Title: Abandoned, chapter 4
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: Hey everyone ... thanks for getting this far into the story. :0) As always, please let me know what you think works and what doesn't. I'd love to hear your feedback, and I hope you enjoy.

#

Music vibrated throughout the Bronze, accompanied by the ever-present clatter of glasses and din of voices. The night's band pumped it on stage, to the cheers and applause of kids on the dance floor. Loud. Deafening. The roar attacked Spike from all sides so that he could hardly think, and he pressed his hands to his ears.

Yet above it all, he could sense something else, something tiny and gentle, and in a moment he knew what it was: the patter of rain on the roof. As he walked farther inside, he latched onto that sound, and everything else hushed to a whisper. He could smell it, the fresh, clean aroma, overpowering the nightclub stink of smoke and sweat. He could taste its purity on his tongue, though he hadn't drunk a drop.

Spike dared to lower his hands and look around. He had no idea how he had gotten here, but he vaguely remembered falling asleep in the back seat of the deSoto, the blackened windows rolled up to protect him from daylight. Now he walked through the Bronze, the world turning in slow motion around him, the music thrumming through his body. The rhythm of rain on the roof. He weaved among patrons who seemed little more substantial than ghosts, like one strong wind might blow them all away.

Across the room, he saw the first solid person here, a familiar face, so he walked to her. Dawn sat at a small, round table, poring over a thick, leather-bound book. Her hair covered most of her face as she leaned over the yellowed pages and muttered aloud what she read. It was in a language Spike didn't recognize. Her hand passed over the pages, and for a moment, the book glowed in emerald green. Spike blinked. The glow had vanished, and he wondered whether he had imagined it.

"What are you doing here, Lil' Bit?" he asked. "You're too young to get in here. Does big sis know about this?"

She looked up at him, and as her hair fell to the side, he could see her eyes glowing in the same bright green, not only the irises but also the pupils and whites. She looked alien, powerful. A lazy smile crossed her lips.

Spike stepped forward. "Are you all right, pet?"

"I knew I would find you," she said smugly. "You can't hide from me Spike, so don't even try."

Her gaze unnerved him, so he moved on, walking past her table and toward the dance floor. As he reached its edge, the crowd parted and he saw her, his Slayer, moving to the slow rhythms, arms rising above her head. A patchwork of shadow and light played over her hair and skin. Beside her, an insubstantial Willow and Xander danced, but it was Buffy who held him in rapture.

Now he remembered of what this reminded him: the first night he had seen her, soon after he and Dru had arrived in Sunnydale. He had found Buffy at the Bronze, hanging with her friends, smiling and laughing. She had looked so free that night, not bound by the chains of her calling. The song, the atmosphere, her abandon, it was all the same, except this Buffy looked older, as she had on the night they made love. Her hair fell in waves, and the sundress slid smooth against her skin. Spike wanted to go to her, but he couldn't move.

"So beautiful," he murmured.

Then she saw him and smiled. As Buffy excused herself from her friends and approached, rain started to leak through the roof, creating a light mist that made everything shine. For a moment, Spike worried that the rain would ruin Dawn's book, but then Buffy stood before him and he could think of nothing but her.

"Spike, where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I had to leave. I didn't have a choice, Buffy. I --"

She laid a finger on his lips. "Shhh. No more talking."

She took his hands and guided him onto the dance floor. The music changed, became slower, more seductive. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against him and started to dance. He held her close, his arms easily reaching around her tiny waist. She smelled of lilacs. The rain became heavier, soaking everyone and pooling on the floor, but no one cared.

"Buffy, I have to apologize to you," he said. "I did what I did to save you."

"I know."

"I need your forgiveness."

She smiled up at him, her hair now limp and plastered to her cheeks. Her makeup began to run, but still she was stunning. "I can't forgive you for leaving me, Spike. Not ever. But I will give you something else you want."

"And that is?"

She disengaged herself from his embrace, stepped back and reached under the hem of her soaking sundress, which clung to her in interesting ways. For a moment, Spike half-hoped, half-feared she would undress right here in the Bronze, but her hand emerged a moment later, clutching something tightly. He couldn't see it clearly with rainwater in his eyes, so he blinked a few times, then gasped. She held a stake.

He held up his hands and backed away. "No, Buffy, please --"

She looked at him sadly. "Goodbye, Spike."

"No!"

He could only watch, helpless, as the point descended toward his chest...

Spike bolted upright with a yell, arms outstretched, and bumped his head on the roof of the deSoto. He looked all around, panic still clutching at his insides, before he realized he was alone. No Bronze, rainstorm, Dawn, Buffy or anything else. Certainly the stake had vanished, for which he whispered silent thanks.

Bloody hell, he thought, rubbing his forehead where he had collided with the roof. What was that?

That made three times this week he had dreamed about Buffy, but no dream before had featured her trying to kill him. I will give you something else you want. She had said that every time, but with different results. The first time had ended much like their real-life encounter, naked in each other's arms. The second, she had started to pummel him, and Spike learned that, strangely enough, he could hit her back.

This third dream, though, had new elements. Dawn with the book and green eyes, the rainstorm, and Buffy with a stake. Also unlike previous dreams, this one had felt real. So real that Spike could recall every detail, every scent and sound. He was half-convinced if he hadn't woken up when he did, he might have turned to dust right there in the car.

He forced himself to relax back and close his eyes -- the sun wouldn't set for several more hours and he needed his sleep. He would reach New York City tomorrow and then catch a Concorde nighttime flight across the Atlantic. He had to be well-rested when he arrived in London.

Whatever that dream meant, he would worry about it tomorrow.

#

After dark, the streets of Sunnydale typically emptied of residents. If anyone had to be out, they finished their business quickly, for dangerous, unexplainable things often happened at night in this small California town. Tonight, though, was more lonely than normal, Buffy noted as she wandered. Not that she minded. Solitude had become a trusted friend these days, especially in the week since Spike had split the scene. Willow had offered to join her on patrol -- almost begged, in fact -- but Buffy had refused as politely as she could. Willow only wanted to probe for information on Spike, ask her if she was OK, and as much as Buffy loved her friend, the questions grated. Buffy needed her escape.

Besides, Willow had to walk Dawn home from the magic shop later, as Buffy would likely not finish patrolling until late. No way would she allow her precocious little sister to explore the streets on her own. Last time, Dawn had ended up making out with a teenage vampire and had almost gotten herself killed or, even worse, turned. Maybe it had something to do with her supernatural origins, but the girl couldn't stay out of trouble.

Buffy had crossed an empty street bordering the cemetery before she realized where her feet were taking her. Not again, she thought. Tonight, just this once, I won't go there. Despite her inward protests, she knew she would end up at Spike's crypt, based on the glimmer of hope that he might have returned.

She strolled among the shadowy tombstones, gloved hands buried in her coat pockets, with an eye out for vampires and fantasies playing through her mind. Spike kicked back in his recliner, one leg hoisted over the arm rest, maybe reapplying his black nail polish or watching TV. Perhaps he would still be in bed, or eating his liquid breakfast. Didn't matter, because no matter what she wished for, the scenarios would never come true. He's gone. For good this time. I have to accept it.

Rustling from behind snapped her to reality. She pulled out a stake and crouched behind a tombstone to wait. A tall, slender figure approached at a walk, silhouetted in darkness. He looked confident, strong and unaware of the death that awaited him. Then the charade broke as he stumbled over a rock and pitched forward face-first into the ground.

"Ouch! Dammit."

She knew the voice. Buffy poked her head over the tombstone for a better look. "Xander? Is that you?"

"Gee, how could you tell?" he asked as he scrambled to his feet and wiped dead grass off his jeans. "Could it maybe be my graceful acrobatics?"

Great. Just what she needed -- someone to ruin her rare private time. She stomped to him and hissed, "What are you doing here?"

"I followed you. Looked like you could use someone to talk to."

"Nope. I'm fine." Maybe if she smiled convincingly enough, he would go away. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his concern. Most nights she would welcome his company, but she just didn't have the energy tonight to keep up the happy-face facade.

Xander's eyes narrowed. "I'm not buying it. Something's up, Buffy, and it's not going to go away unless you --" He broke off and pointed frantically behind her. "Vampires!"

Buffy spun around, barely in time to ram her stake into her first victim of the evening. She blinked against the dust of his passing, then ducked as another vampire swung both fists where her face had been moments before. She effortlessly dusted him as well, then glanced back at Xander, who had pulled a stake and cross from his pockets and was watching their attackers warily. Satisfied he would hold his own, or at least not get himself killed, Buffy focused on the three other vamps rushing toward them. Pigs to the slaughter, she thought grimly.

Two vamps came straight at her, while the third hung back. She dispatched one of them in seconds, then punched the other in the face. He sneered and swung back, but Buffy avoided his fist by dropping to the side. In one fluid motion, she came up behind him and buried her stake in his back. Four down, one to go. It all seemed too easy. She exchanged a dark glare with the remaining vampire; then he turned and ran.

"Hey, come back here!" she yelled, knowing full well the vamp wouldn't listen. She groaned, then set off after him.

They raced through the cemetery, dodging freshly dug graves and hurdling stone markers. It quickly became apparent, from the way the vampire kept slowing down to gage his location, that he wasn't fleeing in a random direction; he had a specific destination in mind. So, playing on a hunch, Buffy allowed herself to ease up a bit and let him keep his lead. She wanted to know where this would end.

She followed him to the far end of the cemetery, to one of the older and larger crypts, its walls crumbled away in places to reveal light within. Before its front door slammed shut behind the vampire, Buffy made out at least one other figure inside. So it could be only two more vamps, but also could be a nest. She had to play this one carefully.

Xander came stumbling up behind her and collapsed into the grass, his breath coming in gasps. "Remind me to get into better shape, OK? Like get into an aerobics program or that one where they make everyone ride stationary bikes until they pass out from exhaustion."

"Spinning?"

"Yeah, that." He nodded toward the crypt. "The big bad went in there?"

"Yep. There's at least one more."

"So what do we do?"

"We don't do anything," she answered curtly.

"All right then, what do you do? While I cower in the grass and hope they don't see me."

She rolled her eyes, partly at his obvious question and partly at his self-deprecating humor. "Review handbook. See: Job description, Vampire Slayer."

Xander took a moment to process that. "So, um, does that mean you're going to kill them?"

For an answer, Buffy waved him down and stalked toward the crypt. She peered through a gap where the wall had crumbled away. It left her with a limited view, but enough to make out the doings inside. The escaped vampire raced around the crypt, stuffing supplies into a bag, while a second vamp rolled up a large sheet of paper that was laying on a sarcophagus. They acted like the last survivors of a war, who were preparing for a hasty retreat. Buffy had to take them out now, before the chance was lost. She heard them arguing as she eased open the crypt door.

"You idiot," the second one spat. "What were you thinking, running back here with the Slayer on your tail?"

"I'm telling you I lost her," the first one said. "She just couldn't keep up --"

"I wouldn't count on that," Buffy said smugly from the doorway, then widened her eyes in feigned innocence as they turned their angry glares on her. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something important?"

The second vamp bared his teeth and hissed, "Slayer."

"Good call. Now I want you two boys to stop arguing and hand all your toys over to me, OK?"

"Get her!" the first one yelled, and they charged.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Can't you vamps come up with anything more original than 'get her'?" She dusted the first one. "I mean, use some originality because that line is so over done." Her stake found the heart of the second, and she sighed at the empty room before her. "That's the problem with slaying. When you've done your job right, there's no audience left to appreciate it."

"I thought it was a job well done," Xander said from behind her.

Buffy grinned. Maybe it wasn't so bad he had followed her, after all. "Thanks. Think we should take a look at what Heckle and Jeckle were packing up?"

The bag held the normal stuff: knives, guns, a couple of Walkie-Talkies and a cell phone. Why the vampires hadn't used the weapons on her, she couldn't guess, except that maybe they were even more stupid than she had initially surmised. She tossed that loot aside and turned her attention to the paper still laying on the sarcophagus. It looked like a map. A blue map, with lines and numbers etched in white.

"Xander, you should see this," she said.

He leaned over for a look as she laid it flat. "It's a blueprint. See here, these are measurements for the walls. But what would a couple of vamps want with blueprints?"

Buffy shrugged. "I guess that depends on what building it is." She examined it more closely, and something caught her eye: A small red dot, drawn in by marker in a large room on the building's north side. She pointed at it and said, "What's that for?"

"I'm not sure, but --" He stopped short and sudden understanding lit in his eyes. "Oh, wait. I know this building. This is the old-burned out high school. Look, there's the cafeteria, and that's the gym, and the broiler room."

"And the red dot ..." Buffy prompted.

Xander gulped hard. "It's right over the library, Buffy."

The library. She traced her fingers over the spot, where there used to stand their fortress against all dark things. Looking down at it, she could almost smell the musty books, feel the energy that vibrated there. That room had been their sanctuary and home for three years, but it also had a greater significance, buried deep under the piles of charred rubble, dormant but never gone.

"The Hellmouth," she said softly. "They were going for the Hellmouth."

#

"So it's over now, right?" Anya asked hopefully, while counting money from the cash register. "I mean, you killed them all, so no more opening the Hellmouth, right?"

"I guess so," Buffy said, sliding into a chair at the table. "They could have been alone, but I don't really know."

The blueprints of the high school laid on the table, held down at the corners with heavy spell books -- "At least they're getting some use," Willow had said of the volumes -- and Willow, Xander and Buffy had circled around to examine the map for any other clues. Dawn was off counting inventory on the upper levels, and Anya was behind the counter, doing her joyous dance of capitalistic superiority.

"What do you think, Wil?" Buffy asked her friend, who was chewing her lower lip in thought.

"I don't know. You're sure that you searched the crypt thoroughly, and there were no spell books or charms or anything like that? Just the blueprint?"

Xander said, "That, and the stuff in the bag. We found a couple other knives, but that was it."

Buffy nodded her agreement. "We scoured the place and came up with nothing."

"Then my guess is that these guys weren't working alone," Willow said. "I mean, without a spell book or something, all they could do is stand in a circle around the big crater and sing campfire songs. It wouldn't do them any good, but it might be kinda interesting to watch." She ran her fingertips over the red dot. "I'm guessing they're like an advance party. You know, scouting the area, gathering information before reporting back to some big boss."

"Maybe," Buffy said, "but who is the big boss?"

"Do I look like I'm all-knowing?" Willow asked sarcastically. "Besides, it's just a theory, and probably not a very good one."

"Right now, it's the only theory we have." Buffy stood to stretch her arms overhead. "Well, I think we've done all we can for tonight. We should all keep an extra close eye out for any unusual stuff, or stuff that's more unusual than usual." She looked up toward the second level and raised her voice, "Dawn?"

Her sister popped her head over the railing. "Yeah?"

"It's time to go."

"I'll be down in a minute. I just want to finish with cataloging this shelf."

"Don't be long. It's already late, and tomorrow's a school day."

Dawn nodded and crawled back over to the bottom shelf she had been examining, mumbling to herself the whole time, "Don't be long, Buffy says. It's late, and you're just a child and heaven forbid you stay up past your bedtime." She reached for a leather-bound book. "Don't go looking in spell books, Dawny, because you're too young and impressionable. Like anyone remembers I'm a mystical key that's older than all of them put together."

She flipped open to the title page, which read, "Transmutation and Animal Magics for the Advanced Level." That wouldn't help her unless she wanted to rat herself up like fuzzy Amy, and it certainly would be of no use in locating Spike. She set the book back on the shelf.

"Dawn, come on!" Buffy yelled.

Dawn grated her teeth. "Coming! Just a minute."

She grabbed another volume, this one thinner and with a majestic purple cover. "Self-levitation for Beginners," it said. That might prove fun for later, maybe learning how to fly to school instead of walking every day. Still, not what she needed. Dawn had a nasty suspicion that the spell she wanted didn't exist, no matter what Willow had said.

She wouldn't stop looking, though. Not ever. Buffy wasn't the only one who felt the pain of Spike's absence. He had been the only one to really understand Dawn, to treat her like a person instead of a child. As much as she loved her sister and Willow, both of them had been too wrapped up in their own problems to pay her much attention. Buffy had sunk herself into Slayer mode, in an effort to forget the loss of Spike and Giles. Willow pined after Tara and obsessed over not doing magic. No one had time to wonder whether maybe Dawn was hurting, too, but she at least was going to do something about her problems instead of just brooding. She would locate Spike, go find him and convince him to come back.

"Dawn!" Buffy sounded angry now.

"All right, all right!" She pulled a random book off the shelf and stuffed it in her backpack before climbing down the ladder. "Geez, keep your pants on, OK?"

Buffy sighed. "Come on. We're going home."

Buffy, Willow and Dawn said their goodnights to Xander and Anya and headed out for the long trek home. Normally, Dawn hated having to walk and wished with every step that her sister would buy a car, but tonight she enjoyed it. She tuned out Buffy and Willow's conversation -- like she cared about some vamps who had colored in the old school library on a map -- and instead thought about when she would see Spike again. In her fantasy, he was so happy to see her and they hopped a plane for Sunnydale and arrived on Christmas morning. What a present that would be for Buffy: Spike beneath the Christmas tree.

I know I will find you, she thought, the words circling over and over in her mind. You can't hide from me, Spike, so don't even try.

#

TBC ...