Grave Chapter Two

Buffy finds herself at Spike's side without remembering how she got there. Angelus' dust sticks to the bleach blonde vampire's knees, layers the floor, swirls in the air.

Buffy zeroes in on the floating dust motes in the air that catch like sparks against the torch light. Angel. Angelus. Buffy feels a confused sorrow well up inside of her. Dusted, and she too far away to make out the expression on his face when he disintegrated.

Relief. Cleansing, dizzying relief. Buffy won't have the image of her lover's face exploding into a trillion particles at the end of her stake burned into her mind's eye for the rest of her life.

Anger. Childish, pigheaded fury. Angelus comes into her life, kills people she cares about—kills Angel, shreds Buffy's heart and innocence. Never before has a demon been more clearly marked as Buffy's kill. And Spike stole that from her. Buffy raises her stake hand, still wielding the sword. She should cut off the bastard's head, like he cut off Angelus', she should—

Grief. It overpowers the first two emotions, blanketing over her. Like the rain, it extinguishes Buffy's inner fire in fits and starts, leaving only a simmering ash behind. Buffy can taste it on her tongue.

Buffy told herself again and again that Angel was gone forever. But while Angelus tortured Buffy—her friends, her family-a teensy part of her still hoped even as she hated. Hoped for Angel's return.

And now there's nothing left of the man she loved or the monster that overtook him.

Spike collapses all the way to the ground and rolls to his back.

Slayer and vampire stare numbly at each other.

Buffy can feel the horrible mask her face has twisted into. She waits for Spike to rise.

He doesn't. Palms up, Spike opens his arms and drops them to his sides.

Buffy's instincts scream, there, target, heart, strike, even as her chest clenches at the sight of his supplication.

Spike chokes on a whisper, "Just do it. Just fucking do it, Slayer."

Giving up. Spike is giving up. The wrongness of it creeps into Buffy's limbs, freezing them. This isn't what she expected.

The others have caught up by now. Their voices rise and fall in waves behind Buffy and Spike. They don't matter. Their words are meaningless.

Spike's face twists, "What are you waiting for? Do it! Kill me!" His voice ends on an echoing shout.

"Why." Buffy whispers. Spike laughs hysterically.

"Why, the Slayer asks the vampire at her mercy. I'll tell you why. Because that fucker was right. I've got nothing left, so just do it, alright? No other way I've ever wanted to go out anyway." His is hoarse. And now, coaxing. "It'd be an honor. You're a damn good Slayer and that's the best death out there, so just do it. Do it, do it, do it."

"…see? What if he was right about the humanity? Look at him…" Willow and Giles, deep in discussion and Xander's anxious voice punctuating intermittently.

Buffy can barely hear them over the rushing in her ears, but she hears enough.

"Was…" Angelus' name sticks in her throat. "Was he right about you being turned wrong? Do you still have humanity, Spike?"

Spike stares at her in disbelief, then raises up to his elbows. "Fuck you! You gonna start in on that, too? Poor Spike, can't be a monster, can't be a man!" Spike's voice pitches up high in desperate sarcasm. Buffy slowly lowers her sword. Spike shakes his head, sitting up fully. "What, am I too pathetic to slay now, is that it?" He gets his feet under him, seemingly unaware of the tears running down his face. "What's it gonna take for you to do your bloody job!"

Spike's wild and desperate eyes focus on Buffy's friends behind her. "You want to slay a monster, not a broken sap? Fine, I get it." He vamps and makes to rush past her.

Buffy clotheslines him and viciously kicks him in the temple as he drops to the ground.

It's an instant knockout.

They toss Spike in the back of Oz's van and cover him with his leather duster. Giles insists on bringing Drusilla's corpse along for study, as she is the only vampire ever known to unequivocally die without dusting.

Acathla, Buffy smashes into rubble.

Xander makes an anonymous call to the fire department from the payphone across the street.

The last thing they do is light the old factory on fire before jumping in the van, tires squealing away.

Buffy presses her face against the grimy van window and watches the factory, Acathla, and Angel's dust go up in smoke.

The sun lifts its face above the black horizon.

Buffy secures the manacles around Spike's wrists, binding his hands together. There's no attaching chain for the wall which leaves the unconscious master vampire worryingly free to range about the cage.

"I've been meaning to get wall attachments, at least for Oz' monthly stints in here." Giles mutters agitatedly as they arrange Spike to his liking and lock him inside the rare books cage in Sunnydale High's library.

The library is still trashed from the earlier confrontation. Crime scene tape crosses the entrance and Kendra's chalk outline is still drawn on the floor. With the broken overturned furniture and scattered belongings littering the once spotless room, it looks like a small bomb detonated with the library as the epicenter.

Drusilla's body lays eerily across one of the long study tables where Buffy has shared lunches, jokes, and serious research sessions with her friends. Oz begins quietly cleaning up in the background, starting with the chalk outline.

Buffy drops into a chair and puts her head in her hands. She can't do it. Can't watch Oz erase the criminal evidence while Kendra's murderer rests just a few paces away.

"Where do you want these, Giles?" Willow's voice whispers to Buffy's right. She hears the clang of weaponry.

A sigh. "Well, I suppose I can take the majority home for the summer, at least until the investigation is over."

"And what if they investigate Mr. PCP gang member?" Xander asks, peeved.

"If I'm not mistaken, procedural clean-up is all that remains…"

Buffy stands abruptly and moves to help Willow take all the weapons out of the cage. No sense in letting Spike get his hands on any of them, after all. Even though in their fights Spike hadn't really used weapons, he'd shown some serious skill and adaptability with them in his battle against—

Buffy's whole being freezes up and shies from even thinking about him. It's too raw, too soon.

Too late.

Buffy's eyes burn like she's going to cry, but she remains stoic.

"Blast, the last thing we need is an investigator coming across Drusilla. I suppose we ought to move her to my flat in the meantime. Dear Lord." Giles paces.

"You are the one who wants to get all weird science on her, Giles." Willow points out.

"W-well, yes, but—"

"Okay, but still. Are we ever going to talk about the evil vampy prisoner we have locked up in our library? 'Cuz I think this should be a higher item on the agenda than it's been so far." Xander looks exasperated.

Willow drops the last of the weapons into the large travel trunk Giles had pulled out of his office. She turns to face the group, resolve face on. "I just think we should double check, you know. Drusilla is, I m-mean she was, crazy. What if she messed up when she made Spike into a vampire? I don't want to kill someone who might still have their humanity. If we did that, then what would be the difference between us and other monsters?" Willow looks nervously over to Oz.

Oz, her werewolf-y boyfriend.

Buffy feels a stress headache coming on. All she wants to do is lay down in her bed and cry and refuse to resurface for days and days.

Or lay down in any bed, really, since hers is no longer an option.

Giles peers at Buffy over his glasses. "Spike will keep for now. In the meantime, we could all do with some rest."

"I second that." Oz says from where he's dumped the last of the broken items in the trash bin.

"Maybe Cordy can give us a ride home," Xander capitulates. "I for one, no offense Oz, have no desire to share a seat with Crayzilla over there again. We really oughta call Cordy to let her know it's all over, anyway." Oz just shrugs.

Buffy turns her back to the others and spends an unnecessary amount of time restacking books on the check-out desk.

Giles rubs his forehead. "It'll be a tight squeeze with the weapons chest, but I can drive the rest of you home tonight. Er, this morning. Let Cordelia be, Xander."

"I won't need a ride home," Buffy says without turning around. "Someone needs to keep an eye on Spike."

She feels a heavy silence behind her.

"Well…if you're sure…" Giles says, sounding a little concerned.

"Positive." Buffy says, maybe too perkily as she spins to face her Watcher.

She really doesn't want to explain the whole kicked-out-of-home thing tonight. It's not like she's never pulled an all-nighter here in the library before, especially with Oz on moon-nights. The gang even has pretty decent overnight supplies set up just for cage duty. It wouldn't be so bad.

And then, if she cries, the only one around is an unconscious vampire, not an inquisitive Watcher or a clueless mom. Major plus.

"Alright then. It is a good idea. I just worry what will happen if anyone from the police station or school finds you here, particularly since you've been expelled."

"If I hear anyone, I'll hide. And I'll make sure Spike's hidden, too."

Giles nods and returns his attention to Oz. "And you're positive you don't mind transporting er, Drusilla for our purposes?"

Oz shrugs. "Risk of driving a van. Dead body jokes gotta come from somewhere."

"Right."

Before Buffy knows it, everyone is packing up and filing out to go home. She helps carry the weapons chest to Giles' tiny car and says goodbye to her Watcher and Xander. Willow wraps her in a sudden tight hug before climbing into the car as well. Buffy waves them off, then trudges over to Oz's van. The musician has arranged Drusilla, wrapped in a tarp, in the back of his van.

They stare at the body silently.

"Wonder what Giles will do with her once he's done studying her." Oz remarks off-handedly.

"Dust her, I guess." Buffy says, feeling weird. At one point, she'd been jealous of this woman who'd captured Angel's attention. More recently, she'd been repulsed by her. Angelus' comment about Buffy being Drusilla's replacement still turns her stomach. If Spike hadn't put Angelus down, if Buffy couldn't have brought herself to strike the killing blow, would Angelus have eventually succeeded in taking Buffy to Drusilla's level? It doesn't bear thinking about.

Unexpected pity runs through her. Drusilla let herself be killed for a guy who didn't care about her at all. Angel mentioned how badly he'd ruined Drusilla, but seeing them interact was beyond what Buffy's imagination could've ever conjured up, and that's saying a lot. It was sad, in a way.

Still, the crazy vampire killed Kendra.

Buffy wants Drusilla out of her sight, like, yesterday.

Oz isn't the kind of person to be bothered by long silences, and he continues the conversation easily.

"I just feel odd about just dusting her when she's already dead. And when that Spike guy obviously cares about her so much. If I were him, I'd want to see her…I don't know if 'put to rest' is the right phrase, but yeah. I'd want to be present for it, at least."

"I guess we could bury her." Buffy says.

"Hm. I'll mention it to Giles."

Soon after, Buffy is waving Oz off, too.

The early morning sun has risen enough to light the street. People are getting up, driving places in their cars. Birds are chirping. The air is refreshing, spring-y.

Buffy lets herself back into the dark, quiet school she can no longer attend and enters the library where her sister slayer died.

Buffy pulls out some sleep comforts like a pillow and blanket from Giles' office. She double-checks Spike is still out before she beds down behind the circulation desk.

Sleep does not come easily, and when it does take her, her dreams are full of Angel.

Buffy is barefoot on a beach. The sun is shining and ocean waves lap at her feet. Angel stands close behind her.

"Buffy," he whispers, familiar and beloved. Buffy turns in his embrace. Angel looks so different under the sun. Bright, exposed.

"I'll always love you, Buffy. Even in death. Even in hell."

She traces his ponderous features with a trembling hand. "No, Angel. Not always."

"No, not in the daylight, like this. You're so beautiful, Buffy."

And he is so handsome. He's everything Buffy has longed for. She stands on her tiptoes, sand sinking up to trap her ankles.

Their lips meet in a chaste kiss that soon turns heated.

Buffy tears herself away, pain blooming in her chest.

Angelus stands before her, holding Buffy's still-beating heart in his hands. A fanged grin mars his features. He leans in. "Best night of my life, Buff. But really, I'm not sure if you're worth a second go—"

Buffy jackknifes up in a tangle of blanket. She shakily wipes the sweat from her brow and tries to orient herself. Where is she?

Books, ink, papers. A stool and a long curved desk.

The library.

Voices echo to Buffy from the hallway beyond the double doors. She stands quickly, kicking her pillow into Giles' office.

Buffy can't see anyone through the circular port windows in the library doors yet. She darts over to the book cage.

Spike is still unconscious. The jagged tear in his throat oozes sluggishly. His skin is translucent, but for the bruises.

Sun from the small window, high up on the side wall, creeps closer to his still form.

Buffy's certain the voices are coming this way.

"Crap," she hisses. Buffy fumbles with the key, then locks herself into the cage with Spike. Crouching behind his limp form, she drags him over to the wall opposite the window with its deadly rays of sunshine. Buffy drapes Spike's duster over him again and arranges the blanket over herself. If anyone comes into the library now, they should be hidden by the file boxes and their makeshift coverings.

Buffy settles down against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Spike.

The doors swing open. Buffy can hear the janitor's voice as he lets in a few others. Buffy remains absolutely still while the men in the main room pick up the crime scene tape and bring in replacements for the broken furniture.

Soon, just the school janitor is left, cleaning up. As the man begins vacuuming up the last of the debris, Spike stirs next to Buffy.

Why couldn't things ever just be easy?

Buffy presses her hand against Spike's mouth through his coat and catches his manacled wrists with her other hand.

The vampire, disoriented from the duster over his head or possibly his injuries, is slow to react at first. Then, he is bucking up against Buffy's restraining hands.

Spike's leg kicks out, hitting the file cabinet with a muffled bang. Crap.

Buffy straddles his stomach and squeezes her legs tight around him until she hears his ribs creak in protest. Spike stills.

The vacuum drones on, uninterrupted. Buffy doesn't move from where she is perched on top of Spike until the janitor packs up and leaves them alone in the library once more.

Buffy climbs off Spike with a grimace. He instantly reaches up and tears the coat away.

"What the fuck?" Spike rasps, painfully sitting up against the wall. Buffy thinks she might have cracked a few of his ribs.

He doesn't look like he's in any real shape to give her problems, so Buffy climbs up onto some short shelves and tests the small window. Still locked, as they leave it for when Oz rides out his wolf time in the cage.

She hops down, ignoring Spike's angry and confused muttering.

Buffy lets herself out of the cage and secures it behind her.

It's obvious when Spike realizes he's been imprisoned. With a hoarse shout, he drags over to the cage door and rattles it.

"We werewolf proofed that door," Buffy says unconcernedly. "Good luck trying to break out."

"Why the hell am I in here to begin with?" Spike asks her. Buffy walks over to the double doors to peer down the hallway. All clear. She needs to block the window from the other side so Spike doesn't burn up. Better take something with her.

Spike watches Buffy root around for a while.

"Slayer!"

She ignores him. Buffy discovers an old wooden Sunnydale pride sign stashed in behind some potted plants. She drags it out and prepares to leave the library.

"Slayer! Answer me! What the hell is going on here? Why the fuck are we in a library?"

Buffy leaves Spike, still angrily shouting at her, to take the old sign outside.

Feeling ridiculously criminal, Buffy checks out her surroundings for any authority figures before carrying the sign over to the book cage window. It's located on an out-of-the-way side of the school where hopefully no one would see it and think to move it.

Buffy leans the sign flush up against the window. Cars whoosh by off to her left. Buffy squints through the sunlight to the street. School is out for summer, but the road isn't that far away. To Buffy's right, the practice football field stretches emptily beyond the corner of the school building.

It's weird being here in the summer. Weirder, since she's been expelled and isn't supposed to be on school grounds anymore.

The beginnings of an idea take root in Buffy's mind.

She can't go home. Mom made that clear. And while she's been kicked out of school, who really would know if she holed up here over summer break? That would give her plenty of time to recover from Angel's death and plan her next move.

Well, Giles might have something to say about it, but Buffy is beyond caring.

Once the new Slayer is called, Buffy's quitting. Slaying has brought her nothing but grief. Giles will probably not push for patrol for a while, but when he does, she'll suggest the new Slayer come to Sunnydale to help Buffy.

That's when Buffy will tell Giles. Bad enough in Hemery when slaying ruined her social life and probably her parents' marriage, then got her Watcher killed. Now, Buffy being the Slayer has led to even more personal tragedy. Jenny, Kendra, Angel. The unknown citizens Angelus and his minions killed. Her friends and family terrorized. None of that would have happened if she hadn't been the Slayer. Angel wouldn't have ever tracked her down, she wouldn't be solely responsible for Angelus.

Buffy can't just be a regular girl whose boyfriend went off the rails. She's also the warrior who let her people down by allowing evil into their midst. Too much, trying to handle both. She can't be a regular girl, but she can't be the Slayer either.

She needs time.