Title: Abandoned
Author: Jennifer Campbell
Fandom: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Spoilers: Through "Tabula Rasa"
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: R -- for language and nongraphic sex
Disclaimers: Not mine. Belong to Joss.
Author's notes: Thanks so much for all the feedback on chapter 1! I'm floored by the response. I hope you enjoy the next part, as well. Warning: Much angst in this chapter.

#

Spike growled, deep in his throat, and unceremoniously dumped the demon on the crypt floor. Whistler landed flat on his bottom, scrambled to his feet and brushed his hands over the back of his suit. The whole thing looked rather comical, as though Whistler had come straight out of a 1950s film noir with beautiful temptresses and smoking guns. Except he was one of the little guys, the ones who always got stepped on.

"Watch it, will ya?" he said. "This is an expensive ensemble. It doesn't take well to dust and blood stains."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

Spike grinned coldly. "You got me there, mate. Now are you going to tell me what you're doing in my crypt?"

"I already told you, I have a message for you from The Powers That Be." He spread his arms wide and looked to the heavens before returning his attention to Spike. "They've been keeping an eye on you and the Slayer for a while now, and after last night, well, they decided it's time to step in."

"What are you talking about?"

"You. Buffy. Making with the smooches. Not good."

"I think you need to tell your Powers to sod off and mind their own business."

Spike turned away, returned to fridge to recover his blood packet, which was dripping all over the floor. He took a sip and almost spat it out again. Cold. He could pop it back the microwave, but reheated blood just didn't taste the same. Yet another reason to detest this intrusion -- it had ruined his breakfast.

Whistler was wandering the crypt now, examining every candle and piece of furniture as though it were a museum artifact. Spike watched surreptitiously, ready to jump into attack mode at any moment. He still didn't like this guy -- reminded him too much of those kitten collectors --but he was reasonably certain Whistler was no more than what he said. A messenger, albeit one with unwelcome tidings and a serious lack of tact. No one could insult Buffy, then order Spike to stay away from her, especially now that he finally had her.

"Nice place you got here," Whistler said. "Probably a little drafty in the winter but, hey, if that doesn't bother you, then you've got it made."

"Is there something else on your mind?" Spike asked, rather impatient. "You have your answer on Buffy. I'm not giving her up. So you can go back to your Powers and tell them to leave us alone."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," Whistler said. "You see, Buffy is on the wrong path. She's scared, unsure of herself. She's been hiding behind her Watcher, but now that he's gone, she's gonna start hiding behind you. She knows you'll protect her, give her a sense of security."

"Bloody right, I will," Spike retorted. "She deserves it, after all she's been through."

"It will make her weak."

"She's stronger than you know."

"Not for long." Whistler took his hat in his hands, started twirling it in what Spike guessed was a nervous habit. "The girl hasn't had an easy go of it. No Slayer does. But she's been strong because she's always known that, in the end, she can count on herself to pull through and win. The moment she believes someone else will save her, that will be her downfall. She'll get herself killed."

That got Spike's attention. Buffy dead, again? No, he wouldn't let that happen. The world needed her too much, as did the Nibblet and all the Scooby friends. More importantly, he needed her.

"Buffy won't die. Not again. I'll protect her."

Whistler snorted. "Stupid vamp. You're not hearing a word I'm saying, are you? You can't protect her. There's some nasty stuff coming, and the only way she'll prevail is if she relearns to stand on her own."

"So what, then?" Spike said, getting angry now. "You and your soddin' Powers expect me to stand by and watch her suffer? I won't do that."

"No, they expect you to leave her."

Spike blinked, unsure he had heard that right. He studied Whistler closely.

"Say that again?"

#

Buffy woke shortly after sunrise feeling rather groggy and disoriented, took one look at her surroundings and panicked. She was lying on an unfamiliar bed -- naked, no less -- and was curled up against an equally naked Spike. He hadn't woken up yet, and had one arm draped over her stomach and a contended smile on his lips.

It all crashed back, everything they had done. How she had thrown herself at him the previous night (oh god), how tender and loving he had been, at least until those last few moments when he had slipped into vampire face and bit his own arm to satisfy the bloodlust. Strangely enough, at the time, she hadn't cared. He had rekindled the fire; that was all that mattered.

In the daylight, though, things were, well, different. And this situation with Spike had gone way too far. She gently disengaged herself from her lover (my lover, oh my god), who rolled over but didn't wake, and tiptoed upstairs to dress.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she muttered while pulling on her sundress and sandals. "Oh my god what did I do? Oh god ..."

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she crossed the cemetery, which was still shrouded in an early morning mist that condensed on her bare arms and legs. The air hadn't been nearly this frigid last night, or maybe she just hadn't cared enough to notice. The cold inside her had been much worse. Then he had touched her, and she had started to thaw. His passion had seared her to the core.

She had needed that, so desperately. Especially after Giles' abrupt departure, and Tara moving out. All the secrets had been revealed, and her band of friends had not emerged unscathed. They were breaking apart. Willow had sunk into post-breakup depression, Dawn was angry at them all for messing up her happy home, and Buffy herself ... well, she had been reckless enough to sleep with the one person she trusted most.

Spike had been her anchor through the past few weeks, since her resurrection. No matter how many times she had abused him, insulted him, demanded that he get out of town, he had stubbornly refused to leave. He had even stayed with Dawn after Buffy's death, merely because of a promise. Through it all, he had been the only one who hadn't betrayed or abandoned her, and now she had gone and ruined it by sleeping with him. Things got weird after sex. Men had a way of disappearing.

"Ohgod ohgod ohgod ..."

She circled the house and snuck in the kitchen door, hoping maybe the others wouldn't be awake yet even though it was a school day. She eased the door shut, winced when it squeaked (yet another fix-it-up job to add to the list) and jumped when she saw Willow leaning against the opposite entryway, arms crossed and mouth set in an angry line.

"Buffy, where have you been? Dawny and I have been worried sick for the past half-hour. We called Xander, and he's out looking for you. I would have done a locator spell, but, well, magic is kinda out of the question right now."

"Geez, Wil, overreact much?"

Willow blushed and looked at her feet. "I don't think it is overreacting. Since you told us about ... you know ... you've been acting a little crazy, and we've been extra worried. Then you vanish for an entire night ... We worry because we love you. You know that, right? That we all love you?"

Now Buffy felt embarrassed. She hadn't realized her tryst might have other unintended consequences, beyond the obvious complications with Spike. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, but you know I won't break if you look at me the wrong way. I can take care of myself."

"I know, but --"

Willow looked like she wanted to say more, but footsteps thumped down the stairs and Dawn raced into the kitchen. Her makeup was only half- done, and she was wearing one sock. Obviously Buffy's entrance had interrupted her morning routine, but Dawn didn't seem to care. She took one look at her sister and crushed her in a hug.

"You're OK!"

Buffy sighed and smoothed Dawn's hair. "I'm fine."

"Where were you?"

She felt her face heat. "I was, um, at Spike's. We were talking, and I fell asleep."

"At Spike's? All night?" Dawn pulled back, so that her hands rested on Buffy's shoulders. She sniffed. "You know, you kind of smell like him. All smoky and --"

"So, Wil, what's on the schedule for today?" Buffy squeaked out. "Any baddies to kill, or research, or anything at all?"

Willow and Dawn exchanged a look, then Willow studied Buffy so closely that Buffy thought maybe her friend was using magic to read her mind, to discover her most recent secret. Probably just her imagination, then again, how did someone keep their thoughts from a witch? Just think about anything else. Um, popcorn, candy canes, algebra and two-times-two. Anything but Spike and sex and ...

"Oh, god," Buffy said, pressing her palms to her eyes.

Her night with Spike had been ... amazing and exactly what she had needed. Still, she had no clue how to explain it to her friends. Dawn might understand, but the others mostly regarded Spike as a hanger-on, not a card-carrying member of the gang. Those times had passed, though, when he had stood on the outside. She had to make them understand what he had become: her shield and confidant.

"Dawn," Willow said, never taking her eyes off Buffy, "why don't you go finish getting ready for school."

"But --"

"Dawn, go." Willow's voice dropped to deadly quiet.

"Fine, I can take a hint," Dawn said, throwing her arms in the air. "I'll run along so you can have interesting discussions without me. Just don't go making her forget things because we've all had enough of that."

She stomped out. A guilty look flickered across Willow's face as she and Buffy took stools at the kitchen bar.

"You want to talk about it?" Willow asked gently. "Whatever 'it' is?"

So she hadn't been reading thoughts, after all. Buffy relaxed. After the debacle of her memory spell, Willow had sworn off magic, at least for a while, in the hope of winning back Tara's trust. It seemed that she planned on sticking to that.

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not ready to talk. I mean, I will, but not yet. Understand?"

"Yeah, I get that."

"Thanks." She reached out to squeeze Willow's hand. "How are you?"

"I'm OK," Willow said, giving her a brave smile. "I mean, when I remember to keep breathing and talking and everything else, then I'm OK." Her eyes started to water. "I know it was my fault and that I deserve to be punished, but I miss Tara. I feel so lost without her."

"It'll get easier."

"I know."

"Just don't do anything drastic, like making Giles go blind or turning Xander into a demon magnet, all right?"

Willow crooked a grin. "Or making you fall in love with Spike."

Too late for that. Buffy almost said the words, then caught herself and covered with a coughing fit. The mere thought of it floored her. In love with Spike. It sounded strange, and not quite right. Friends, sure. Lovers ... last night she had all but promised him there was no going back. But in love?

Willow patted her back. "Buffy, are you OK?"

"Fine," she choked out. "I just -- I need to go take a shower. See you later at the Magic Box?"

"Yeah, sure."

She felt Willow's eyes, brimming with concern, follow her flight from the kitchen. She wasn't ready yet to talk with her friends about this newest development, but she did need to talk to Spike. Tonight. Maybe he could resolve the conflict in her heart.

#

"Let me explain something to you and your Powers," Spike said from his seat atop the sarcophagus. Whistler slouched across from him in an old recliner. "Just about every man Buffy has ever cared for has left her, starting with her father. Then there was my poof of a sire, soldier boy and her Watcher. If I left, too, it might destroy her. The bloody straw that breaks the bloody camel's back. Get it?"

"Someone's on an ego trip," Whistler muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, she survived all the others, right? And she was stronger for it. She'll survive now, too."

Spike crossed his arms. "I'm not leaving."

"Geez, what is it with vampires fallin for this girl?" Whistler rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm gonna lay it out for you, nice and simple. You stay, Buffy dies. You leave, she has a shot at living. And I'm not talking about this wandering around in a dream world thing she's doin' right now. I'm talking about really living."

Spike visualized it, Buffy playing, smiling in the sunlight, doing things normal people do. "You mean that? Buffy would be happy?"

"Well, I'm not promising anything on that account. All I can guarantee is that if you stay, she will come to depend on you too much and she'll end up in the ground. Again. Which would be too bad since she's the only one who can stop what's coming."

"And what's that?"

Whistler shrugged. "Oh, apocalypse stuff, the whole world on the brink of destruction. The usual. You know how it goes." He leaned forward, his expression serious. "So save the world and save your Slayer. Get out of town."

Spike couldn't bring himself to answer or to refuse to listen when what the demon said made sense. Instead he laid back on the sarcophagus lid, his forearm covering his face and the tears that were threatening to fall. He refused to show weakness, even though his dead heart broke with every moment. Leave Buffy. Leave his beloved, to save her. He tried to recall, in his mind's eye, an image of her, smiling, laughing and enjoying life, all those things Whistler said might happen if he left. All he could see were her tears, after she would find him gone.

Whistler rose from his chair and looked down at Spike. "It's not like you'd be left out in the cold completely. We'd keep you updated on her progress, of course, while you're out on missions for the Powers."

Spike did a double-take. Whistler had dropped that all too casually. "What missions?"

"Infiltrating groups of bad guys, gathering information, then taking 'em out."

"What do I look like? James Bond?"

"You'd be stopping the bad guys before they got within a hundred miles of your Slayer. You'd be keeping her safe, from a safe distance of course. There's a certain romantic charm to it all, you got to admit. Plus, the pay is great."

"You're off your nut, you know that."

Spike sat up, swung his legs around to dangle off the stone coffin and pressed both palms to his eyes. Why, when everything was looking up, did something have to come along and ruin it. Happened every soddin' time.

"So what do you say?" Whistler said, jumping up beside Spike. "Help her live, or help her die. It's all up to you."

#

At sunset, Buffy was crossing the cemetery, humming a show tune and swinging a plastic bag she'd gotten at a nearby department store. She didn't bother knocking at Spike's crypt. Never did. She rather enjoyed his annoyed comments about her lack of decorum, and just because they had slept together didn't mean she had to start treating him differently.

She marched in, expecting to hear his deep voice at any second, complaining about her entrance. Then she'd spat back with some witty comment, and he would smile mischievously and pull her into his arms ...

No, no, no. She shook the fantasy from her mind. She had come here for a specific purpose: To tell Spike that although she appreciated his friendship, they couldn't be lovers. Because every man she had sex with ended up leaving and she couldn't bear to lose him, too. So friends they would remain. He wouldn't react well, she knew, but it had to be that way.

The upper crypt was empty. He hadn't bothered to light candles, so Buffy let her eyes to adjust before venturing inside.

"Spike?" she called. "Are you here?"

No answer. Maybe he had gone out on patrol, or looking for her. Then again, maybe he was still asleep downstairs, stretched out across the bed, naked and ....

"Spike? Hello? I bought you a new T-shirt. It's black."

She descended the ladder, turned around and jumped in surprise. She had expected a vampire. Instead, a strange, short man sat on the edge of the bed, twirling his hat with both hands. Buffy's Slayer instincts went on heightened alert.

"I know you," she said, as she cautiously approached. "You told me how to defeat Angel. Whistler, right?"

He grinned. "Glad to know I'm so memorable."

"What are you doing here? And where's Spike?"

He shook his head in pity. "Listen, kid, I'm sorry. I really am. But this is the way things have to be."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Whistler gave her one more sad look, withdrew a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it out to her. "Spike asked me to give you this."

She accepted it with trembling hands and stared at it, but couldn't bring herself to unfold it. The paper was crumpled at the edges. She had no doubt what Whistler had handed her, although she didn't know how she knew. This was Spike's farewell note. He hadn't even cared enough to say good-bye. Her sight blurred, but she held back the tears.

"Why?" she whispered, looking up at Whistler.

"Because the Slayer stands alone. That's the way it's always been." He nodded toward the note. "Go on. Read it."

She unfolded the paper. Spike had penned it in his own loopy handwriting, and his tears had smeared the ink. The message wasn't long. She read the words three times before refolding the note, stuffing it in her pocket and nodding to Whistler. Without a word, she left, Spike's new black T-shirt forgotten on the floor near his bed.

The tears that so recently had threatened had dried up now. Buffy felt a curious, calm detachment spread throughout her, like she would wake at any moment. None of this was really happening. Only a dream. She floated in a haze as she left the cemetery, crossed town and wandered into the Magic Box. All her friends sat at the table, poring over musty books and chatting about inconsequential things. Xander and Anya whispered to each other while Willow watched them in mournful remembrance of her own lost love.

Dawn saw her first. "Buffy, hi! Where have you been?" She paused and studied her sister carefully as Buffy crossed the shop. "Are you all right? You look kind of, I don't know ... bad."

They all broke off their conversations to stare, in obvious concern, as Buffy wordlessly pulled Spike's note from her pocket and handed it to Dawn. Her sister's eyes watered as she read, then she stood and grabbed Buffy in a one-sided embrace. Buffy was too numb to respond.

"I'm so sorry," Dawn said.

Xander piped up, "So is this a secret between sisters, or can anyone know?"

Dawn handed the note to the closest person, Willow, then eased Buffy into a chair at the table. Willow read and looked from Buffy to Dawn, then to an anxious-looking Xander and Anya.

"It's Spike," Willow said. "He's gone."

The words touched Buffy's heart in a way that reading the note itself hadn't done, and reality came crashing in. Not a dream, not if her friends had seen it too, not after Willow's confirmation. Spike had really left her. Just like all the others, he had left her.

Buffy laid her head on the table and cried.

#

TBC ...