" Hit me again, damn it!"
" I'm sorry, sir, but for your own safety I'll have to cut you off."
The bartender was a scrawny young fellow. It had only been his second day on the job and already he was faced with a "situation". He was trained to handle any kind of dilemma thrown his way, but no set of rules were going to assist him here and he knew it.
" My health is the last thing you have to worry 'bout, mate! Now if you don't bloody give me another shot, yours will be a different matter!"
This last statement had been said in such a matter that the nearby occupants of two tables had slowly begun to approach the stranger sitting at the bar.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to please leave the bar immediately," the bartender stated in a stern voice, seeing that he had some helpful hands if needed.
Getting off his stool, the stranger in the black duster thanked the tender and, brushing by the husky occupants of the tables by him, walked out of the bar.
"Who in the hell was that son of a bitch?"
"I don't know, he didn't talk much, just asked for the drinks," the young fellow answered as he collected the empty shot glasses off the table. A bright light outside the window soon caught his attention. It was a clear moon-lit night outside so the light was easily visible. It was easily visible, but visible a bit too late.
" Ooooh shit!!!"
He made a break for the back exit, but his small frame wasn't fast enough. The bartender was the only one who had a chance of escaping for not another head turned to see the light. The doors went first, then most of the front windows, followed by the tables. The actual bar got the worst of it. Old vodka bottles from around the world were scattered on the hood of Ben's old Ford Taurus. It "was" Ben's car. Now it was Spike's. As the left door slowly opened against the force of all the fallen rubble, the bleached blond vamp got out and surveyed the area. The impeding dust prevented him from getting a full visual, but he could still smell it. He smelled the rushing blood from all of his victims. He didn't intend for this to happen, all he wanted was to drink. And drink he would. From all the heartless bodies that prevented him to drink in peace. As he approached the young bartender who was crushed by the rubble Spike smirked, showing his amusement. He was alive, barely.
" Stupid fool. Couldn't have given a guy another one. Had to follow the rules, didn't ya mate?" Spike was looking the guy straight in the face, or whatever was left of it. " Too bad. It was a jolly old place. Could've gotten used to it." He left it at that.
Spike wasn't a killer. At least not for the moment. Someone probably saw something by now and had already called the police. Spike wasn't going to stick around to find out. The bar was near the outskirts of town, by morning he wouldn't be.
********
The grass was still wet. Dawn looked down at her grass-smothered feet. She looked at her blue sandals. She knew that it had stormed the night before, but they looked cool and she didn't have anyone to tell her otherwise. If anyone would protest anything Dawn did, she'd still end up doing it. Dawn wasn't the same anymore. She wasn't the precious key anymore. She had taken her sister's advice right before she died. She would live. She would live life to its fullest and she would love it. She wasn't loving it right now though. As she slowly approached the crypt door, she knew what was about to happen. Nothing. The same nothing that had happened the twelve previous times she tried knocking on the rusted door. He wasn't going to be there. He hadn't been there ever since that night. ** Spike, where are you? I need you....please,** Dawn pleaded in her mind. She had some flowers with her. They were beautiful. Various sizes and colors, which she had spent numerous days looking for. They were for him. As were the others that were now laying by the front of his door.
Dawn had forgiven Spike that night. She had come up to his near lifeless body after the fight and she had hugged him. She told him that she knew it wasn't his fault and then fell into his arms weeping. They wept together. They left the construction site together that night with her in his arms, clinging to him as if he was her greatest friend. And to her, he was. They made the long journey back to the Summers' home. There they wept and talked and wept some more. Arrangements had to be made, but not that night. That night all anyone could do was cry. Dawn would fall asleep in his arms that night. His soft hand stroked through her long beautiful hair as she rested her head on his chest. She never noticed him go. No one had. He disappeared into the night. He left no insight into where he was heading and why he'd gone, but did leave a letter on the dining room table. It was addressed to Dawn and consisted of only a few words, but his message was clear:
Dear Dawn,
When you need me, I'll be there.
Love, Spike
No one had seen him since. It had been about a month now since Buffy died and Spike disappeared. Dawn had never lost hope, but she was slowly starting to slip. She needed Spike now yet he wasn't there. ** You promised Spike, you promised!**
As Dawn disappeared into the streets of Sunnydale, the flowers that she had brought along with her lay there, yet another time, soaking up the rain.