Chapter Nine --Everything Passes


December 21, Thursday

Two nights had passed uneventfully. Evidently keeping Spike off the street had been a good idea. The Slayer's garden had been mercifully free of grisly gifts, and no disemboweled corpses had been left with cryptic messages written in blood. Just the regular amount of mayhem and random bloodshed in the darker sections of town.

I'd spent my time calling in favors from everybody I could rib up for info. All my usual stoolies were either clammed up or gone South. Demontown was closed up tight, the only exception being The SIlver Stake. It was looking kinda empty, too. Even the tourist trade seemed to have dropped off. Maybe they were spending the holidays with their little spawn in Omaha.

The smart ones were laying low, hoping the shadow harvester would give them a pass by. Daylight Sunnydale was, as usual, oblivious to most of the goings-on, or maybe a half-demon's murder just didn't matter to them. They were busily spending money and decorating for the holidays.

Andrew had been right. It was a subtle pattern, hints and violence, progressing to Sasha's murder. I had a feeling these last two days of quiet were the lull before the hurricane.

I'd been looking for connections, but nothing really made any sense. Just pointless, random violence. The kind of stuff that used to go on years ago, before the demons were civilized.

I thought back to the night I arrived back in Sunnydale and the hot coal fired at me from the dark. This killer was sending his message all right, loud and clear. I just needed to put the clues together and figure out what our was trying to tell us. He'd made a point of the deadline. Seven days. We were running out of time.



10:00 pm

I stopped by the office to check my messages. I hadn't talked to Anyanka since Monday. She was probably still pissed about me standing her up the other night, but damn, I hadn't hardly slept in 24 hours. Still felt kinda rocky, if the truth be told.

At least the DeSoto was out of hock thanks to a very generous retainer from Mrs. Giles. Damn good thing, because hoofing it all over Sunnydale ain't what it's cracked up to be.
I hit the button on the machine and listened to myself yammer on until other people's messages kicked in.

Please hold for a very important offer Yeah, right, real special, I bet.

Harris, got a hot tip on the Canadian playoffs. Call me. Ummhumm. Maybe later

This is your lucky day, Rex Harris At least get my frickin' name right! Geez!

Then, it got a whole lot less funny. An unfamiliar male voice purred, low and dangerous out of the cheap speaker.

Just thought you needed a little clue, Mr. Harris I could hear the holiday music playing over a speaker in the background and a buzzing voice speaking through an intercom.
He continued,
Tout s'en va
Tout Passes
L'eau coule, et la coeur oublie . There was a pause, then he continued, Catch me if you can. Au revoir, Slayer.
A sneering laugh was followed by the click of the machine.

Holy hell. This had to be our shadow man calling. This was the break we'd been waiting for. Proof. Of course it all led back to the Slayer and L.A. Revenge. Everything snapped into place, clear and deadly.

I snatched the tape out and shoved it into the pocket of my topcoat. No rest for the wicked tonight. She was gonna want to know about this right now.


I cruised to the Stake. It was late and the place was nearly deserted. ANyanka was on stage hitting the high notes. I wanted more than anything else to be able to crawl between her satin sheets and hide for a while. If we couldn't get this killer off the streets, though, nobody was going to be safe.

That green skinned palooka from Deathwok was still hanging around. I didn't like the way he was leering at Anya's cleavage. I hoped he wasn't planning on making this his latest Hollywood hang-out. He sure had everyone at the Stake jumping to his tune. Half the night crew had come in early and were fawning all over him. Not to mention the local polkiticos were making excuses for dropping around his table. I think I spotted the newly elected D.A., Levinson, giving Krevlorneswath the high sign through the cigar smoke.

Ah well, business before pleasure.

The Slayer was in her office, slouched behind her big desk. Her usually impeccable grooming was absent. The creamy silk of her blouse was marred by dark stains and tendrils of blonde hair had escaped her smooth chignon to hang limply in her eyes.
She crossed to stand in front of me, her arms crossed stiffly. I could see a wide ladder in her stocking. her eyes were raw, like she hadn't slept in a long while.




I think you should hear this.

I had a sick feeling in my stomach and it didn't get any better when I saw the look on the Slayer's face. The tape ran out, flapping quietly. Her face was drained of color and her huge eyes looked like black pits in her white face.

How could this happen, Xander? Buffy begged me, It's got to be some kind of sick joke.

What do you mean? We've got the evidence you wanted.

I'm saying Spike lied to me. He didn't die.

What? Who? Are you talking about Angelus?

She didn't answer me. She seemed to be locked up tight. Frozen. I knew just the bare bones of what had happened in L.A. I tried not to think too much about it, either. It had sounded to me like some kind of weird menage-a-trois that ended badly. Maybe it was time to bring out all the bodies and get the straight story.

What was that on the tape, Buffy? That... what was it, French stuff? Was it a some kind of a spell?

Not a spell. Just a reminder , she said, Everything vanishes, everything passes, water runs away and the heart forgets.

 Well, color me illiterate, but I didn't have a fucking clue what that had to do with anything, except that she was upset as all hell over it. That was all she had to say about it, too.
I'm going to put Andrew on that pile of notes you salvaged from Dr. Meers. He owes me, big time. Dawn can ride herd on him, she said after a pause.

Look, maybe we're going at this all wrong.

Wrong? Trying to save him? She glared at me with angry, narrow eyes.

No, I just mean maybe we're not doing him or us any favors keeping him locked up. Whoever is screwing with you isn't gonna make a move while his favorite patsy is incommunicado.

So you're suggesting, what? Turn him loose so this killer can make his point? What if he goes after Anya, Xander? Or Dawn? That thought would give me nightmares for weeks. She hadn't seen Sasha's body and I wished I hadn't.

She turned away and hit play on the tape again. The low voices murmured and she seemed to hear something interesting in the background noise. She played the tape again.

Stay here, Xander. I'm going out for a while.
Mind if I catch the show?

She shrugged and turned to open the sliding panel behind her desk.

I was getting quietly sloshed an hour later, when I was interrupted by one of the vamp security boys holding a white cloth to a bloody gash on the back of his head.
Where's the Slayer?

Out. What's going on?
He's gone.

She was gonna have my guts for garters. My stomach sank to my shoes. Get your guys, Carlos. I'll find the Slayer and give her the news. I took a deep breath, Bring him in healthy.

Hells bells, Carlos and his crew had a much better chance of stumbling up on him than I did. I pointed the DeSoto toward Restfield Cemetery and thanked my lucky stars i wasn't still hoofing it.

Then, I heard the scream of police sirens.


Music: David Sandborn, A Tear for Crystal