Title: Abandoned, chapter 6
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: As always, please send feedback. I'd love to hear what you think about the story, where I'm taking it and such.

#

Dawn shut and locked the door, quietly, to avoid drawing attention. Buffy was out on patrol. Again. Seemed that was all she did in the weeks since Spike's disappearance. Xander, Anya and Willow, though, had stayed behind at the house to work on research, which meant Dawn needed to use more stealth then she had originally planned. So she left them downstairs, saying she had a mountain of homework, and retreated to her bedroom to do exactly what they all absolutely forbade her to do.

She spread the supplies on the floor behind her bed, hidden from view should someone come knocking. The U.S. map she laid out flat, and from her jewelry box she retrieved the sword-shaped Charm of Atlas, hanging off a silver chain. Willow hadn't noticed the pendant missing from her room yet, and, with any luck, Dawn would return it without anyone the wiser. Last, she pulled several plastic baggies of herbs from her backpack, and the spell book.

"OK, now time to get started," she muttered as she flipped open to the correct page. She read the spell's instructions aloud. "Sprinkle herbs evenly over map, dangle charm over map and say the required words while focusing thoughts and energy on the person and/or object you wish to find. The charm will point to the location of the person/object in question. ... Geez, it reads like a textbook. But it sounds easy enough. OK, then... sprinkling stinky herbs ..."

From each baggie, she took a pinches of powder and spread them, until the map seemed to be coated in a fine layer of dust. Then she looped the chain over her fingers and let the pendant swing freely over the East Coast.

"Hope this works," she said, and closed her eyes to picture Spike. She visualized him the cemetery, black duster falling about his combat boots, a mischievous glint in his eyes. With the image firmly in mind, she turned to the book and read. "Arabia, goddess of the lost, I invoke thy name, to light a path, to lay bare what is hidden ..."

As she spoke, the small jewel in the pendant's hilt glowed a brilliant green and the herbs began to swirl like a light mist. Dawn's heart pounded harder, and it took all her self-control not to drop the pendant.

"Send a guide, oh Arabia, I beseech thee ..."

The mist became a tiny whirlwind, focused directly under the pendant, which began to swing like a metronome. The jewel glowed like a vicious eye. Spike. Think about Spike, she reminded herself. With a trembling voice, she finished the spell. "In the eye of the storm, reveal what is lost!"

The pendant went shooting across the map, jerking Dawn's hand behind it. It halted just as abruptly, the tip of the tiny sword poking at a specific place on the map. She was able to read the city name before the herb whirlwind exploded outward in a rank cloud. Catching a lungful, she started coughing and dropped the pendant, which went dark as it fell from her hand.

Someone pounded on her door, and Dawn yelped in surprise. Whoever it was fiddled with the locked knob, then pounded again. "Dawn! Are you OK?" It was Willow's voice. "Dawn, answer me!"

"I'm fine," she choked out.

"Open the door!"

"I'm coming." She stuffed all the supplies under her bed, then opened a window to blow out the cloud of herbs. Still, her room smelled of rotten eggs. Willow kept pounding on the door.

"Dawn, what are you doing up here?" she asked urgently as Dawn let her in. "There was this loud rumbling noise, and all the electricity shorted out for a second and ... why is it so dusty in here ..." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she sniffed the air. "I know that smell ... you've been doing a spell."

"No -- no, I haven't," Dawn answered hastily. She picked up a textbook off the bed. "See, math. No big."

"What was it, Dawn? Were you trying to find Spike? After I specifically told you not to?"

Dawn stammered, "No -- I, um ... I was --"

"Don't lie to me." Willow's eyes flashed angrily.

"All right, all right." Dawn slumped her shoulders in defeat. She detested getting caught. "So, I was trying to find Spike. What's the harm? Buffy misses him, and I miss him, and he could be a big help in stopping whatever is going on with all the vampires. We need him here."

"But at what cost?" Willow sat on the bed, and Dawn sat beside her. "You used the invocation of Arabia, right? That is a very advanced spell, conjuring forces that are way beyond your control. Even I never did that spell alone. Without the proper focus, you could have hurt yourself or let loose something terrible..."

"But I didn't," Dawn assured her. "It worked just fine. The pendant did that little glowy thing, and it pointed at the map, and --"

Willow grabbed her shoulders and shook lightly with every word. "Don't. Do. It. Again. Do you understand me? It's too dangerous."

Dawn pulled away, sulking. "Fine. But aren't you the least bit curious where Spike is?"

"No," Willow said, but her sidelong look indicated otherwise.

"He's in Sunnydale."

Willow's parental attitude melted away at that, and she gaped. As she leaned in closer and whispered, she looked for all the world like a teenager catching up on the day's juiciest gossip. "Are you sure about that? Spike is in town?"

Dawn nodded. She took a strange satisfaction from her guardian's reaction. "Yep. The tiny sword pointed right at Sunnydale. No doubt about it."

"Oh my god, do you know what this means?" Willow broke into a grin. "We have to page Buffy. Right now."

#

To find the Big Man, Spike needed only to follow his footsteps home. Not to the crypt, of course. Not yet. He did want to retrieve some belongings he had forgotten when hightailing it out of town, but going to the crypt meant entering the cemetery, which would increase his chances of running into Buffy. As much as he ached to see her -- his jeans felt uncomfortably tight every time he thought of their last night together -- this wasn't the right time. He had tasks to accomplish first.

Even with the cemetery off limits, though, Spike knew of a few other likely prospects for vampire central. Sunnydale had only so many places where an army of the undead could set up base and not attract undue notice. After stopping by a butcher's shop for dinner, he drove to the burned-out factory, but its only occupants were rats, snakes and several of Drusilla's worn dolls. With his one-time lover in mind, Spike tore the heads off a couple of the pale, brown-haired variety before moving on.

Next stop, the mansion. This time, instead of just busting in, he opted for a more careful approach. He crouched behind some nearby bushes and watched for signs of activity. He didn't have to wait long. Two vampires soon came strolling up the driveway, not even bothering to act stealthy, and went inside. A different vamp came out a few minutes later for a smoke.

Bingo. He had found them. Now, how to get inside ...

The direct approach always seemed best, so Spike emerged from his hiding place, straightened his clothes, and marched up to the front door. The weaker, human part of him wished he had worn his duster -- the closest thing he had to a security blanket -- but he knew that would give away his identity too quickly. Just as the platinum blond hair would. Without either of his trademarks, Spike felt less like himself, almost naked. But I'm still me, he thought fiercely. William the Bloody. A bad- ass vampire who takes crap from no one. Well, except maybe from Buffy... and Dawn ... and that annoying Whistler bloke. But everyone else, watch out because here comes Spike ...

"Password," said a tired-looking vamp at the door, the one Spike had seen smoking.

"Du Lac," Spike answered promptly, and the vampire stood aside.

Spike had never liked the mansion, he mused as he entered the crowded foyer. It resurrected days of being confined to a wheelchair and losing Drusilla to their poof of a sire. How many nights had he spent rolling around the lower level, struggling to regain his strength and plotting against Angel and the Slayer? He had lost count. Too many, at any rate. No doubt about it, this place he would rather forget.

Yet here he was, playing double-agent, risking his hide, all for the sake of a woman who probably never loved him in the first place, no matter she had made his dreams come alive for one mind-blowing night. The things I do for that girl ...

Spike started his search for the inner sanctum, the place mostly likely used as offices for the Big Man. Everywhere he went, vampires scurried around like so many worker ants, going about their assigned tasks with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes. No one spoke. Their fear was almost tangible, and Spike wondered what could spark such powerful emotions in the ranks of the soulless.

He wandered into the main common room and suddenly found himself away from the bustle. The only occupants here were a council of vampires relaxed in a half-circle of easy chairs around the crackling fireplace, which burned mostly for show as the undead had no need for heat. The vamps talked quietly among themselves and failed to notice as Spike approached. He didn't know how he knew, but Spike felt certain he had found the generals of this operation.

"Well, now, this is something you don't see every day," he said, arrogant and swaggering. The vampires looked up at him, startled. "I mean, this place is great. You have it spruced up so tidy, and all those vamps at your beckon call. It is quite a sweet set-up."

One of the vampires leaned over his arm rest and regarded Spike. He looked hardly older than 10, with the frail body of a child, but his eyes told a different story. "Who are you?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with a British accent.

"Who are you?" Spike shot back. "The munchkin king?"

As Spike laughed at his own joke, the boy's eyes narrowed angrily and he waved his hand. Suddenly, Spike found himself floating several inches off the floor. The boy held out his open palm, then slowly closed it into a fist. Invisible hands clutched at Spike's throat, choking him even though he had no breath. He grabbed at them, trying to pull them off, but encountered nothing but air. Strangled noises escaped his throat and the world went black around the edges.

"I asked you a question, vampire," the boy said calmly. "Who. Are. You."

"William," Spike choked out. "Carlos ... sent ..."

The hands released him, and he crashed to the floor in a heap. Bloody hell! What was that? A warlock vampire? A powerful one, at that, to make a creature choke who had no need of breath. No wonder all the blokes around here were scared out of their knickers, if they got that kind of treatment. He glared daggers at the boy as he hefted himself to his feet.

"Let me guess," Spike said. "You're the Big Man."

"Correct," the boy said, nodding. "Now answer another question for me. Why would Carlos send me such a brash, arrogant vampire?"

Spike shrugged and barely held back a grin. Brash and arrogant. He liked the sound of that. "I told 'im I could care less about opening the bloody Hellmouth. I just want a shot at the Slayer. I can, of course, take her out before she has a chance to muck up your plans. What I won't do is be one of the scared-shitless slaves you have running around this place."

The other vampires murmured, and the Big Man smiled. "Ah. I see."

"So, tell me, since you're the head honcho around here, whether you'll let me at her. Give me a not-so-pathetic group of vamps to order around. I'd be oh so grateful and help you destroy the world."

"I'll have to think on it. Until then, I insist that you stay here at the mansion." He snapped his fingers, and a meek vampire girl came running in. "Show William to one of the guest quarters. Make sure he has everything he needs."

The girl bowed and led Spike from the room. Although he'd never admit it, he felt a wash of relief to get away from that eerie kid-who-wasn't. Reminded him too much of the Anointed One, except the Big Man obviously had more power. Spike knew he would have to watch his step around here.

#

Willow sat on the living floor with Dawn, helping her with math homework, and Xander and Anya were cuddling on the couch with a pile of bridal magazines, when Buffy slammed open the front door and stormed inside. Her hair flew askew, and her clothes were dusty from fighting.

"Is something wrong? Is Dawn OK?" she asked breathlessly, then saw the lack of panic on her friends' faces and backtracked. "...You all look OK. Unless you're struggling with an evil homework demon."

"We're fine," Xander assured her.

"Yep, we're good as gold," Anya said. Then, with a little grin, she added, "I always liked gold."

"Then what's with the page?" Buffy held up her beeper. "I was kind of thinking emergency, but ... obviously not."

Willow gave Dawn a sidelong glance and said, "Well, a couple of things, actually."

After the spell, Willow and Dawn had agreed not to say anything about Spike, at least not until Buffy had arrived. Xander especially hadn't been heartbroken about the vampire's disappearance -- he had suggested, when Buffy wasn't listening, that they have a party -- and he wouldn't be throwing streamers to know Spike had returned. In fact, he'd probably find a perfectly logical reason as to why they should say nothing at all to Buffy. So, Dawn and Willow had come down to the living room, grinning like idiots, and had kept their mouths shut.

Now, as Dawn watched Buffy stuff her pager into her pocket and fold her arms, that emotionless look on her face, she remembered why they needed Spike here, no matter the cost. Buffy had been withdrawn, different, since her resurrection, but after the whole song-and-dance thing, that had changed. She had smiled more, joked around; she even once got into a tickling match with Dawn, the two of them rolling around on the floor and giggling until tears streamed down their faces. Dawn had felt like her sister had finally returned to her.

Then Spike had vanished, and everything fell apart. When Dawn looked at her sister now, she didn't see Buffy Summers. She saw the Slayer. Hardly anything remained of that passionate spirit. It was all slay, slay, slay. Kill, kill, kill. Sacred duty and such. But no fun. No jokes or smiles or tickle monsters.

Spike could change that. Dawn knew, deep in her gut, that he could bring out the Buffy in her sister.

"I'm waiting," Buffy said flatly. "What was so important that you took me away from patrol?"

Willow cleared her throat, nervous under that stony glare. "First off, I found some information on this Big Man guy, and I thought you'd like to know. Just in case, maybe, you ran into him or something."

"I thought the book stuff was coming up nil."

"Oh, it was," Willow said. "That's why I got on my laptop, to see what kinda stuff I could find. And, lo and behold, the Big Man has a Web page."

Buffy blinked. "He what?"

"Yep, it's all right there on the Net. Oh, there aren't any pictures or great stashes of information or anything. But there was an open invitation to all vampires to come to Sunnydale and open the Hellmouth."

"Did it say when?"

"No. Sorry. Just some vague reference to the 'Night of All-Comers.'" She grinned. "Sounds like some weird party, huh? Where all the vamps get together and have boxing matches?"

Xander sighed. "It's times like this I wish Giles was still here. He knew where to look to get the good info."

"Sure, just as long as he doesn't want my store back," Anya said.

"And I wish Spike was here," Dawn said longingly. "He could help Buffy beat up on the bad guys."

"I don't need anyone's help," Buffy snapped. "Not Spike. Not Angel, or anyone else."

"I'm just saying--"

"Dawny," Buffy said, softer this time. "Spike is gone, and he isn't coming back. And, frankly, I think it's better that way." She returned her attention to Willow. "So, is that it? No other big breakthroughs in research?"

Willow sighed and looked away. "Nothing else. We'll keep looking."

"All right then. I'm going back out on patrol. Lots of vamps to kill." She started toward the door, then looked back. "Um, you did say there were a couple of things you wanted to talk about. What was the other?"

"Oh, nothing," Willow said quickly.

The front door shut, and Buffy was gone. Willow ducked her head and refused to meet Dawn's eyes, instead becoming engrossed in checking over a math problem. She looked guilty as hell, and, Dawn thought, she had every reason to.

"You didn't tell her?" Dawn asked, amazed. "Why didn't you tell her? It's what we paged her for in the first place."

"I know, I know." Willow dropped the textbook and finally met Dawn's hurt, bewildered stare. "But, Dawny, didn't you hear what she said, about it being better this way? I just couldn't say anything after that ..."

Dawn crossed her arms stubbornly. "I still think Buffy needs to know."

"Um, not to intrude," Xander said, raising his hand. "But what are you two talking about?"

Dawn glared at Willow. "Go ahead. Tell them."

"Um, ... well, you see ... the thing is ..."

"Oh, give me a break," Dawn said, rolling her eyes. "Spike is back. He's in Sunnydale. "

"Spike is what?" Xander asked, incredulous. "He's here? Now? Why?"

Dawn shrugged. "Don't know. But Buffy really really needs to know about this."

"No, she doesn't," Xander said curtly. "We should just let fang-boy do whatever it is he's here to do, then let him leave again. And good riddance to him."

"But Spike could help. You know, with the whole Hellmouth thing," Dawn said.

"Spike is nothing but trouble." Xander disengaged himself from Anya and started pacing, his long legs carrying him across the living room in only a few strides. "Am I the only one who remembers all those times he tried to kill us? How about when he kidnapped me and Willow to make her do that love spell? Or when he teamed up with Adam and tried to set us against each other?"

Dawn was on her feet now, fists clenched at her sides. "And how about how he helped you guys patrol all summer, after Buffy died? He stayed with me when you were having your secret Scooby meetings. He kept me safe when those crazy motorcycle demons came roaring into town."

Xander stopped pacing, right in front of her. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and looked earnestly into her eyes. "Spike is a soulless demon. If he stayed here, he would soon get bored with being one of the good guys and go back to his evil ways. It's better to just let him go."

"I don't believe you!" Dawn ripped away from his grasp, tears threatening to fall. "Spike is good, and he's my friend, and he's the only one of us who can make Buffy like she used to be. Can't you all see that? She's been lost without him, and now that he's come back, I'm not letting him get away again!"

She sobbed, ran up the stairs to her bedroom and slammed the door. Xander stood stunned, staring at the place where she had been standing moments before. He looked at Willow, who returned his gaze with pity, then at his fiancée, and up the stairs. At a loss of what else to do, he sank to the floor and held his head in his hands. Willow patted his shoulder in consolation.

"Well," Anya said, chipper as always. "That went well."

Xander peered up at Willow hopefully. "You agree with me, don't you, Wil?"

Willow grimaced. "Actually, I'm with Dawny on this one."

"Me, too," Anya said. At Xander's wounded look, she hastily added, "He's not really so bad, you know. Spike, I mean. He took me to a party once."

Xander sighed. It always happened like this, when it came to vampires. First Angel, and now Spike. He just had to accept that these were battles he would never win.

#

TBC ...