London - Summer 2004

Dawn woke up with the sound of her alarm, the smell of bacon, and the sensation of being hit by a pillow.

"Get up already," Buffy demanded, still brandishing her feathery weapon, "You've hit snooze six times already. I thought Spike was hard to wake but you take it to a whole other level."

Dawn groaned and opened one eye a little. "Wha? Is Giles cooking breakfast again?" she asked, groggily.

"Yup, full fry up."

Both of Dawn's eyes became wide and clear as she pushed past her sister on the way to the kitchen. Buffy shook her head a little, smiling and muttering to herself, "I don't know where she puts all that food."

"Huh?" Dawn asked from the doorway, a piece of toast now in hand. "You say something?"

"Doesn't matter. Just don't take too long getting ready, alright? We've got a lot of shops to hit for your school supplies. If they're gonna force you to wear a uniform I don't understand why we can't buy it all in one store. We're probably gonna have to go all over to track down the stuff on that list."

The sisters groaned in unison.

As they sat on the upper deck of red bus that Dawn thought only existed in stereotypical movies about the capital Buffy gently massaged her temples.

"You okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just not been sleeping well – unlike some."

"More Slayer dreams huh?"

Buffy stared at her sister before glancing around the rest of the passengers. "Could you possibly keep it down?"

"Because of the big headache or because of my big mouth?"

Buffy's steely gaze returned to her sister as she tried to figure out whether she seriously expected an answer or not. Just then she felt a new pain in her skull that made all the earlier ones seem like child's play.

"We gotta get out. I need air."

For once Dawn didn't argue, but instead helped her down the steps and out into the street where she took a seat on the curb and placed her head between her knees.

Again Buffy could see the vision that had followed her round since arriving in London; a picture of Spike before he was Spike - a picture that made her heart ache as much as the rest of her.

After a while she brought her head up level with Dawn, who was crouched beside her in a protective stance.

"Find me a pub," she said, "I need a drink and you need a story."

Inside the nearest pub they could find Buffy ordered a whisky - straight up - and an orange juice for Dawn; thankful that the barman didn't question her sister's legal age.

"You only drink that stuff when you're missing him," Dawn said. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

Buffy looked concerned. "You notice too much. I wish I could just shield you from everything."

"Please," said Dawn as she scanned the food menu. "Don't patronize me – oooh, the kid's special comes with a toy."

The both shared a laugh.

"Sorry, ironic distractions aside. You said you had a story?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's not a good idea after all."

"Buffy, no. I'm not letting this go. Tell me what's up with you. I wanna help."

"Fine, okay. It's just… It's just I've had this overwhelming feeling for a while now, that Spike is in danger, and I know it makes no sense because he's already been gone like – what? A year? – but maybe that's it. Maybe it's the anniversary of losing him is what's brought this on. Anyway, the feeling is particularly overwhelming here. In London I mean, and in this area in particular. I think he must have lived round here, in centuries past."

As Buffy finished her confession she noticed a chalk board above the bar announcing a poetry evening.

"This is too much. I can't take it. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. I just wanted to see his excessively huge hometown and imagine his essence around me, but it's all just too much. Essence overload for the buffster. He once told me he'd loved it here, with all the people. Said it helped him feel less alone to have everyone buzzing around him. But he was alone, in those days. He was miserable. So I thought it was worth a shot, right? I thought the masses could help blot out my misery for a bit. But I didn't bargain on the masses sounding like him; on hearing his stupidly sexy accent everywhere."

Dawn was the one to look concerned now.

"Sorry," said Buffy. "I'm rambling."

"No, it's good. Rambling is good. You can't keep it all inside. Inside is a bad place; letting things build up there can lead to anxiety and tension and explosions of confessions which are never as tidy or as helpful as willing rambling confessions and oh, god, Buffy – Spike is alive."

Buffy felt the room spin around her so much that she had to take hold of the sticky uneven table in front of her just to keep grounded. "What did you say?" she asked at last.

Dawn took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything before, but Giles thought best to keep it a secret. Andrew saw him when he visited L.A. Spike was with Angel."

A million thoughts crowded her head at once, all shouting for her attention.

Buffy waved the barman over and ordered the rest of the whiskey bottle in its entirety.

To be continued...