, which somehow she still had on from before, laid it out and piled about thirty pounds of large rocks in the center of it.  She gathered the ends of the coat up and made a type of mace with it. She began to swing it above her head slowly as the werewolves came closer. As soon as they got within reach, Buffy swung it with all her might, catching the first werewolf in the head and completely decapitating it with one blow – sending bright red blood spurting out in all directions. 

The second werewolf jumped back and flapped its large, hairy wings, taking off and circling above her, trying to get behind her.  Buffy turned in a circle and watched it, keeping her improvised weapon swinging and at the ready.  When the beast came within reach, Buffy swung at it hard, catching it on the side and knocking it to the ground. She pounced on it quickly, bringing the full weight of the rocks down on its head and crushing its skull.

Buffy dropped her weapon and rushed over to her husband. “God, Spike…” she moaned – fresh claw and bite marks from the werewolves had joined the spiders’ scratches, stings, punctures, and bites on his torso, arms, and legs.  Buffy looked around … at least they hadn’t been attacked by spiders out here … just flying werewolves.  But the wind was nearly as strong as it was on top of the rim of the crater and just as cold, and there was still no cover to be seen.

Buffy picked Spike up and set him up against another pile of rocks a few feet away, out of the wind as much as possible. She retrieved his bloodied coat and slipped it on and then she set to work building them a shelter.  Buffy worked feverishly, un-piling the rocks to get the largest ones from the bottom of the stack, then setting them in a circle on the sand.  She continued stacking rocks atop rocks in a circle about five feet across, building a type of igloo out of them.  When she ran out of suitable rocks in one pile, she’d go to another pile and bring the rocks back, carrying two or three large stones at a time, then running back to retrieve more.  When she had the walls about four feet high, she took some smaller, smooth stones and lined the bottom, just in case the spiders found them, hopefully that would keep them out.

“Ok, c’mon, baby,” Buffy murmured to Spike as she picked him up and climbed over the wall and into the shelter.  Buffy sat Spike down and then shrugged out of his coat. She stretched it across the top of the rock igloo and tucked the corners and sleeves under some of the rocks, creating a roof.  It wasn’t the best, but it helped keep the wind out and hopefully it would keep them out of sight of the flying werewolves.

Buffy settled down on the hard stones of the floor and leaned her bare, blood-stained back against the cold wall, then pulled Spike against her, cradling him in her arms as she laid her cheek against the top of his head.  “Please be ok,” she murmured as she rocked him gently in her arms. “Please, please, Spike.”

Buffy took Spike’s left hand in hers and looked at it, turning his palm over and back again. The sunburst scar from the amulet – the one that matched hers, wasn’t there.  His ring finger bore a wedding band, but it was silver – not the gold one she’d given him.  Buffy sat him back against the wall and unbuttoned the next button of his tattered and torn shirt … the small scar where the Gem of Amarra had been embedded against his heart wasn’t there; she studied his face – the scar on his brow was missing, too.

Buffy sat back and pulled him back in her arms. “God, Spike, what’s going on?” she whispered to him, but she was afraid that she was starting to figure it out…

**~**