Disclaimer: BTVS and all likeness shown in this story is the property of Joss Whedon. I don't own anything.

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The Girl in Question

Dumpster Chick

Prologue

To an outside observer, the acid washed, dead girl, lying in the dumpster among the rotting and discarded food behind the Bronze, was Buffy Anne Summers the Vampire Slayer. Though the girl in question shared the same long, sun kissed hair and honey skin as the bubbly blonde Slayer that always appeared in the back allies of Sunnydale, with a quip on her soft supple lips and a stake in her delicate hands, the dead girl was not Buffy. In fact if the investigators were honest about the poor mutilated thing, that looked as if she had been soaking in a bath of hydrofluoric acid for a day in a half, they would never have made the fatal call to the parents of Buffy Summers.

The Sunnydale Police Department had conducted a small investigation. Though the Department's skills in deductive-reasoning are not to be admired, the mistaken I.D. was a realistic one for their Jane Doe. After all, the investigators had found Buffy's student I.D. around the dumpsters where Jane Doe was found. Then when the ghoulish Coroner had matched the dental records of the former cheerleader to his Jane Doe; it seemed like a no brainer that the girl in question was Buffy Summers. No one in the department had given the mistaken I.D. a second thought until they notified the family.

The loud ring of the Summers' family home phone disrupted Joyce Summers' daytime soaps. Quickly muting the TV and picking up the phone she was greeted with news of her daughter's death. Joyce, graceful in her actions, had questioned the department. She believed the situation had been a huge mistake at first. However once the department explained about the dental records, Joyce had become quiet. Buffy had not been around Revello drive in some time. Horrified by the realistic possibility of her only child's death; she hung up the phone with a, "Thank you Mr. Cleves, I'll be there shortly."

Joyce sat on the sofa, staring out the window of her colonial home. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining; it wasn't too hot or cold and the only sound that could be heard was the soft chirping of the little blue bird outside. The woman who handled all things with poise and elegance, including her messy divorce, was not sure how to behave. In her daughter's line of work, it was always possible that one night her daughter would never make it home. It had been that knowledge that kept Joyce awake at night. Now that Joyce's worst fear had come to pass. She was at a loss. The strong matriarch had expected herself to feel an unstoppable rage or an all-consuming sorrow but none of that was there. Something far worse crept inside of her and took hold of her emotions. That niggling feeling deep in her subconscious pushed and scrapped forward demanding to be heard. That simple and unseemly emotion was relief. The worse thing that could possibly happen to Joyce was over. Buffy was dead.

Tear's stung Joyce's green eyes as she imagined the coming days clearly. She saw the funeral play out. Joyce would listen to her daughter's friends, Willow and Xander, pay their respects while she sobbed. Joyce could even see her daughter's Watcher Rupert Giles helping her during this time of grieving. He would stand there at the funeral acting as if he were Buffy's father. At the thought of the middle-aged man in tweed, Joyce's felt something shift inside of her. The unstoppable rage Joyce had been waiting for came flowing into her, forcing her off the sofa and onward to the Watcher's apartment.

Rupert Giles, known by his friend as just Giles, had been Buffy's Watcher for four years, until he had been fired from the Watcher's Counsel for his fatherly loved toward his young charge. Nevertheless, out of a sense of habit Giles kept playing Watcher with his slayer. He kept an account of her nightly patrols. It had been from the former Watchers notes that he had found that Buffy's nightly hunts had become considerably less harrowing. The never-ending demon population was disappearing. The Watcher in Giles wanted to question why the demons of the hellmouth were vanishing but the love for his slayer prevented him from looking any further at the situation. In Giles' mind the weakening demon population could only be a good thing for Buffy.

Only, Buffy hadn't seen the situation that way. Her slayer instinct screamed that if demons were afraid of whatever big bad was out there than it needed to be dealt with. Buffy had become more resolute in her investigation of the vanishing demons after she had ran in to a militarized group of demon hunters. The group nearly captured a friend of the slayer, Oz, during his werewolf act. The small platoon of men had drugged Oz with tranquilizer darts in order to pacify him, but before the group could disappear with Oz, Buffy single handedly disable the platoon with a few kicks and punches. Subsequently Oz left town, ending his relationship with the Slayer's team and his girlfriend Willow.

All the Slayer's investigations into the group's activities had turned up nothing. That was until a result of the group's handy work had managed to let loose a bleach blonde menace by the name of Spike. Metaphorically fangless, starving, and unsure of his next move, Spike went to the one person he knew could help, the Slayer. Reluctantly Buffy had agreed to help Spike in trade for information about the organization that held him hostage. In Giles' role as pseudo watcher, he played nursemaid to the vampire for Buffy, so they could get information out of him. It had been during the Watchers interrogation of the vampire when a violent knocking shook Giles' focus. In an attempt to play bad cop Giles hissed to his witness, "Don't move, we're not finished."

Spike rolled his eyes at the Watcher's command, responding to the request by leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on the coffee table. He grumbled under his breath before he grabbed the cup of cooling pigs blood from the table, "Where in the bloody hell am I gonna go?" Taking a sip of blood Spike grimaced at the taste that seem to remind him of rotting eggs. He clenched his jaw trying not to think of how far he had fallen from his days as the big bad and pretended the blood was something sweeter, like the Slayer.

Spike couldn't help it as memories from his false engagement with the Slayer came to the front of his mind as he sipped the rancid blood. There were times where Spike could still feel her warmth on his lap as her sweet tongue darted into his mouth bashfully while he held her lovingly. Spike growled at his own traitorous memory about his mortal enemy. The vampire inwardly cursed Willow's spell that made him and the Slayer act all love-y dove-y to each other as he broke another one of Giles' mugs.

Meanwhile Giles opened the door with an unshakable foreboding at the sight of Joyce. A heaviness filled the air as an enraged Joyce stood in front of the Watcher with a tear stained face. Before Giles could ask Joyce what the matter was, he was silenced by a stinging smack of a slap. The Watcher held his face, wincing from the blow as Joyce's voice became something low and dangerous. "She died because of you and that stupid counsel!"

Giles' nearly doubled over at the accusation as panic filled his gut. He wordlessly invited Joyce inside, suddenly filled with the desire to start drinking. Moved only by the cold rage, Joyce stepped into the two-story townhouse. Instantly she noticed the vampire sitting smugly in an arm chair, drinking blood out of a broken mug. Green eyes threaten to burn Spike alive so he dropped the smug pretense he had adopted after overhearing the news of the slayer's death.

Giles shut the door, his voice a little more than a whisper, "What happened?" The simple question made Joyce melt into a crumbled mass of tears. He guided Joyce to the sofa next to Spike's chair; before heading to the kitchen to make a call to Buffy and Willow's dorm room. No answer came and Giles felt his throat go dry. He redialed the number five times, before giving up and dialing Xander's home number. A slurred male voice answered, "Herro?"

Giles greeted the man with a curt tone, "I need to speak to Xander Harris. Is he available?" Giles' kept an eye on the living room as Joyce started to regain her composer. Before Giles' knew it, all the anger Joyce had reserved for him was redirected toward the bleach blonde who made the mistake of glancing at her.

Giles tuned out the frantic shouting, instead focusing only on the grumbling man he was dealing with. "Yoush hish boss… hold on, hish lazy ash is sleepin."

Impatiently, Giles cleaned his glasses, waiting for Xander to answer.

As the Watcher waited he had a chance to listen into Joyce's frantic yelling, "Did you do it?"

Spike looked around comically as Joyce gave a bone shriveling stare he thought only the Slayer could deliver. "Do what?" Spike quirked an eyebrow, pretending not to know what she was talking about. His baritone voice filled with sardonic mirth, "Spill blood on the carpet? Knick some dosh from ol' Rup's wallet? Oh I got it now, I ate the last of the bloody Wheat Thins? Seriously, what do you think I did again? Because if it's out of this flat, it couldn't have been me."

Joyce hissed, "Did. You. Kill. My. Baby?" Fresh tears sprung from Joyce's green eyes.

Spike bit his lip awkwardly not knowing what to say or do. Joyce always reminded Spike of his mother just a bit. Suddenly, seeing her cry, the comparison between Joyce and his own mother was firmly implanted in his mind. Guilt pecked at Spike and soon he mutters out an apology.

Only Joyce was lost in her own world, reliving the conversation at the morgue with Mr. Cleves. She had stupidly gone there before Giles' place. She needed to know if it was the truth, so she went to confirm the police's I.D. Hysterically Joyce wailed to Spike, "You did… didn't you? You killed her and then tossed her away like she was nothing." Joyce covered her face with her hands not wanting the vampire that threatened to kill her daughter so many times to see her like this.

Many things Spike dreamed of doing to Buffy Summers during their final battle but he would never just toss her away like nothing. Biting back his witty retort he shook his head and called for Giles. "Rupert!" The Watcher glared at Spike as he waited for the phone to be picked up.

Xander finally answered his phone and yawned, "Hello?"

Giles cleaned his glasses and began, "Are you with Buffy and Willow?"

Xander looked at his sofa, complete with Willow and Anya watching TV and eating popcorn but it had no Buffy. "I have Wills but no Buffster. What's going on?"

Willow turned off the TV and jumped to her feet, making her way to the phone. Buffy had not been in class all day and Willow started to wonder if she even came home last night after she wrapped up the trouble with the Gentlemen.

Giles slipped seamlessly into his Watcher mode. He reported on the facts without feeling them as he was trained to do for most of his life, "There's been some trouble with Buffy."

Xander was silent for a long time. Willow touched his shoulder, creeping beside him so she could hear the other line. Xander's voice had been small and little more than a squeak, "Is she okay?"

Giles didn't answer, "Xander… please just come over and watch Spike while I'm out."

His lack of response spoke louder than any words could.

Xander bit his tongue, "Okay... we'll be over there in ten minutes."

Giles hung up the phone with a farewell and strolled over to the sofa where Joyce was crying. Giles soften his tone, "I know this is painful. But I need—"

Joyce sprung to her feet as soon as the Watcher sat beside her. The whirling changes of Joyce's emotion slammed into Giles. She stared down at the Watcher with all the disgust she could muster, "You need!? No! You need nothing more from me. You and your counsel are the reason why she is dead." Hating Giles at that moment she retold the hellish day she had between sobs. "The police called me and… they told me they found... they found Buffy… behind the Bronze this morning and...and they, wanted me... to come down..." Joyce could see it all in her head. The rotting girl on the table, cold and lifeless, with every inch of her body covered in chemical burns that peeled away the flesh. "I could barely recognize her! There were these burns all over her, in some places... the burns were so bad you could see bone sticking out. I thought she wasn't mine at first... I was hoping she was here. But she's not because she's in the morgue and I saw her. It all fits..." The story came tumbling out of her like a rockslide taking the last of her anger with it. It rolled over the two men leaving them speechless.

During Joyce's speech Spike played the Slayer's last battle in his head. He saw Buffy fighting a faceless opponent. She would dodge every blow with a quick quip punctuated with a blow of her own. Until her opponent got the upper hand. It would only take one mistake and the reign of the Slayer was over. He desperately needed a breath, as something crawled into him. It was something Spike hadn't felt since Drusilla was attacked by that mob in Prague. He identified the familiar ache as panic. "No." Spike hissed at himself, thereby earning a confused look from the two humans that had forgotten he was there. He shook his head writing off the panic as something else like regret. Buffy and Spike would never get their final battle. Worst of all, in Spike's mind, Buffy's last memory of him would be that he was a neutered vampire living in her Watcher's flat, unable to protect himself. The idea made his heart break. "No, this can't be how it ends." He held on to the denial.

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A/N

I would love to give a thanks to my lovely new Beta Andrew'sAmy who went through this prologue. :D

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