Spoilers: Season 5. This story takes place directly after "Crush"
Rating: PG
Content: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: They are Joss's! All Joss's! I'm just *cough* borrowing them for a bit.
Feedback: Your words are literally keeping me writing on this one. I need all the help I can get! Thanks!



Chapter Two

The man stood silently in the shade of the trees, an intent look creasing his weathered, handsome face as he carefully watched the young girl leaning against the oak at the entrance to the playground. She seemed to be so very innocent, he thought solemnly, it was truly amazing the forms evil could take.

A little boy ran by him, kicking sand upon his freshly pressed pants.

"Hail the Creator!" he cursed under his breath as he frantically tried to brush the dusty particles off, earning him an odd look from the mother of the kid. She seemed taken slightly aback at his presence in the nearly childless playground, a plucked and redrawn eyebrow raised curiously as she slowly pulled a cellular phone from her purse.

Pointedly, she opened the object and punched in three numbers, all the while, her eyes focused on him as she memorized his description.

Samson couldn't help but crack a slight smile as the 911 operator placed the mother on hold. Only in California, he thought.

The mother rolled her eyes to the heavens as she waited with an increasingly nervousness, her tanned hand tugging gracelessly on her son's wrist.

With a comforting smile, Samson reached into an interior pocket of his beige duster, his blue eyes seeming to dance as he regarded the petite woman.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, sparing a glance for the girl who he had followed to the park. She continued to be utterly oblivious to the world, Samson noted with no small amount of pleasure. His grin widened as he walked up to the mother on the phone.

"Just hold up," the woman snapped out as she gauged his intentions. "Don't you dare come a step closer."

"I'm sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if you've seen my daughter," he lied quickly, his narrow face twisting into a grimace of pain and sorrow. "She's been missing for a year now."

The woman seemed to soften at his words, her dark eyes turning to her son.

"Missing?" she repeated sadly. "Oh, man. I'm so sorry."

Samson nodded slowly, trying to shy off the guilt as he felt the woman's empathy. The end justifies the means, he reminded himself sternly. And the ends in this case, he thought as he studied the woman's features, is preserving life as we know it.

"Here, this is what she looks like..." he raised his palm to her as if his hand contained the world's most precious object.

"Nathan, go off and play now," she told her son as she hung up her phone, pausing only to stuff it in her purse. The mother bent slightly over his hand as she waited.

Samson sighed longingly as he watched the child quickly abandon his mother for the pleasure of the playground. This acting stuff, he thought in amusement, wasn't half bad.

The woman cocked her head curiously.

Slowly, he unfurled his hand, uncovering the small, feathered item in his grasp.

"A dart? What kind of joke is this?" she grumbled, taking an immediate step back.

Fun while it lasted, he thought as he slammed it into the jugular vein in the woman's neck. "One that's over."

She clawed at her throat, scratching the tender skin with sharpened nails. The woman looked at him with such an expression of anger and terror that Samson had to bite back a laugh before he drew even more attention to himself and the subject of his covert operation.

"It's okay, lady," Samson stated smoothly as he reclaimed the dart. "You were just stung by a sand bee."

"A sand bee?" she asked quietly, a glazed look coming into her eyes. "Nathan..." she managed to squeak out. The young boy barely spared a glance for his mother before he started climbing up the base of the slide.

"A sand bee. But thank you for your help, ma'am. I'm just going to be standing right over there while I wait for my daughter to get done playing. You see her?" he asked softly, pointing to a spot on the playground. "She's playing in the sand right there."

"The sand," she repeated dully, her eyes unseeing.

"You see my daughter sitting right there," he repeated firmly. "Isn't she a pretty little thing?"

"A pretty little thing," the mother seemed to agree, waving at the empty area. Her face firmed up as her awareness slowly began to return. "Yes, she's just darling. Just like my Nathan."

Samson laughed in genuine amusement. The woman was just a beacon of maternal pride even while under the influence of the drugs. "Yeah, just like your Nathan. Speaking of Nathan, why don't you spend some quality time with him? You know. Like play or something."

The woman nodded eagerly. "Actually, that's a great idea. Thanks for the help. With the bee sting and all," she smiled at him brightly. "Oh, what is your name anyway? I'm Jillian."

He extended his hand to meet hers, winking at her playfully. "Samson. Now off with you! Nathan is waiting!"

She giggled girlishly as she ran off to meet her son, shouting a dare to see who could climb to the top of the slide first.

Samson stood quietly, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the mother play with her son as if she were a child herself. So this is what I've given my life to save, he thought, feeling not a whit of regret. This is exactly what I've given my life to save.

He shook his head suddenly as he turned to look back to his quarry.

"Hail the Creator!" he gasped aloud as he noticed the girl had left during his conversation with the mother. He can't fail. Not at this. Shoving the dart back into a pocket, he ran out of the playground as he began his search for his prey.

Jillian stood aghast as she watched Samson's daughter burst into tears at the abrupt departure of her father.

"Oh, sweetheart. He'll be back. I promise you," she assured the young girl, reaching her arms out to hold the child comfortingly. The girl hugged her tightly, almost as if she were afraid to let go.

"Shhh... shhh... It's okay now. It's okay. We'll just sit here and wait for your daddy to come back. Okay?" Jillian asked, brushing the dyed red hair out of her eyes as she looked towards the playground gate.

The little girl sniffled, but her crying soon ceased.

"That's my brave little girl," she cooed softly, licking a handkerchief and wiping the child's dirty nose with it. "Very brave. Sit down and play with Nathan for a little bit, okay? Wait here... NATHAN!" she yelled at her son suddenly. "Come here and meet a new friend."

Nathan looked at the spot of sand his mother gestured to, his precocious face peering at her strangely from his throne at the top of the playground's tallest slide. "Mom, *who* are you talking to?"



Dawn kicked at the offending rock as hard as she could, her teeth grinding in annoyance as she watched the stone fly only a couple feet away.

"Dumb Buffy," she complained, digging the scuffed toe of her sneaker deep into the moist dirt. "Buffy this, Buffy that. The whole..." Dawn grumbled for a second as her mind searched for the appropriate obscenity, "bloody town seems to think she's Miss Wonderful or something. Bleh. They should try living with her."

She frowned fiercely, dabbing angrily at her eyes as she continued walking down Main Street, completely oblivious to the man doing a terrible job of following surreptitiously behind her.

"Like, hello. I only wanted to see if she was okay," Dawn complained to the cracked sidewalk. Sighing, she leaned against the side of a building as the morning replayed itself before her eyes.

It's not often she's seen Buffy cry. Truly cry, Dawn corrected herself, not like the wussy girl crying she did when Angel and Riley both left. But it was hard listening to those panicked pants and wheezes as Buffy leaned on their mother's thin shoulder, a part of her nearly losing it herself as she wondered what would happen if Buffy ever broke down.

As if that could happen, Dawn thought as she continued walking again. I don't think it could happen, she frowned, mentally crossing her fingers. But nonetheless, alarms went off in her head as she heard Buffy weeping in her room. She had stood outside the door uncertainly, a part of her wishing for the courage to enter. Yet the moment she had crossed the threshhold, her mother.. her *mother* of all people! waved her gently away.

Here they had been going off about how much Dawn is a part of the family, about how much she is really a Summers girl, no matter what her origin. And the second anything bad happens, she gets waved away.

"That's such BS," Dawn grumbled angrily as she pushed the rejection out of her head. Sighing, she stood at the entrance to the cemetary. She smiled slightly as her eyes came across Spike's crypt.

"Such BS," she repeated again as she took a hesitant step towards the ancient stone chamber. Dawn folded her arms defiantly over her chest as she glanced back to the entrance of the cemetary. She would be murdered if Buffy or Mom caught her here, again. Especially after that oh-so-thrilling "Spike Is Evil. Stay Away From Spike" lecture she got at length the other night.

"It's not like they want me around anyway," Dawn told herself firmly as she took another step to the crypt. "After all, Mom told me to leave them alone. So what's wrong with going where someone actually *likes* my company?"

She readjusted her small backpack nervously as she stood at the cracked, moss-covered door. He won't kill me, Dawn reassured herself as she gently pushed on the handle to enter. He can't.