Out of Sight

By: PhoenixJustice

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other things that are not me. I only own this story and make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, future sexual content, etc.

Pairing: eventual Spike/Buffy Summers, Willow/Tara, Xander/Anya, mentions of past Angelus/William, etc.

Setting: During No Place Like Home. Spoilers up season 10 of BTVS, season 5 of Angel, and Angel and Faith.

Summary: Given the gift of life again, Buffy goes back to make things right-but things don't always go the way you expect them to.

A/N: Italics for thoughts and flashbacks. Bold for dreams.

Part One of the Out of 'verse

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Chapter One

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It's a litany of curses that fly from his mouth as he heads back into Restfield, cursing the Slayer -under his non-breath for all its worth. He felt disgusted with himself, mooning at her window like a love sick puppy. Just because he was feeling these sorts of new...things...didn't mean that he needed to act like an utter prat. He had done his damnedest to not make the same mistakes that William did.

He was Spike. He was different. He was a vampire. And if he still was a bit of a romanticist? Well, that was another beast entirely, but to act like a sodding fool was not on the cards this time. Feelings or no feelings. And he'd damn sure not let the Slayer so easily wrap him around her dainty little finge-

He stops, frowning. The Slayer was kneeling on the hard ground, clutching her arm.

"What? Can't get enough of Kick the Spike tonight?" He growls. Her head jerks up and she looks up at him with wide, almost shocked, eyes. Why? "I'd think you'd-" He pauses, brows furrowing.

It had been literal minutes since he seen her. Not enough for her to run back to her place and change her things. He had-to his disgust-stayed close enough to see her running from her place, had watched her take off in the other direction. And he had come straight back to Restfield from there. There was no way she could have changed in that time and gotten here (before him even.)

She stands on obviously shaky legs and takes a step towards him. Her eyes widen again as she starts to fall and he grabs her without thinking, anger briefly leaving as he steadies her. She looks at him with eyes he cannot read, an emotion there he cannot begin to fathom.

She licks her lips. "Help me. Please."

And she falls unconscious.

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The first thing she registers is pain. The ground is hard and she winces, moving weakly to a kneeling position. The next thing she registers is where she is and she swallows, recognizing the Restfield cemetery at once. After that, she registers her hands, her body, recognizing her own body and strength. It had been years of exile for her until this moment, forced into an unfamiliar body through evil magicks and forced to be alone, unable to contact her family or allies. And then forced to try and fight a great evil with no Slayer strength or resources available to her. It had nearly killed her.

She clutches her arm, mind still reeling from things only moments before, different arm that had been savaged. She hadn't been merely lucky she had survived; if not for the Powers' intervention, she would have been dead. She had managed to kill the Evil-barely, miraculously, and had laid there on the ground near it, bleeding almost as much as it, and looks up to see Whistler looking down at her.

"How?" She asks weakly.

He looks at her bemusedly.

"I thought that was obvious. The Powers do what they can to set right the balances. And I'm the balance keeper." Whistler says. He pushes his hat firmer on his head. "You did a good deed, Summers."

"Oh, now they recognize that, do they?" She says, laughing for a moment before coughing, pain starting to overtake her. To be called by her actual name, even her last one, after so many years alone, was something like a relief to her.

"They're all about fixing the balances, see. And everything happening how it did-left a big gap. You're meant for a lot of things, Slayer. Things that can't be done without you being back in your own world."

"So you're going to send me back to-ahh-home?" She asks, clutching her side now. Her vision was starting to get a bit hazy and she blinks to try and see Whistler better.

"That's up to you, actually." He says, taking his hat off his head and holding it in his hands now. "What you've done up to now, it's given you a lot of...boons, if you want to call them that. One of them is that you can choose where to go to. Anywhere but the place you had been, with your friends. Things were...almost irrevocably damaged there. You could go back, but you wouldn't be able to affect the change that's needed. They want balances to be restored."

Her home had been one she had longed to come back to, of course, after being away for so long. But faced with the cold truth, it was also easy to say that it wasn't an easy world for her anymore; she had seen so many losses at this point. Had lost so many she had cared about. Had only managed to go on because she had to be a good sister to Dawn.

Balances? They wanted to help keep the balance? Well, her mind instantly moves to a point where she knows the Powers would approve of.

"Glory." She gasps out, pain doubling now, her vision growing starting to grow darker around the edges. "The time when I fought Glory. That's the best sort of balance fixing, right? If I don't die then, to release Evil when I get resurrected?"

"Good choice, Slayer. That and one of your other Boons will be there with you. Good luck."

She can just make out a fuzzy smile.

And then everything goes black.

And then she found herself here now, back in Sunnydale. She had to assume that she had been sent back to the right time. The Powers might get the smaller details wrong on occasion, but the big ones? The ones that mattered? When they actually Intervened, then yeah, they did right. So she was back during the time with Glory. The only real question was: when?

"What? Can't get enough of Kick the Spike tonight?"

Her head jerks up at the voice, a voice she'd recognize immediately no matter how hurt or no matter the situation, eyes widening. She holds back a swallow with great difficulty.

Spike.

She instantly wants to embrace him, but she-couldn't. Not yet. Not until she knew.

"I'd think you'd-" He pauses, brows furrowing as he looks at her, looking as if trying to figure something out.

She stands up carefully, feeling the shakiness in her legs but she ignores it to take a step forward towards him. A dream. It had to be. This had to be a dream right? Sure, it sounded good; get brought back by the Powers to try and do things over again, but what if this wasn't real? What if this was just a dying delusion as she lay next to the Evil she had slain?

She nearly gasps when she feels herself falling and almost does again when he catches her effortlessly, looking at her with obviously worried eyes. His touch does everything to calm her, to ground her, even as she feels her consciousness start to fade away once more. It was real. He was real. Spike was here. She could do this.

She licks her lips. "Help me. Please."

And black takes her vision once more.

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He's torn on just what to do and almost laughs when he realizes that the Slayer was finally in his arms-just not how he ever expected her to be. Did he dare take her to his crypt? It was much closer, but when she awoke and saw she was lying in his crypt? A hit to the nose would probably be the least of his worries. But-

He looks down at her now, so soft, and small, and helpless in his arms. If he had a heartbeat, it'd be beating now. He curses his weak self. Soddin' William. He picks her up carefully, not wanting to cause her any undue harm; both for her sake as well as his own. It's only a couple of minutes of a walk to his crypt and he opens it up, carefully cradling her in his arms as he pushes it open. He kicks it closed behind him and looks about, cursing.

He lays her atop one of the stone coffins as easy as he can. Her hair falls over her face and he finds himself pushing it gently over her face, moving the hair back. His jaw clenches and he straightens up. He'd have taken her down to the subbasement if he didn't think he might hurt her jostling her around as he carried her down the ladder. That and he'd certainly be staked if-when-she realized she was lying in his bedroom.

He instead grabs a pillow that was lying in his chair, easing her head onto it. At least he could make her a little comfortable. Still, he had little experience in dealing with people passing out. Sure, he had seen many a people pass out in front of him-from fright. He was the Big Bad, after all-but that would just lead to him biting and/or killing them. To take care of a passed out person was out of his purview.

He swallows now, taking the sight of her in. Her golden hair, her pouty mouth, her form. So near him, so... Fuck. How could he ever think that his feelings for her were fake or were induced somehow or were something else? He may have discovered his feelings for her in an unusual way but that didn't change the fact that there were feelings there for her to begin with.

He loved her.

He didn't know when it happened; only that he had just recently realized that fact.

He leans down, carefully runs a hand over her arm-the one she had been holding, for some reason. It didn't look injured. And if she had been bleeding, he'd have smelled it right away.

"Slayer?" He says cautiously. She could punch him in the nose if she wanted; it'd mean she'd have woken up and been fine, so that was fine with him. He swallows again. "Buffy?"

She stirs and he feels relief flooding through him. He stops his caress across her arm-no other word for it-and instead moves to shake her more roughly. Not enough to hurt her-god knew the Chip fucking hurt like nobody's business-but to seem more...Spike like seemed a weird word. But still. He couldn't exactly let on his feelings, now could he?

He pushes back down the feelings of bitterness and sees her eyes looking into his.

He pulls back a bit from her but she doesn't seem to be angry. She seems...surprised, yes, but not angry. Seems...he didn't know what else.

She swallows. "Sorry. I didn't expect that to happen again. Don't think I've ever passed out twice in one night before; gotta be a record." She laughs softly and he looks at her confused.

"When did you pass out earlier?" He asks, before he can bite his tongue.

Again, she doesn't seem angry. She works to sit up and finally manages (he wanted to help her up, but he figured that was when she'd get her bearings again and get angry at him, even though he was only trying to help. She'd be sure to look for some sort of hidden meaning. Which wasn't entirely off the mark, to be fair, given his feelings for her. But she didn't know about them yet. They were still new to him after all.)

Her eyes widen like a deer in the headlights. "Um...earlier."

He almost wants to laugh at her wide eyed look. Sod it all; she looked cute.

"Earlier when?" He asks, rather patiently. He probably had a death wish; why was he pressing the matter? She surely get angry. Spit hotfire words at him and-

"Um." She says again, looking a bit nervous now. "In a different time. Like...literally a different time."

When earlier? He was pretty sure he'd have noticed if she had been out of it earlier when he had talked with her at her house. But then again, he still couldn't explain how she'd have changed so quickly either.

He must look at her with confused eyes, because she elaborates further.

"In the future."

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As soon as the words leave her mouth, she feels a mixture of trepidation and relief at once. This was all new ground to her, this time traveling back thing, so she had no way of knowing what was good to do or not. And it was Spike. How could she not, even with the question of if he had realized yet his love for her?

He looks at her like she's grown a second head.

"Maybe you hit yourself on the head before I saw you." He says, though it's more to himself, than to her.

She huffs. "I didn't hit my head!" She had fought a Evil unlike most things she had ever fought-and had somehow won. Her prize was to come back to fight a God all over again. But still, as she looks at Spike, it wasn't a bad prize at all. She softens a bit, reaching forward to touch his hand, which makes him jerk back in obvious shock.

She licks her lips. "Spike, I-I'm not from this time. The things I can tell you...some would make your head spin, some would..." She pauses. Like maybe the fact that you love me. Would that shock you?

He shakes his head. "Okay," He says, dragging the syllable out. "Let's say I believe you an' all. Why tell me this?"

She could tell he was testing her. Having the advantage of having known him now longer than he knew her, she could see it. And it made her wonder. It really happened back when...after he realized he was in love with her.

"Because-" She stops, gnawing a bit on her lip. Just how much was safe to say?

"Because you're my friend." She finally says, looking up at his face, seeing the shock in those beautiful blue eyes. And it wasn't a lie. They had been many things; enemies, destructive lovers, in love together and in a relationship (and then her, alone, after he had been taken from her-) but they had also become friends in that mix somewhere as well.

It was something she had realized later on, when dwelling on things alone. That one had to have more in common with someone than just interlocking parts that liked to interlock. She loved his wit and the tales he could spin, loved his poetry (for all that he had always called himself a bad poet), loved how he looked at her, like she was the sun. If she was the sun, he was her moon; was her ultimate and only equal. Someone who fit her missing pieces, who complimented her in every way.

Who better than him to be equal to her, who was a Slayer?

He laughs and the pain in it makes her heart hurt.

"Friends?" He scoffs. But she can see through it. Can see the vulnerability that lie there in his eyes. How she had never seen the different sides to him the first time around, until it was almost too late, was something she couldn't fathom.

"Yes. Friends." She says firmly. He looks away and she takes that time to take in her surroundings, take in him. He never aged, obviously, so she couldn't use that to try and figure out what time exactly she arrived in. Same with his clothing. It was iconic and she loved it (even when she pretended to hate it) but that still didn't tell her anything either.

"So?" She says, affecting an easy tone that she didn't quite feel. Was it too late? Was her mom...was her mother gone already? Had she lost an opportunity to give her a hug once more and tell her that she loved her? "What time is this then? I need some kind of frame of reference."

"Because of the time travel." He says in a sarcastic voice. She refrains from rolling her eyes.

"Yep!" She says, perkily. Sitting, even on the stone, was helping her to regain her balance and she could feel her strength returning already. One of the perks to the Slayer package, she figured.

He turns back to her.

"Gotta say, luv. Thinkin' I should just hand you to Sunnydale Hospital and see if they can right you. I know there's a lot of weird shit out there, I mean just look at me, vampire an' all," He says sardonically. She chuckles. He pauses at that, but pushes on. "But time travel? Come on now. The power that would take-"

"You have it in one." She replies instantly. He looks at her blankly for a minute. "Power. Powers, that is. Capital P. They brought me back."

He almost looks like he believes her-wants to believe her-but shakes his head. He gives her a hard look and she has to fight a shiver at it. Damn but he was attractive. It wasn't fair. How she had never noticed back then, now...stupid time travel conjugations. Well, she had noticed he was attractive back then, to be fair, but she had always stubbornly ignored it-even when he had proven himself to her, when he had declared his love for her.

"Not that I don't appreciate the less punching Buffy," He says, which makes her chuckle appreciatively again. "But I just-need something."

"Something to prove I'm from the future." She says.

He nods. She stops to think for a moment and one thing comes to mind easily. If he believed nothing else, then knowing this should make all the difference. She nods determinedly and gestures him forward. He leans forward and she grabs him, pulling him down, ignoring both the inward take of breath he does as she touches him as well as her own now rapidly beating heart.

She moves her mouth to his ear.

"It's good to see you, William Pratt." She whispers.

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He pulls back from her instantly, staring at her in shock and wonder. No one knew that name, the name he had hid from everyone. No one ever called him by his full name, so she'd have never known. He had destroyed all the records of William Pratt he could. And the ones he couldn't get his hand on had no way to tie to William the Bloody nor to Spike. So there was literally no way she could have known.

Unless it had come from his own mouth.

Bloody fucking hell.

She was telling the truth. She looks at him patiently and that too should have told him; his Slayer-the Slayer of this time-would never look at him like that, be patient with him like that. She'd have punched first and asked questions later. Certainly never would have stayed around in his crypt like this either.

"You believe me then?"

He looks at her-when had he looked away?-and swallows, nodding. She smiles, obviously relieved, and it hits him square in the chest, that smile. It was open and trusting. A smile of patience and affection. Of-friendship, he supposed. Friends? How had they ever become friends? He couldn't fathom it. And while it wasn't quite what he wanted with the Slayer, of course, even that was a step in the right direction.

"What else do you know then?" He finally asks, hoarsely. He tries to clear his throat. Sodding feelings.

"Your mother's name was Anne. Cecily was your first-first love." He wasn't sure what was on his face at those things. Shock didn't even begin to cover what he was feeling now. "Um, in the forties, you and Angel were on a submarine and dealt with Nazi's."

The sudden shift in things she said throws him. She must have done it on purpose; so many specific things and in different periods of his life. Meant to show that she was from the future. She had to be, for him to have told her those things. Things she wouldn't have learnt otherwise.

It's quiet and he licks his licks. She kept looking at him with that patience. He had to be the one to break it, then.

"What'd you want to know?" He asks.

Did she-did she know? About his feelings? Apparently they were friends. Had she cottoned on to his feelings, his love, for her? Was that what she was asking? Why she hadn't minded being in his crypt now with him and hadn't run straight for the Scoobies, to get their help on the subject? Surely that wasn't the case.

"What were you doing before you got to the cemetery?"

Well. That wasn't what he was expecting.

He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "You know, Slayer." He stops. "I mean, you do know. So why the questions then?"

"Because I don't know, Spike." She says honestly. "Not exactly like you mean. Do I know the events? Sure. I could tell you, if you told me what just happened to you. I could piece what time I landed in after that."

Oh. "You and me were having a conversation." Sniping back and forth was more like, but still...conversation? Sure. At her look he elaborates. "Outside your house. I was standing behind the tree. I mean. I was just walking past your place, happened to be behind your tree an' all, and you pulled me out from it and-"

Her eyes widen in recognition and she laughs. Her eyes sparkle and it's all he can do to not prostrate himself and declare his love then and there.

"Oh!" She says, still laughing. "Were you smoking a lot by the tree?"

"No!" He instantly denies. At her fond-bloody hell was it truly a fond look?-he relents. "A bit, yeah. Suppose you'd know that then, after I left?"

She nods. "Mmhmm. What was it again you said? Out. For. A. Walk...Bitch." She says, in a surprisingly credible imitation of words he had literally just said to her-or her past counterpart, his present counterpart? Ugh, time travel was a bloody fucking headache-only minutes earlier.

"Was just a...bit miffed, yeah?" He says carefully. No need to bring out Angry Slayer now, though it didn't really look like she'd get mad...

"Well I was being a bitch to you," She says, rather cheerfully. "So you were just retaliating in kind. It's okay. It's what we did. Do. Ugh. Stupid time travel."

"Well," she continues. "At least that lets me know when I showed up. So you-" She stops and her eyes widen, looking at him with an unfathomable look.

"Something the matter?" He asks, confused. He had said words to her earlier, true, but that was all. No reason for the Slayer to look like that.

She shakes her head rapidly. "No, of course not!" She says quickly, in a higher pitched tone which has him narrowing his eyes. She was lying. Why was she lying? He'd have believed her lying about them being friends, but that rang true (even while not feeling exactly right) so why was she lying about this? Something that happened after he left, maybe?

He says as much to her. "Is it about what happened after I left? Something you went through?"

Her eyes flash with something like gratefulness and she nods.

"What happened-or is happening-right now?"

"Probably not much, I'd imagine. Since I'm here right now."

He looks at her confused. "Buffy, pet, I just saw you-your past self-only minutes ago. In a different outfit. Unless the Powers That Be decided to let you come back-and changed your clothes-I'd say that you were brought back, alright. But that Buffy-my present, your past-is still here."

She looks at him shocked. "I-you don't think so. Really?" He nods. She bites her lip again, seemingly not noticing she was doing so and he fights the urge to bite down on it himself, to lick her lips, to taste her and see where these new feelings of love would take him.

She has one distinctive thing to say:

"Fuck."

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I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice