Title: Abandoned, chapter 11
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: OK, I admit to being way too late in posting this chapter. Bad, bad Jennifer!

#

While Xander, Anya and Willow remained at the magic shop and brainstormed on ways to defeat a vampire army and thus avert an apocalypse Buffy walked Dawn home. Rain sprinkled, not even hard enough to get them wet. Dim shadows of trees stretched like elastic across Rodello Drive, and the sisters walked, hand in hand, in silence. Buffy didn't mind the lack of conversation. Spending this time with Dawn, knowing that it might be their last time together, meant more than any words.

Dawn's hand felt small and warm. Buffy squeezed her fingers lightly, and they smiled at each other. Then they reached the front door and went inside. Dawn threw her backpack onto the couch and wandered back to the kitchen as Buffy pulled out the weapons chest. Before she could even open the lid, she heard Dawn scream and went running.

She found her sister behind the kitchen island with a spatula in hand, facing a small man in a grey tailored suit, who looked not in the least bit fazed by Dawn's reaction. Buffy groaned. It was Whistler. What was he doing here, in her own house? And how had he gotten in? The refrigerator was open behind him, and he was tossing a bottle of water from hand to hand. Buffy squeezed Dawn's shoulder, and Dawn relaxed but didn't drop her spatula.

"You're raiding our refrigerator" Buffy said. "Now this looks familiar."

"Your fridge is worse than the Watcher's." Whistler made a show of sneering at his loot. "What is this? Water? Water is for bathing, not drinking. Where's the good stuff?"

"We don't, as a rule, keep alcohol in this house," Buffy retorted. "We also don't make a habit of having over weaselly demons who convince boyfriends to skip town."

"Feel the love in this room." Whistler snorted, returned the water to the refrigerator and shut the door. "You should be thanking me. If it weren't for my intervention, you can guarantee that you'd have been running to the vamp at every turn, letting him do your dirty work. That path leads to only one place: Back to the grave." He grinned. "But look at you now. All tough and Slayer-y. Ready to beat the crap out of me. Just like the old days."

Dawn looked perplexed. "Who is this guy?"

Before Buffy could answer, Whistler stepped forward with hand extended. "I'm sorry. I forgot my manners. I'm Whistler, demon extraordinaire and a messenger for the Powers. You must be the Key."

Dawn scowled and folded her arms in a pointed refusal to shake hands. Buffy grinned. That was her sister, all right. Stubborn and sullen to the last. Whistler withdrew his hand with a shrug.

"What makes you think I'm the Key?" Dawn asked.

"For one thing, you're practically radiating power. More so than even your red-headed wicca friend. Only the Key could have that much mystical strength. And for another, you weren't here a couple of years back, when the whole Acathla thing went down ... but, you were. I'm remembering it both ways. It's very confusing."

Dawn smirked. "Well I'm happy to be the source of your confusion. I'm sure I could generate some more if you'd like."

"Funny, kid. But we don't have time." He set both palms on the counter and leaned toward them, all business. Dawn's shoulders tensed under Buffy's hands. "You have about an hour, give or take, until the beginning of the end of the world, and you're still missing some information."

"But I'm sure you're here to fill me in," Buffy prompted.

"There are three parts to du Lac's spell. First, the spell itself. There's gotta be a focal point, a vampire who channels the magic through himself and into the Hellmouth."

"The Big Man," Buffy said. "And you're wasting our precious time with things we already know."

"Second," Whistler continued, ignoring Buffy's barb, "there are the other vampires. They're there for two purposes, to provide energy for the spell and to serve as food. Whatever comes out of the Hellmouth is going to be hungry, and if it doesn't feed quickly, it will die of starvation. Flesh of the undead makes for a good meal for things like that."

"Eew, gross," Dawn muttered, echoing Buffy's thoughts.

"So what's the third?" Buffy asked.

"The blood-letting. The gateway won't open unless a vampire is bled dry and all that blood is fed into the Hellmouth. Of course, the lucky vamp turns to dust when nothing is left in his veins, so there's a very short list of volunteers for that job. I bet you can guess who drew the short straw."

"Spike," Buffy answered, and Whistler nodded. She sighed and rubbed her hands over her eyes. Spike had risked his life to bring her vital information, and instead of thanking him, she had pushed him away, right into the hands of the enemy. Her own selfish, holier-than-thou attitude was about to get him killed. The man who had protected Dawn, who had loved Buffy even when she had rejected him. Who had made Buffy feel again for the first time since her resurrection.

Funny how only a couple of years before, she would have gleefully held the knife that slit Spike's wrists. Now the thought of his death brought an acute sadness, and an anger that he would dare to leave her again.

Dawn turned a fierce glare on Whistler. "We won't let Spike die."

"That's the whole idea, kid."

"Hold it," Buffy interrupted, and faced Dawn. "There is no 'we' in this. You are not coming anywhere near the Hellmouth. Remember, we already covered this at the magic shop."

"That was before, but they're going to hurt Spike. Now it's personal."

"I won't put you in danger."

"Come on, Buffy. I'm as old as you were when you were called to be Slayer. Plus, I'm the Key. Remember? Just a second ago, Whistler was talking about how powerful I am. Even more powerful than Willow. And I've been doing spells. I worked with Willow on that locator spell to find Spike."

"This is way more serious than a locator spell."

"With Tara gone, Willow will need other backup. She hasn't channeled heavy magic for several weeks. She told me what happened while you guys were cleaning out a vamp nest only a few nights ago. She can't do this on her own." Dawn grabbed hold of Buffy's shoulders, as she only did at her most serious. "Admit it, Buffy. You need me there. You can't risk failure just to keep me safe because if you lose, I'll die anyway."

"She has a point," Whistler said.

"Oh shut up." Buffy rubbed her eyes again. She was definitely developing a headache. "Fine. You can come, Dawn, to help Willow with whatever she needs. But you stay close to her, and at the first sign that things might be falling apart, you run. Got it?"

Dawn grinned. "Got it. Um, what about him?" she asked, nodded toward Whistler. "Is he gonna fight the good fight, too?"

"Hey, standing right here," Whistler said. "And for the record, I'm not allowed to join in the battle. I've done all I can. Now it's up to you." With one last smirk, he retreated to the back door and stepped outside, then looked back at the two sisters. Behind him, the rain fell, but still the western sky seemed on fire in brilliant reds and oranges. "Get the vamp out in one piece, OK? He's evil and annoying, and the cockiest bastard I've ever met, but he has one redeeming trait -- he'd do anything for you two, and that puts him in the good guy camp. He'd die for you. I hope you'd do the same for him."

With that, Whistler was gone. Dawn looked blankly at the door, then at Buffy.

"He said Spike was evil. I don't think he's evil."

Buffy pondered that for a moment, then nodded. "I think you're right. He's amoral, and he's done downright stupid things, but he's not evil. Not anymore."

"Not since he fell in love with you."

"I guess that means I'm a good influence," Buffy said with a lopsided smile. She felt like laughing and crying, all at the same time, but held it in. The past 24 hours had been a roller-coaster of emotion, ever since Spike's return to Sunnydale. How had he wormed his way inside her, after she had spent so much energy and so many years pushing him away?

Dawn asked, in a small voice, "Do you love him back?"

This time, Buffy couldn't contain her laughter, and it exploded forth with a touch of the hysterical. "You're the second person tonight to ask me that."

"And?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. He left town before I had a chance to find out. And if he dies tonight ..."

"He won't," Dawn said firmly. "We're getting him out."

"Right. We will get him out." Buffy pulled Dawn into a fierce hug, wiped away a couple of tears, and said, "Let's get out things and head out. The others are waiting."

#

At sunset, the first small packs of vampires snuck out of the mansion. They headed in different directions in groups of four or five, small enough to escape notice, all headed to the old high school. The Big Man hung back until the last of his horde had left, and he kept his main generals and his most precious prisoner with him. They had Spike on the numbingly cold floor in handcuffs.

Spike worked his raw wrists at the metal but couldn't squeeze his hands through. He felt flushed, coursing with life from the blood they had given him not an hour ago. Human blood. He had grown accustomed to pigs blood from the butcher's shops, but it tasted like ashes when compared with the real thing. Ambrosia is what they had fed him. It made him feel strong, powerful. Yet still unable to free himself of the damned handcuffs.

"Get him up," the Big Man ordered, and two burly vampires lifted Spike by his armpits. "We have a date at the Hellmouth. I would hate to be late."

As before, Spike refused to cooperate and allowed his muscles to go lax, forcing the vamps to drag him outside into the rain. They threw him in the backseat of a black SUV and took their seats on either side of him. No chance for escape there, cuffed and trapped. The Big Man took the front passenger seat and another slid into the driver's seat.

The trip took only a couple minutes by car, but it seemed even shorter. Before he knew what was happening, Spike found himself being dragged out to face the burned-out school. The crumbling walls, once so pristine, now were scorched black, and scraps of metal and wooden beams littered the muddy grounds. Vampires milled around like so many ants and, one by one, entered through a hole that gaped like a black mouth, but it might have once been a real doorway. Spike's guards dragged him toward the same entrance.

They passed the charred skeleton of an enormous serpent, turned a corner, and entered the place Spike recognized as the former library. He remembered the last time he had been here. Buffy had averted an apocalypse that night, too, but he remembered the event more for his discovery that despite the chip, he could still harm demons. Buffy and the gang had faced only three nasties that night. Now the room was filled past capacity, all the occupants in game face, waiting for the final act.

Spike's guards uncuffed him and chained him to a wall near the jagged chasm of the Hellmouth, then left, giving him plenty of time to get his bearings. Several portable battery-powered lamps were planted around the room, creating more than enough light. He could see far enough to notice that the cavelike expanse had only once exit, not counting the numerous holes in the roof. Rainwater dripped in, falling on everything and making it glitter in an unearthly way.

Somehow, the scene looked familiar, like he should know this. Rain, leaking through the roof, spraying across the crowd ... his dream. He had dreamed this, but it had been at the Bronze. Dawn, with her eyes glowing emerald green, had cast spells; and a seductive Buffy had danced with him, her wet dress clinging to all the right curves -- before she had staked him.

What did it mean? Had the Powers been warning him? Spike thought the danger of Buffy killing him had past with the near staking in the cemetery. But perhaps the worst was still to come.

And where was she? The Slayer should have been there by now, busting in on the party and making all the bad guys dusty. Then again, she did tend to wait until the last second, appearing in a nick of time. Bloody annoying it was, but heroes did things like that.

Spike watched as the crowd nearest to him parted and the Big Man walked in, a mammoth-sized book tucked under his arm. With his back to Spike, he laid the volume on a flat outcropping of rock, opened to a specific page and glanced at his watch.

"Well now," he said with a smile over his shoulder for Spike, "I think it's time we begin."

#

The gang had been surprised to see Dawn return with Buffy to the magic shop, but the tension left Willow when she found out she would have backup, and Dawn puffed out her chest in pride. She had finally earned what she had yearned for, after so many years. She got to be an official Scooby and help save the universe, instead of contributing to its destruction.

After Buffy relayed what Whistler had said, Xander and Anya went back to gathering together supplies, and Willow drew Dawn away to talk magic. Buffy couldn't tear her eyes from the pair, huddled close at the table. Nightmare scenarios raced through her mind. What if something happened to Dawn, and Buffy couldn't reach her in time? What if they saved the world but Buffy lost her only real family? Such a victory would never justify the price.

As she watched, feeling as though her little sister was about to lose her last shred of innocence, broad hands spread over her shoulders from behind and started to massage. Buffy sighed and leaned into the touch, her concerns forgotten for a few treasured moments. Xander had such soothing hands.

Buffy murmured, "Better hope Anya doesn't see you touching another woman like this."

"Anya is busy collecting holy water and stakes. I was just getting in her way." He dug his fingers into her muscles. "You're so tense. Worried about Dawn?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"She'll do fine. I mean, we all survived years of demon slaying ... well, except for you, and we brought you back so that doesn't count."

"Oh, thank you so much," Buffy said in mock sarcasm.

Xander chuckled. "My point is that Dawn will get get through just fine, especially as she's with all of us. Willow and I will stay close. I promise."

Buffy smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Xander."

"And what about ... Spike?"

"What about him?"

"I don't mean to push, but if ... no when we get him out of there, what then? Are the two of you going to start ... dating, or something?"

Buffy smiled grimly. "That thought just scares the crap out of you, doesn't it?"

Xander's hands stopped for a moment, then continued to work their magic. "Yeah, I guess it does. I mean, I'll deal with whatever you want, but he's still a soulless vampire who has tried to turn us all into a meal on several occasions. It'd take some getting used to. But Dawn seems to like him, and so does Anya. Willow's on the bubble, but she'd support you, too. That's what friends do."

"What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?"

"Just keep being Buffy, and that's enough."

Buffy couldn't think of how to answer that, so she simply turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his shoulder. Then with a regretful sigh, she stepped away and addressed the group. "We can't waste anymore time. We have to get going. Wil, are you and Dawn ready to go?"

"We're ready," Willow said, and Dawn gave the thumbs up.

"Anya, got everything you need?"

"Holy water ... stakes ... combustible, vampire-charring powder. Check. Check. Check." As she ticked off each item, she heaved another backpack onto the floor, each one puffed up like an overstuffed pillow. "It's all there, just like you asked. But I'm not carrying it."

#

Their trek across town proved uneventful, if not dry, much to Buffy's surprise. The muddy, debris-strewn yard outside the school also was empty of vampires. Buffy, with stake in hand and Dawn at her elbow, kept scanning the scene, trying to see through the rain and the dark. If the Big Man had Spike as his hostage, he must have guessed the Slayer would show. So where was the trap?

"No guards?" Xander said, while tossing a small bottle of holy water between his hands. "This is creepy. And wrong. This is very wrong."

"They must all be inside," Willow said. "I mean, the Big Man is going to want everyone he has by the Hellmouth."

"I guess," Xander answered, but he didn't sound convinced.

They approached the building warily and entered. With its wrecked roof, the interior provided little shelter from the storm. Buffy's soaked clothes clung to her in uncomfortable ways, but she tried to forget that and focus on the important things: Apocalypse, Spike, saving the world. Yet again.

Chanting echoed down the halls, the words muffled through so much concrete and rock. The seductive rhythm of it sunk into them, and Buffy noticed her friends walking in time to its beat.

"I wish they'd shut up," Dawn said, and wrapped her arms around herself.

No one answered.

They passed the body of the mayor, and Buffy knew they were close. The chanting had grown to a deafening level. They huddled together.

"You all know what to do ... are you ready for this?" Buffy asked.

They all nodded nervously. Anya opened their packs and passed around their weapons. Willow gently lifted a small, opaque orb from her coat pocket.

"Remember, Buffy," Willow said, "We'll only be able to hold your force field for a few minutes at most. Our own will hold just fine, but because you'll be moving farther away from the orb ..."

"I know. I'm on a deadline."

Willow nodded and licked her lips.

Buffy looked at her sister. "Ready, Dawn?"

For an answer, Dawn engulfed her in an embrace. "Be careful. And get Spike out in one piece, OK?"

"I will." Buffy stroked Dawn's hair for a moment, then pulled away. "All right then. Let's do it."

They marched around the last corner and into the rocky expanse that used to be the library. Light flooded even the deepest recesses, making the room bright as day. Buffy blinked to adjust her vision, then gaped. Vampires packed the room, wall to wall, numbering well over the hundred Willow had predicted. None had noticed the Scoobies yet, as they all faced the jagged crack in the rock, chanting and swaying in time. Green mist spilled out from the Hellmouth.

Then, through the mass of bodies, Buffy spotted her target. Not a few feet from the Hellmouth, Spike was immobilized against the wall. His eyes slid toward the group and met Buffy's for an instant before darting away. Despite the bad situation, Buffy felt a wash of relief. Spike was still alive and seemed in possession of all his blood. They weren't too late.

Behind her, Willow and Dawn finished chanting their own spell, and suddenly around them Buffy sensed a wall of energy that make the tiny hairs on her arms stand on end.

"Force field is a go," Willow said, her voice strained.

But Buffy hardly heard. Her attention riveted to a small man standing before Spike ... no, a child. Buffy shiveredas she recalled the Anointed One. The boy held a knife in his hand, raised it above his head and yelled out something Buffy couldn't understand. Then he slid the knife across Spike's neck. Blood began to flow, dripping onto the floor, sliding toward the Hellmouth as though drawn by a magnet. Spike slumped forward.

"NO!" Buffy screamed.

The chanting stopped. All eyes turned toward them.

Behind her, Anya said, "Oh, now we're in trouble."

#

TBC ...