Ever since Joyce got sick, the days have been getting stranger and as usual, everyone has been keeping you out of the loop of things.

Of course, Spike ended up finding himself strung along as usual, although he wasn’t completely against it—the chip in his head put a hinder on things, so he got a kick out of fighting demons.

Granted, he enjoyed your company but he could tell something was up.

Every time you entered a room, they’d mutter before changing the topic of conversation. It seemed like they were walking on eggshells around you, trying to assure you that everything was fine when in truth, it wasn’t.

A few weeks ago, Buffy went back to where she found that glowing orb—the Dagon Sphere—which led to her saving a monk from the clutches of Glory who used his dying breath to reveal that you’re the key Glory is looking for.

You, energy made to open portals to alternate dimensions, molded in human form and sent to Buffy to be preserved from harm thus meaning everything about your life was forged to fit within the memories of Buffy, her friends and everyone else around her.

Spike could tell you’ve been getting antsy these days and when you came to him about needing something from the Magic Shop at a late hour, he felt inclined to agree and help you.

That night, he picked the lock of the Magic Shop and followed your lead to some notebook Giles had hidden behind the counter. Eventually, sitting down next to you on the floor by the file cabinets, a few candles were lit for light.

He was getting a bit bored as you went on and on through the notebook but nonetheless, he answered any questions you asked. To him, it looked like you were getting closer to what you came here for.

The second you went quiet is when he took the notebook from your hands to read the rest.

“They had to be certain the Slayer would protect it with her life, so they sent the key to her in human form. The form of a sister.” Spike finished reading off of the notes Giles wrote. “Huh, I guess that’s you.” He placed the book back down on the table.

Spike couldn’t imagine how you were feeling but he had a pretty good grasp of it. To find out all twenty years of your life were fabricated would drive him mad.