Disclaimer: Yes, I own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It made me rich. That's why I have to take out loans and work my way through college… (In case you couldn't tell, that was extreme sarcasm.) Also, "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend" is The Ramones. You should listen to it. And everything else they've done, 'cause they rock. If I was sitting next to Spike in a car, and he started singing "I Wanna Be Sedated," I totally would jump him. And not in the "punching him in the nose" way. Silly Buffy…

Rating: PG-13

Summary: After Buffy's day from hell thanks to the Geek Trio, Willow decides to "help" by making Buffy forget she ever died. And—big surprise here—this goes terribly, terribly wrong. (Less angsty alternative to season 6; goes off canon following "Life Serial.")

Spoilers: Everything up to "Life Serial" in season 6. If you haven't seen any of that and wish to before you read this, it's all on DVD. Go, rent. I command thee.

Author's Note: This is my attempt at something somewhat fluffy. I can't promise it will be angst-free because, well, that never works for me. I try to write something without angst, and it turns into a major angst-fest. It's compulsive, I swear. But I'm really going to try for a minimal on the angst with this one, so wish me luck. wink

And although this takes place afterwards and really has nothing to do with it, I just want to say that I absolutely loved the "mummy hand" part in "Life Serial." I think it's because I work in retail. I swear, that sort of stuff happens to me without time loops…

Feedback and Archiving: Feedback is my god. Send it to me so I may worship at its altar. I'm also a big fan of archiving, just please let me know where. I'm obsessive compulsive when it comes to knowing where all my fics are. Unless you're adding my story to a list of authors you want to die or something like that, I'll say yes, I just want to know first. Thanks! Email:

Shameless Website Plug: I have a website. It has more stories. Go there.

Just a Teenage Crush…

By: Addie Logan

Hey, little girl
I wanna be your boyfriend
Sweet little girl
I wanna be your boyfriend
Do you love me babe?
What do you say?
Do you love me babe?
What can I say?
Because I wanna be your boyfriend…

A little voice in her back of mind that she would later deem the "voice of reason" told Willow she shouldn't be doing this. After all, she'd had problems with these sorts of spells in the past—Buffy and Spike's "engagement" a few years prior springing to mind.

But this was different, the other part of her mind assured her. She was doing this for a good reason. It was her fault that Buffy was unhappy now, that she couldn't seem to settle back into her old life. Willow knew she really should have accounted for the shock Buffy would feel once they pulled her out of whatever hell dimension she had wound up in. After all, Angel had been nearly feral when he had come back from one. So really, Willow convinced herself, she wasn't playing around with magic too much the way Tara and Giles kept trying to tell her she was. She was merely putting the finishing touches on resurrecting Buffy—something she should've done at the very beginning.

And as for resurrecting Buffy in the first place, well, how could getting your friend out a hell dimension be a bad thing?

No, Willow decided, there was nothing wrong with what she was doing now. Nothing at all.

Which was why, of course, she was doing it alone in the Magic Box, late at night after Giles and Anya were both long gone. And why she'd told Tara that she'd gone to the campus to meet with a study group.

Yep, this was completely the right thing to do. No bad could come from it whatsoever.

Willow chanted the words of the incantation, completely unaware of the lens nestled in the eye of a skull, perched on a shelf and watching her every move…

The first thing Buffy realized when she woke up was that she was lying in a bed that was decidedly not hers.

The second was that she was not alone.

Buffy looked at the man who was watching her and screamed. He looked like definite trouble, and she knew that being alone with him could not be a good thing. He had a serious bad boy look going on with his bleached hair and all-black ensemble. And to make matters worse, he had her on a bed, in a dark, creepy-looking place.

No, this was not of the good.

"Slayer, would you please give the screaming a rest?"

The man said "please," but his tone was anything but polite. And "Slayer?" Why was he talking about that horrible band? Buffy continued to scream.

"Buffy, shut up!"

Buffy did stop then. He knew her name? How did this strange man who looked nothing like the people she chose to associate with know her name? Then it all became clear.

He'd kidnapped her. Probably been stalking her for months, the sick freak. That would also explain why she was so disoriented. He had drugged her. "You won't get away with this, you know," Buffy informed her kidnapper.

"Get away with what? Letting you lie down in my bed after you collapsed instead of leaving you on the cold, hard floor? Oh yeah, bloody evil that was."

"Don't try to act like you don't know!" Buffy said, trying to mask her fear with anger. "And if I was on the floor, it was only because you drugged me."

"Drugged you? Are you completely off your bird? I was drinking from the same bottle you were, Slayer."

There was that "Slayer" again. Was he calling her Slayer? That made even less sense than random talk about metal bands. And why was he accusing her of drinking with him? She didn't even drink! Okay, maybe that once at her friend Kimberly's slumber party when they'd broken into Kimberly's parents' liquor cabinet. But she'd never gotten drunk with a strange man. "You're lying!" Buffy yelled. "You're just a bad, evil man!"

"Well, yeah. Never denied that. You know, you're acting even loopier than you did the last time you got drunk over here."

Last time? Buffy didn't remember getting drunk this time, never mind the now-mentioned "last time." And had he just admitted to being evil? That couldn't be good. "You're crazy!" Buffy frowned, the seriousness of her situation really starting to sink in. "And you're going to hurt me, aren't you?"

He sighed—a bit overdramatically, Buffy thought. "Even if I did want to hurt you, I can't—chip, remember?"

"Chip? What chip?" Had they been eating chips while they were drinking? Buffy was even more confused.

"The chip in my head, Buffy."

He spoke slowly, like she was an idiot. Buffy didn't appreciate that one bit. He was the one who was saying crazy things about having chips in his head. Why was he treating her like the loon? "I want to go home," she whimpered.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Come on, I'll walk you."

He was just going to let her go? What kind of kidnapper was he? Maybe there'd been a ransom, and she'd slept through it. "You're not going to make me stay here?"

"Yeah, like I could. Come on Slayer, on your feet."

He took her hands to pull her up, and Buffy realized that his hands were really, really cold. She noticed the complete lack of heat in the room, and decided that must be it. Were her hands icy, too? They didn't seem to be to her, but maybe she just wasn't noticing it.

Buffy followed her possible kidnapper up a ladder into another room, just as dark as the one they'd just been in. What did this guy have against a few windows? She looked around, wondering where in the world he had gotten his decorating tips. It was like bachelor pad meets dungeon.

She walked out the door and found herself in—a graveyard? Buffy's eyes grew wide. "Why did you bring me to a graveyard?" she demanded. "What sort of sick freak are you?"

"Slayer, you feelin' all right? 'Cause, well, you sound a bit like a crazy person."

"I'm crazy? You're the one who takes young girls to graveyards! Geez, what is wrong with you, you bleached freak!" The look he got on his face made Buffy wish she'd kept her mouth shut. She had the distinct feeling that he wanted to rip her head off with his bare hands.

"Fine. That's the way you want it, go home yourself. If you pass out and get eaten by some nasty, it's not my fault."

He started to go back into what Buffy had determined was actually a crypt—what kind of psychopath lived in a crypt—and Buffy felt her lip trembling. Sure, this guy had quite possibly drugged and kidnapped her, but he was still all she had. "I…I don't know how to get home," she said, tears threatening to spill.

"Are you serious?"

Buffy nodded. "Please, just don't leave me out here all alone. I'm scared."

"Bloody hell, Slayer. I'm never drinking with you again."

Buffy ran after him, struggling to keep up as they made their way through the graveyard.

Spike watched the Slayer as she walked beside him. He'd never seen her look so confused before. The things she'd been saying tonight… Sure, she insulted him all the time, but this had seemed different. And to make things worse, she hadn't even seemed to know who he was. He hoped she'd been all right again once she sobered up.

Spike was relieved once they finally reached 1630 Revello Drive, never before so happy to get rid of Buffy. The schizophrenic routine she'd been on had been more than he wanted to deal with. "Well, here you are. Hope the hangover isn't too nasty in the morning."

Spike started off the porch when he heard Buffy tell him in a tiny voice, "This isn't my house."

Spike turned, looking at her with one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"This isn't my house. I…I don't even think this is L.A."

"It's not. It's Sunnydale."

"Sunnywhat? I don't live there. I live in L.A. Where did you take me?"

"Your house, Buffy. Just go inside. Dawn's waiting for you, I'm sure."


"Your sister…"

"Huh? I think you have me confused with another Buffy. I'm an only child."

"Uh, not since the monks decided to make you a sister out of green swirly energy," Spike replied, his tone half sarcastic, half nervous. He was beginning to suspect that Buffy's odd behavior went a bit beyond drunkenness.

"The what with the what? Look, you are totally insane, so why don't you just get away from me, and I'll find a phone to call a cab."

"Buffy, pet, you're home. Reach into your pocket."


"Reach. Into. Your. Pocket."

"I'm not stupid, you know. You don't have to…"

"Bloody hell, woman, just pull out your soddin' key!"

Buffy frowned, reaching into her pocket. Sure enough, there was a key. She didn't recognize it. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I thought you weren't stupid. Put it in the lock, and turn." Buffy did. The door opened. "See," Spike said triumphantly, "your house."

"You could've slipped that in there when I was unconscious. This could all be part of your evil plan!"

"Yes, my evil plan to bring you home. Go in the bloody house."

"No! Who knows what you have waiting for me in there!"

"Buffy, is that you?"

Buffy turned. Someone else knew her name? It was a conspiracy. She knew it.

"Nibblet, you better come out here," Spike called back. "Your sis has gone completely barmy."

Dawn came out on the porch. "Buffy, what's wrong?"

"Who are you?" Buffy asked, tired of being confused. "And why do you both know my name?"

Spike pointed at her. "See? Barmy."

"I'm not Barney!" Buffy insisted, starting to cry.

"I said barmy, not Barney."

"Well, I'm not that either!"

"Did some demon conk her on the head?" Dawn asked.

"Demon? You're talking about demons? What is wrong with you people? I want to go home!"

"Buffy, you are home," Dawn said, placing a hand nervously on her sister's shoulder. "Just come inside and sit down, okay?"

Buffy looked at the girl the weird blond man had called "Dawn." She didn't look any older than Buffy was. She couldn't hurt her, could she? But what if the blond guy had brainwashed Dawn? What if he went around kidnapping fifteen year olds and making them do his bidding? Buffy crossed her arms in front of her. She would not go in that house and become a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. "No."

"Bloody hell. Bit, go inside and get a picture of you with Buffy, all right?"

Dawn nodded, and disappeared back into the house. She came back a few moments later, showing Buffy a picture of the two of them, along with their mother. "See?"

"You know my mom?"

Buffy swore she saw a flash of pain in Dawn's eyes. "Yeah. We're sisters, Buffy. And look, there's you."

"That can't be me. She's too old."

Spike and Dawn shared a look over the top of Buffy's head. "Buffy, how old are you?" Dawn asked.


"Well, that explains…well, not a lot since it actually opens up a whole new set of questions," Spike said. He looked into Buffy's eyes. "Pet, you're twenty. You live in Sunnydale, California, with your sister, Dawn. I know you're confused right now, kitten, but just go inside with us, and we'll try to make everything better, okay?"

Buffy sniffled. Even if they were trying to brainwash her, she wasn't sure she cared anymore. She was tired, and she just wanted to sit down somewhere. And lack of fashion not withstanding, the blond guy was incredibly hot. Maybe there would be worse things than being his prisoner. Dawn looked happy enough… "Okay."

"That's my girl," Spike told her with a smile. "Come on."

Buffy nodded and followed Spike and Dawn into the house.

Willow walked back home, trying to look inconspicuous. She hadn't just done a spell, no sir. Nope, everything was just peachy.

Besides, when everything was okay again, and Buffy forgot all about that hell dimension she'd been in, everyone would see she'd done the right thing.

"Halt, puny human!"

Willow stopped, finding herself faced with a large, red demon. He had a long, black beard, big horns, and thin, white wings. He placed his hands on his hips, giving her a menacing look.

"I'll…I'll have you know I'm a very powerful witch," Willow said in what she hoped was her most intimidating voice.

"Ha! I scoff in the face of witches!"

"Well, you won't be scoffing, mister, when I…" Willow never got to finish her sentence. Suddenly, she was coughing, a thick smog surrounding her. She felt something reach into her pocket, but it was gone before she could smack it away.

When the smoke finally cleared, the demon was gone. Willow reached into her pocket, frantic. It was, as she had feared—empty.

"And this could be bad…"

"Did you get it?"

Jonathan gave Warren a look as he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself. "Yes, I got it. And I don't know why it's so damn important."

"Well, neither do I," Warren replied. "But the witch did something to it, which means it has to be important to the Slayer. Therefore, if we have it, we have power over the Slayer."

"That's lame."

"I don't think it's lame," Andrew chimed in. "I think it's a brilliant plan."

"You would," Jonathan mumbled under his breath.

"Where is it?" Warren demanded.

"Here," Jonathan replied, thrusting a small item into Warren's outstretched hand.

Warren smiled, looking down at the small, blackened crystal. "Now if only we can figure out what it does…"

Review and let me know what you think of this one so far!

Also, I haven't given up on "Bad Medicine." I'm going to update that one soon, I promise. I just suddenly got the idea for this fic and had to start it right away. Sometimes my plot bunnies can be very, very impatient…