When You See Me Again

Chapter 7

A few nights later, Spike’s sleep was being bothered by horrible dreams. Some flashes of the final battle with Buffy, some of the with the more recent one with Angel. Blood poured down his face, but the black rain washed away it quickly. Charlie on his left, wielded his weapon till the last, a cry coming up from the pile he was quickly taken under by. Then it was silent.

Then there was Blue, the former god, ripping apart anything that moved into her path. Human wounds were proving to be her weakness though, and through the fog that was the scourge, he saw her fall as well.

Bright and gleaming as always, the last to go was his comrade in the battle, Angel. There had been many years, hell all but the last actually of bad feelings between the two of them, but in this they were together to the end. Minutes into the battle, they were still toe-to-toe. Then the aforementioned dragon swooped out of the sky and dropped on the redeemed soul. Just as it reached out its talons to take out the mismatched group’s leader, Spike saw a glowing bluish sphere come down from the horizon. It came at an alarming rate, passing by the evil ahead of him. Just at the last minute, Illyria was shoved out of its path, and the heat that came from within the ball enveloped Spike.

In the dream, he remembered seeing the witch, Glinda. No—Tara was her name, he had almost forgotten. She smiled kindly to him and held her hands out to him. “Come here, silly. Come with me.”

Behind her, he was his past bled from scene-to-scene. Coming to Sunnyhell, running over the welcome sign. Killing the Annoying one, taking care of Dru. Later, teaming up with the Slayer, leaving with Dru. Even later still, then there was the chip, loving the slayer, and nearly raping her. The soul. The trials to get the soul. Something he knew deep inside that he wanted for her, to be hers, but never thought he needed. Then he was crazy, in the basement of the school, and then everyone walked around him like he wasn’t sane at all, just like Dru.

Then there was that last time they had on the night before the permanent closing of the Hellmouth. She lay in his arms and slept in his bed, even if it was only just a cot, and they had held each other. The hands on fire, hell, actually the whole body burning from the inside out.

It stopped there and went back in reverse.

Tara watched as it went back and forth over and over, with a mildly amused expression on her face. “Make it all right, Spike. This is y-your history.” She left him then and he blacked out, but not before hearing her whisper something in his ear.

“Make them know.”


Spike shot straight up in bed, his chest was heaving. Sweat, when did he sweat? Reaching for his jeans that were on the floor, he pulled them on, and grabbed his shirt that was hanging on the back of the wooden chair. He turned it right side out and tugged it on. He grabbed his belt and smokes, and threw them somewhere on his body. Padding the short way down the hall, he headed for Buffy’s room. Pausing, he thought he’d better not knock, as it might wake up Joyce.

Instead he walked in. Her bed was made, no one occupied it. Looking at the calendar on her bulletin board, he saw the date and yelled in anger. Today was her 17th birthday and she would find out all about the Judge. Then she’d sleep with Mr. ‘I can’t have a happy’ and screw everything up.

Running down the stairs, he ran over the rack and grabbed the duster. He threw it on and grabbed one of the heavier blankets off the couch and tossed it on his shoulders.