Title: Humanitis
Author: Saber ShadowKitten

(notes in part one)

Spike woke and turned on his side to snuggle with Buffy, but his arm went around air. Opening his eyes, he frowned when he found the Slayer missing from his bed. "Buffy?"

He turned over and looked towards the bathroom. The door was open and the room empty. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he ran his hand tiredly over his features, then climbed out of bed. *She's probably downstairs eating,* he thought as he slid on a pair of jeans. He smiled to himself when he thought of why she'd be downstairs eating and quickened his step.

His steps faltered when he found the kitchen empty. "Slayer?" he called out tentatively. No answer. He turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning the immediate area, his brow knitted together. "Slayer?" he called, louder this time. He looked towards the refrigerator, thinking perhaps she went out and left him a note.

There were no notes on the refrigerator. None. Not even the ones which he'd put up there months before with Joyce's phone numbers or the first note he had received from the Slayer. The letter magnets still proclaimed that he loved Buffy, but there was no message underneath it as there had been that early morning.

Spike heard the sound of the newspaper hitting the front door. Puzzled at the missing things, he went to retrieve the paper. He opened the front door and squinted at the bright sunlight shining down on his front steps. He stepped into the light to pick up the paper and screamed as his bare skin started to burn.

Jumping backwards into the house, he looked down at his slightly smoking arms. "BUFFY!" Spike yelled, slamming the door shut. He turned on his heel and sprinted to the basement, hoping she was there. Not only did he not find her, the drawings on the wall were missing as was the one of his sire on the dart board.

He ran back up the stairs, yanking open the powder room door. No Buffy. Continuing to the second floor, he checked the second bedroom, quickly glanced in the bathroom then ran back into the master bedroom. His eyes darted over the surfaces of the room, noting the fact that there were no candles, no overnight bag, no tuxedo.

Dread settling over him, he went into the master bathroom and turned on the cold water. He splashed his face several times, then reached behind him to grab the towel of the rod. Straightening, he pressed the towel over his face, wiping downward. That's when he saw...or didn't see...his reflection in the mirror.

"No," Spike whispered, hitting the light switch. He saw everything in the bathroom, including the towel in his hands, but not himself. Dropping the towel, he touched the mirror in hopes that he was imagining things, but it was solid. Panicking, he slapped his hand over his neck, searching for the pulse that had beat there for months. It was gone.

"NO!" he yelled, slamming his palm against the mirror, shattering it. The large shards rained down onto the sink, cutting him as it bounced of the hard surface. Dashing back into the bedroom, he scooped up the portable phone and dialed. "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

"‘Lo?"

"There's something wrong," Spike said rapidly. "Buffy's not here and I don't have a bloody reflection!"

"Interesting," Oz said over the phone.

"Is that all you can say?!"

"How about who is this?"

"It's me, Spike," Spike replied.

"I don't think I know a Spike," Oz said cautiously.

"Cor, no," he said quietly as he heard the werewolf speak to someone.

"Hello?" Willow said.

"Willow?" Spike said. "Do you remember me? Please say you do."

"Um, yeah. Wh-why are you calling? Do you still want me to do the spell?" Willow asked tentatively, her voice slightly fearful. "I thought you were going to torture Drusilla into loving you again. Unless I got that wrong. Or it didn't work. Didn't it work?"

"Willow, you know I didn't go back to Brazil," Spike practically pleaded. "And Dru is dead, you sent me a bloody sympathy card!"

"N-No, I don't think so," Willow replied. "Uh, I have to go now, Spike. Bye."

The line disconnected and Spike sat there in shock. Willow and Oz, his two good friends, didn't remember him. He had no reflection, no pulse, got burned by the sun. He suddenly clamped his hand on his chest near his neck, looking for the cross necklace Buffy had given him. It was not there.

Dialing another number, he waited for the woman he thought of as his mum to pick up. "Hello?"

"Joyce, it's Spike," he said hopefully into the phone.

"Who?" Joyce asked over the line.

"You don't remember." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Spike? No, I'm so-...wait, Spike as in Drusilla's Spike?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Wh-What do you want?" Joyce asked fearfully.

"Nothing," Spike said, trying hard not to give into the tears that were forming behind his closed lids. He hung up and set the phone on the night stand. He sat there for several minutes before deciding on a course of action.

Two hours later he hit the Welcome to Sunnydale sign, backed up and ran it over again for good measure.

He pulled into the parking lot of Sunnydale High School, then slumped down in the seat. He lit up his twentieth cigarette and tried to push the horrible feeling in his heart away as he waited for the sun to set. His mind flitted over everything that he clearly remembered happening over the past months - waking up human, becoming friends with Oz, Willow and Joyce, Drusilla's death, kissing Buffy, dancing with Buffy, making love to Buffy, finding out Buffy was pregnant with his child.

Finally, the sun went down enough that he could get from the car into the school. Walking quickly, he made his way to the library, bursting through the doors to see his friends and the Watchers sitting there, but no Slayer. They stared at him, too surprised to move. "Tell me you bloody remember," he demanded without preamble.

Willow was first to react, letting out a squeak and jumping from her seat in front of the computer to Giles' office. She came out with a large cross, handing it to Giles who was frozen in the doorway. Oz stood, brandishing a pencil like a stake. Wesley looked confused.

"Spike," Giles said with menace in his voice.

Spike let his gaze go from person to person, studying them. All he saw was fear, and he could smell it, too, as well as hear the blood rushing in their veins. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, the world he'd gotten use to belonging in disappearing beneath his feet. "Please no," he said in a hoarse voice.

The door opened behind him and he heard the beautiful voice of his Slayer. "Hey guys, wha- Spike!" He suddenly found himself shoved up against the counter, stake pressed up to his chest, a furious blond glaring at him. "What are you doing back, Spike?" Buffy demanded.

The tears that had threatened to fall all day filled his eyes as he looked down at the woman he loved more than life itself. He squeezed his eyes shut, choking back a sob, then opened them as those very tears silently streamed down his cheeks.

Buffy frowned at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You don't remember, either," he stated quietly. Slowly, he brought his hand up to touch her cheek and flinched when the stake was pressed further into his chest as she jerked her head away.

"Remember what?" Buffy asked with little patience in her voice.

"Me," Spike answered.

"Actually, I've been trying to repress," she replied. "But for some reason, it doesn't help if you keep showing up."

"I can't do this," he said. "I can't bloody do this. I can't go back to the way things were before."

"Listen, blondie, will you tell me what the hell you want before Giles needs to get out the dust buster?" Buffy growled.

Tears still streaming down his face, Spike took a deep, unneeded breath and looked her right in the eyes. "I love you," he told her. "Please remember. I need you to remember. I don't want to be a bloody vampire again."

Buffy just looked at him with confusion written all over her face. "Are you on drugs?"

Not able to take it anymore, he shoved her away and ran out the library doors. He halfway down the hall when he spun and punched a locker door, denting it. Then he turned and leaned against it before he slid down as the sobs overcame him. "NO!"

"Spike?"

"NO!" Spike screamed in anguish, ignoring the Slayer who called to him.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled, shaking him hard.

Spike shot straight up, looking wildly around him, his breaths coming in short gasps. Sweat coated his body as he focused on the blond at his side. "Buffy?"

"Hey, what's wrong?" Buffy asked, concern on her face.

He grabbed her and pulled her to him in a tight hug, not caring about the awkwardness of their positions. All that mattered was that he was there, in his bedroom, with Buffy. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over.

It had only been a nightmare.