Chapter Two

The small village of West Haven had largely been ignored by anyone who didn't live there; it was just a jumble of shops and houses to anyone who had driven through it on their way to Sunnydale. It was so close in distance that many out-of-towners actually mistook it for part of Sunnydale; the penniless slums part of Sunnydale. It had originally looked like a tiny desert holiday camp, filled with dirty children and tired parents but now; it had grown into a town not dissimilar to Sunnydale itself. More buildings had been built, more shops and houses, more roads and walkways, more jobs, more people. There was no disputing what had caused the growth of West Haven; it was the mysterious disappearance of Sunnydale itself.

The giant crater that now stood where the entirety of Sunnydale had stood had become an urban legend in the months since it happened. Visitors from all across America had journeyed to take a look at the spot where an entire town disappeared from existence and with West Haven being the closest town to Sunnydale; there had been a need for more hotels and hostels and campsites. The money pouring into West Haven from the tourists had been a life saver; there were no more dirty children running around in the dust and sand, there were no more tired parents running after them and working to pay the rent.

A large building stood in the middle of town, a tribute to Sunnydale. Inside were small stalls selling t-shirts and mugs bearing the name of the town that vanished as well as information officers and a science section explaining that Sunnydale had been built on an old system of mines and it had only been a matter of time before it crumbled away into the poor foundations it had been built upon. Nobody believed it, they preferred the supernatural and the unexplainable to logical explanations and there were always plenty of stereotypically toothless elderly men sitting on street corners willing to tell anyone who listened that there had never been any mining in this part of California; there was nothing to mine for.

The only building that still stood separate from the new West Haven was the old church; it had never been occupied, there had never been a priest stationed there and so it was abandoned. The new buildings of West Haven were built on the other side of the town and soon the church had been forgotten; only remembered by the children who dared each other to enter it and by teenagers who hid in the shadows, secretly smoking and escaping their parents. It stood empty now, the morning sun blinking on the remaining coloured glass in the windows. Everyone in the town was already up having been woken by the small earthquake that had shaken the windows of their houses early that morning. The inhabitants of West Haven were no stranger to earthquakes; there had been plenty over the years and so they just carried on with their lives.

If any of the children had ventured over to the abandoned church shortly after the earthquake, they would have witnessed a miracle. As the earthquake rattled the windows, a strange light had emanated from the windows and now, lying on the floor of the church was a half-naked man. It was as if he had appeared from nowhere, his short brown hair had traces of bleach running through it and it was in sleepy disarray. He blearily opened his eyes and sat up awkwardly; he breathed in a sharp intake of air and began coughing uncontrollably. His eyes were a blur of confusion and the frown etched on his face only advertised his confusion more, he lifted a hand to his bare chest and placed it over his heart. He inhaled another lungful of air, his mouth open in shock as he looked around the room; he recognised it as a church immediately but didn't have a clue what he was doing there. It was only then that he realised he was lying in a patch of bright sunlight; it was pouring through the glassless windows and bathing the room in light. He jumped up in a panic and ran for the nearest shadowy corner before realising he must have been lying there for a while, he brushed the dust from his black trousers and stepped out tentatively into the sunlight.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, relishing the feeling of the warm sun on his skin. Vague memories stirred within him; memories of sitting in a green park writing poetry, memories of a barn and a beautiful brunette, he brought his hand to his head as he was bombarded with his life. Short snippets of collected memories; blood and screaming, pain and hurt but then feelings of love and acceptance.

He dragged open the heavy wooden doors and stepped out into the sunlight, the town up ahead looked busy but he walked in anyway, ignoring the stares and heading for the main road out. It was then that he spotted the huge building in the centre of town, the name Sunnydale emblazoned across it. He frowned and stepped inside; he didn't understand what had happened for there to be a building dedicated to his town in a completely random place like this. He walked around, glancing at the merchandise and information areas; he walked over and grabbed a free leaflet and flicked through it, stopping at the centre page which featured an aerial photograph of the crater.

"Buffy?" he whispered, dropping the leaflet and running out of the building and down the street. Cars were driving in the direction of Sunnydale while others made their way on foot; he couldn't help his curiosity and joined them. Somehow aching to see what had become of his home with his own eyes, although he still didn't understand how he had made it back.

The entire hole had been cordoned off with police tape and wire but that didn't stop the more adventurous visitor leaning over as far as they could to see how deep it went. He stood there among the people, who, as far as he was concerned, had come to witness death and felt sick, he had to get away from here but he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn't know if Buffy and Dawn had survived the destruction of Sunnydale, he didn't understand why he was back and he didn't understand why he was no longer a vampire.

He felt lost; he didn't know if he still had vampire strength or vampire hearing, was he supposed to be a normal human being from now on? He needed to find Buffy; he walked away from the crowd and wandered through the car park, thinking of where he could go. Buffy was the Slayer, she would need to go where the evil was. The only place he could think of was Cleveland, the site of the second Hellmouth; Giles would surely have made her go there. He looked around the empty car park and looked around the cars, checking for any with open windows or unlocked doors. He grinned as he found one with the driver's window rolled all the way down and laughed at the trusting nature of Americans en masse, reaching in he unlocked and opened the door and with a quick pull on the wiring, the ignition had started and he was on his way out of there.

He sped off down the main road hoping he wasn't spotted, he knew he would only have a few hours before the car was reported missing and he would have to get off the road. There was no way he could drive to Ohio in a line of stolen cars; the police would catch up with him eventually. He had to somehow find money for a flight to Ohio or to buy a car; the thought of flying made him smile. It had always been too risky for vampires to fly but he was no longer a vampire; it was too bizarre to comprehend. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it pumping in his chest, it was a feeling he had forgotten but now it swelled within him, threatening to burst him open. He glanced quickly around the car and spotted a brown leather wallet stuffed into the driver's door; he pulled it out and opened it, trying to keep his hands on the wheel. The signs for the airport were starting to appear, he pulled out what notes he could find. There wasn't enough but he would have to try; he took the turning for the airport.

He parked the car in the arrivals area and began to count the money; there was only fifty four dollars and some loose change; it wasn't enough. He left the car and walked around the huge building to the departures lounge, a number of currency booths and a booth for each airline company lined the wall opposite the check-in area. The room was filled with people, making him nervous, he hadn't been in such a large group for a long time and he felt overwhelmed. He shook his head as if to clear it and walked over to the first desk; the blonde woman smiled hollowly at him, throwing him off for a second.

"I need to get to Ohio on fifty four dollars," he said, amazed at how awkward he felt now he was one of them.

"Wow, you're British," she grinned widely, her personality beaming through. "I've never met a real-life British person before,"

"I really need to get to Cleveland," he said desperately, the girl's smile fell at his brusqueness. He felt guilty; he hadn't meant to be rude; he frowned at his feelings. He had always been ruthless and rude in the past, these changes had gone deep.

"You won't get a flight anywhere for fifty bucks," she said. "Sorry, sir,"

"Never mind," he mumbled, starting to walk away.

"Can you ride a bike?" she called out, he turned around and walked back to her, smiling at her brazen nature. He liked her. "Sorry, I just mean my boyfriend is selling his bike; it's a heap of junk and it'll probably fall apart on you but he'd take fifty,"

"Will it get me to Ohio?" he asked.

"Probably not but what other choice do you have, right?" she smiled, he nodded and she scribbled down her address on a piece of paper, handing it over. "Tell him Kia sent you about the bike,"

"Thanks Kia," he said, folding the piece of paper and stuffing it into his pocket.

"What's your name?" she asked innocently, he paused for a moment. "You do know, right?"

"Yeah, it's Spike," he said, frowning slightly at the confusion he had felt. Was he still Spike or should he now go back to William, now he was one of them?

"Okay, Spike," she said, sounding the word with bite. She liked it, it sounded dangerous and oh-so-British. "Tell him to give you a shirt too," He grinned at her and walked out of the building and back into the sunlight; he sighed, there was no way he was getting to Ohio any time soon. He slipped his coins into a newspaper vendor and pulled one out; 21st September 2004. He had been gone for over a year, he wondered if Buffy had forgotten about him or if she had moved on, gone back to Angel.

A courtesy airport bus trundled up to the entrance and a hive of people disembarked, Spike looked around quickly and jumped on. With a grumble and a start, the bus lurched forwards and started on, back towards West Haven. He dug Kia's note out of his pocket and looked down at the address, sighing deeply. He thought he would have been able to sit back and marvel at the miracle that was his heartbeat, his ability to walk in the sun, the fact that he was here at all. His head was filled with her, Buffy and the Nibblet; he was drowning in her blonde hair. Damn, even seeing the whelp right now would soothe his crippling feeling of being completely alone. He was lost in his thoughts when the bus screeched to a dead stop outside of the Sunnydale building in West Haven; he stepped out and began searching for Clover Street.