Title: Abandoned, chapter 7
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: This chapter is a bit shorter, partly because there's not as much to say, partly because I've been busy this week with holiday-type stuff. Not much time for writing.

#

The army of minions relaxed up somewhat during the day, when they were free of the ever-watchful eye of the Big Man and his generals. No one could leave the mansion during daylight, so they slept, or gambled and drank. Spike opted for the latter. Vampires tended to talk while they played, and loose tongues made for valuable information.

He found a poker game in a vast expanse that used to serve as a dining room. Now it looked more like a bar, but without the order. Loud, smoky. Brawls frequently breaking out. Blood splattered everywhere. A row of humans chained to the back wall, weak and helpless, their bodies covered in bite marks. Spike's mouth watered at the site, but he simultaneously felt a wave of revulsion, his stomach doing a slow, nauseating roll. Damn you and your conscious, Slayer, he thought. Can't even think about biting a human without worrying about what you'd think. He deliberately looked away.

Soon after, Spike had settled in at a table with three other vamps, his back to the human buffet, a pile of chips in front of him, which meant little, of course, since the Big Man had outlawed actual gambling. They played only to pass the time, the chips merely a means of keeping score. One of his tablemates offered a beer, but he passed -- as much as he wanted a drink, he needed to stay sober. He dealt the cards.

"So, William, how long have you been here?" asked the only female vampire at the table. Her hair and heart-shaped face reminded Spike of the witch, so he dubbed her Red.

"Since last night," he replied, then looked at his cards. Pair of Kings. "How about you?"

"A week."

"And you guys?" Spike asked the other vamps.

"About the same. A week. I read about this on the Net and rushed over from Las Vegas," said the second one, whose hair was gray at the temples. He muttered a couple of curses as he fanned out his cards. Not much for the poker face. Must have lost a tidy sum in Vegas.

"I've been in this hell hole for a month," said the third, bitterly. "Cooped up in this dank place, taking orders from a kid who could probably kill everyone here just by looking at 'em. He promised an apocalypse, but all I've done so far is run away from the Slayer a few times. Man, I want some real action. The destroy-the-world variety."

Spike's ears perked up. He tried to looked uninterested and said, "The Slayer, huh? You've seen her?"

"Yeah. Tough little minx. I watched her take out an entire patrol a couple of nights ago. I barely escaped." His mouth twitched as he examined his cards, then he threw a couple of chips into the center. "Ten to start."

"Call," Red said, then added, "I heard she's like the Terminator. You know, no emotions. Like a robot. Just keeps coming and keeps killing. That's what everyone is saying -- those who have escaped, anyway, and there aren't many."

No emotions ... like a robot. Spike closed his eyes against the pain that washed through him at those words. He couldn't let it show. Not here. But hearing what had happened to Buffy, that she had mostly likely shut down after he left ... it's what Whistler had wanted. That she would only rely on herself, not give in to her emotions. But his Slayer deserved better than that.

"Call," Second said.

"Call." Spike threw in his chips, then gave out new cards. He said, nonchalantly, "So what about this apocolypse. Is it going down anytime soon? Because I don't bloody well want to stay here any longer than I have to."

"Don't know," Third said, shrugging. "They don't tell us anything."

"Tomorrow night," Red said confidently.

They all looked at her, and Spike said, "You sure about that?"

"Yeah. I overheard the Big Man talking about it with one of the generals last night. I mean, I wasn't trying to listen in, but it's kinda hard not to when they're standing right there. Anyway, Big Man says 'Is everything ready?' And the general says, 'Almost. The Slayer's still a problem.' And Big Man replies, 'No matter. She won't stop what is foretold. Two nights hence, the world will end.'"

"Wow," Second said, so dumbstruck that he inadvertently lowered his cards enough for everyone to see. "That's just ... wow."

"I second that," Third said, nodding. "Finally we get some action."

Spike grunted his agreement, but his mind whirled elsewhere. Two nights? He had to find Buffy, and fast. Give her the information, then maybe get her and her sister out of town. No, that wouldn't work. The Slayer in her would never allow it. She would say something about her soddin' sacred duty and then march in to get killed, like in his dreams. Buffy, motionless in the dirt, her blood pooling around her and staining the earth red. Dawn crying over her body, glowing green eyes staring up at him in scathing accusations. Won't happen, he thought. Not ever. Not if I can help it.

"So are we going to play or what?" Second asked curtly.

Third cleared his throat. "Oh, right. Um ... ten." He tossed her chips into the center.

Red said, "I see your ten and raise you five ..."

So it went around the table, and ended with a larger heap of chips in front of Spike. They were ready to start a new hand when two bouncer-sized vampires appeared seemingly from nowhere and stood behind Spike's chair. Their massive bodies cast shadows over the table, and Spike twisted around to look at them.

"William," one of them said, staring right at him. "Come with us."

Spike's fellow poker players regarded him with wide eyes as he shrugged, threw his cards on the table and stood. "Sorry, mates. I'm out. Got other places to be."

He followed his guards from the room like a good little minion -- nervous, head bowed, shoulders hunched -- but inside he was grinning. He had new information, and now he was on his way to see the Big Man. With any luck, he would be out on patrol this evening, on the pretense of killing the Slayer, leaving him free to pass on intelligence and save her cute butt once again.

#

Willow spread out the street map of Sunnydale on the thick carpet, smoothed it flat, then simply stared at it, as though hypnotized, lips set in a thin, tense line. Dawn noticed the same tension in her shoulders, and the tiny vein that popped out in her forehead. Willow licked her lips, took a deep breath and kept staring.

"Are you OK?" Dawn asked gently, although she already knew the answer. Willow hadn't done much magic recently, except for that fiasco during the crypt fight, and she hadn't been too thrilled when Dawn had suggested this spell. "I mean, if you don't want to help, I could probably do it on my own. I did before."

"No," Willow said quickly. "No, it's too dangerous for you to do alone. And this is the best way for us to find Spike. So we need to do this. Now. We need to do this now."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."

Willow grimaced. "Maybe I am. It's just -- I've been staying away from the magic thing since the whole memory spell went kablooie, and ..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook herself. "Never mind. Can you, ah, hand me the herbs, please?"

Dawn obliged, and Willow spread the powdery substances over the map. She picked up her Charm of Atlas and rubbed her thumb over the tiny jewel imbedded in the hilt. "Now, Dawn, remember that I'm taking the bulk of this on myself. I'll say the chant and do the spell. All you have to do is think about Spike, so we keep the magic focused on finding him. Understand?"

"Yeah, I know. You've only told me a zillion times." Dawn reached out slowly and closed her fingers over Willow's free hand. "Are you ready?"

For an answer Willow dangled the charm over the map, closed her eyes and recited the spell. Dawn concentrated hard on Spike, thinking about the night they had broken into the magic shop. The two of them, cross-legged on the cold floor, hunched over Giles' notebook. She focused on hearing his voice ... so they sent the Key to her in the form of a sister ... That had been a tough night. Earth shattering. After that, nothing had stayed the same. But she was glad, looking back, Spike had been with her when she had learned the truth.

Dawn became so absorbed in her memories that she only vaguely noticed the tiny whirlwind form on the map, and the jewel that glowed brightly, casting a eerie green light over everything. Just like before, the charm suddenly shot across the map, and it pointed at a spot just outside downtown. The whirlwind continued to spin madly.

"Crawford Street," Willow muttered. "Of course, at the old mansion."

"The what?" Dawn asked.

"Where Spike, Dru and Angel lived after Angel turned. Remember?"

"I actually wasn't around then, but, yeah, I remember." Dawn nodded at the pendant. "Is it supposed to do that? I mean, just stay there? When I did the spell, the herbs went poof, and then there was the whole stink factor ..."

"This is what's supposed to happen," Willow said with a small smile. "If you keep your energies focused, you can hold the spell for hours. But that's, well, kind of unnecessary in this case cause we've found him now and --"

"Willow, look!" Dawn pointed frantically at the map. "The pendant. It's ... it's moving!"

Willow looked, and it took all her magical discipline to stay focused and keep the spell from exploding. Dawn was right. The pendant was slowly making its way up Crawford street. They watched, mesmerized, as it inched across downtown, passed the old high school and entered the town cemetery.

Dawn licked her dry lips and said, in a small voice, "The cemetery? Didn't Buffy say that's where she would be patrolling tonight?"

#

The fight quickly became strenuous, her opponents more skilled than in several weeks, their attack more coordinated, their punches hitting home with more frequency. She stumbled back into a headstone and tumbled over it backward, but her quick reflexes allowed her to roll to her feet with fists up.

Now this felt good. The pain and struggle, the thrill of edging so close to death. The intoxicating scent of vampire dust and her own blood, mixed with the cemetery's stale fragrance of death. Something dark inside her sang out and pushed to the surface, overtaking her senses, bringing everything into sharper focus. She became so aware of everything. Every blade of grass, every moonlight-drenched leaf.

She didn't fight the battle haze as she had in her younger days, when she feared losing herself in its seductive freedom. No, now she welcomed it. It's why she patrolled every night, for hours on end ... for a few seconds of this blissful release from her gray reality.

"Come on, then," she taunted her attackers. "Unless you're too tired already and would rather run away."

The vampires, five of them this evening, took her up on her offer and charged all at once. She sensed a sixth vamp behind her, but he hadn't moved in several minutes, preferring to watch under the cloak of darkness. She would worry about him later.

Buffy ducked under the first vampire's swing and stabbed her stake upward into his heart. Two others got behind her and grabbed her arms, holding her immobile while a third approached. She kicked out with both feet at that vamp, then rammed her arms together, bringing her captives with her. They banged into each other head first and fell limply into the grass. She staked them both. Three down...

The last two charged her from either side. She stepped back at the last second, and they collided where she had been standing, their arms and legs entangled. She staked one, but the other slammed his fist into her face. Blinding pain exploded behind her eyes, and she reeled. The vamp punched again, and she fell onto her back, dazed, and she felt her stake being wrenched from her hand.

So this is how it ends, she thought with calm detachment, as the vampire raised her own weapon, ready to plunge it into her chest. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to move. Finish it. Send me back now. Please.

She closed her eyes, ready for her second release from life, but it didn't come. Instead, she was assaulted by a lungful of dust, and her stake dropped into the grass by her hand. Buffy's eyes snapped open, to see the sixth vampire, the one who had been watching, leaning over her, holding out his hand.

Suddenly released from her immobility, Buffy's fingers closed around her stake and she grabbed the vampire's wrist, only to throw him to the ground. He grunted at the impact. She rolled over to straddle him and stabbed downward.

"Buffy, no!"

The words startled her. She knew that voice. Buffy stopped her killing thrust just as the stake pierced his skin. Blood welled around the wound, soaking into the black T-shirt, but neither vampire nor Slayer noticed as she finally met his wide blue eyes. At first, the words wouldn't come. She could only stare. Unbelieving, shocked, the only sound between them her ragged breaths. He looked so different, with the dark brown hair, and through her battle haze, she hadn't recognized him. Then he groaned in pain, his eyes squinting shut, and the spell broke. Buffy found her voice, small and far away to her own ears.

"Spike?"

#

TBC ...

The plot thickens! Please let me know what you think.