Chapter 37: Darkness and Shadows

Buffy ran until she couldn't breathe.  She collapsed next to a big tree and took a minute to survey her surroundings.  Nothing looked familiar to her.  That was a very, very bad thing.  When A.J was younger he would constantly bug Buffy to take him on walks through the woods that surrounded Sunnydale so he could see the animals and play.  As a result, Buffy knew most of the woods very well.  And none of her current surroundings looked familiar.  This meant that she was either no where near Sunnydale, or in an unexplored part of the forest. Neither of those ideas was particularly appealing right now. 

Just then Buffy heard a stick snap and break.  Gulping down some more air, Buffy pushed to her feet and began to run again.  Her only thought was to escape, and so far the best plan she could think of was to head south and hope to find someone willing to help a wildly disheveled blonde girl.  Buffy didn't need a mirror to tell her that she looked frightening.  She could feel the small sticks and twigs in her hair and feel the mud and sweat caked to her face.  Another bead trickled down her back but Buffy pushed herself harder, faster. 

Moving fast was essential, but also painful.  Her lack of shoes left her stocking feet open and vulnerable to the thorns, rocks and other horrors of the forest.  When Buffy found a small road made by ATV's she almost wept with relief.  Taking a moment, Buffy sat on a rock and gingerly examined her feet.  Both were caked with mud and dirt, and Buffy could feel blood oozing through several of the deeper punctures.  Suppressing a whimper, Buffy pulled the thorns out.  After she was sure that all thorns and rock pieces were gone, Buffy carefully pulled her socks back on.  She took another deep breath and followed the road.

A few hours later, Buffy was still following the faint road, hoping that it lead to some form of civilization.  Her newest fear was that she wouldn't find someone before the night.   Buffy really didn't want to end up out in the open all night.  All manner of creepy and scary things came out at night.  And although part of her brain knew that she was being ridiculous, Buffy couldn't help but equate Riley with the boogeyman, the worst of all night creatures.  Buffy would gladly face any number of fierce woodland creatures, as long as Riley didn't find her. 

Another big concern was food.  Buffy hadn't eaten since she ran from the house.  Her stomach was loudly announcing the fact that some sort of food was very necessary at this point in time.  All these problems and fears started to weigh on her as light began to fade fast.  Sunset was approaching. 

Buffy felt the fear claw up from her stomach and into her throat.  She used sheer willpower to force it back.  Panicking would do nothing for her right now.  She needed a clear, focused mind if she wanted to live.  And that was it; Buffy was fighting for her life, fighting for her right to live, and her survival.  Never in her life did she think this would happen.  And Buffy was scared, so scared of what might happen.  She was scared that Riley would find her, that she would remain forever lost in the woods, or that an animal would attack her.  These fears and more flashed though her mind in a gruesome slide show.  But Buffy stood up and again began to walk.  Because there was more than the fear coursing through her body was strength. 

She used it when her mom was sick, when she first began to be stalked by Riley and when Angel devastated her world.  Her strength and will to live, to see Spike smile, hear A.J laugh and watch her mom and Giles fumble through the dating game they thought she didn't know about, it pushed her on. 

And so onward she continued.  And when the day faded into night, Buffy found a small niche in the base of a huge tree.  Using branches and grass, Buffy made a small pallet to sit on while she waited for night to pass.  Buffy had no intention of sleeping, but she wanted a change to regain her strength.  She nibbled on some berries she had found and rested.  Somewhere out there, she knew, was Riley.  The dark might slow him down, but Buffy was sure that it wouldn't deter him. 

And if he found her, she would be ready to fight him. 

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Spike almost screamed with frustration.  As it was, he was on his fifth cigarette in as many minutes.  His brain wave about Maureen working with someone seemed like a sound theory, but he was hitting a wall about where they might have taken Buffy.  No luck at Riley's, or Maureen's and Spike had even cruised by Angel's and Drusilla's.  Nothing.  So now he was at the courthouse, looking through old property licenses and contracting bids.  Spike swore his eyes were going to start bleeding. 

On a sigh and an oath, Spike pushed back from the table.  He rubbed his eyes and promised himself that he would look into getting glasses.  Buffy had been nagging him about it for weeks.  It's not good for your eyes to have to squint at everything you read.  Promise me that you'll make and optometrist appointment.  And he had.  The day that she disappeared, Spike had made an appointment with Dr. Watkins.  He hadn't made it all the way there.  No, when he heard about Buffy, Spike had thought of little else.

And now, he was stumped.  Up against a dead end, a brick wall and any manner of unmovable objects.  After talking to Angel and confirming that he hadn't seen Buffy, Spike had run out of possible places to look under the obvious names.  For the past hour or so, he had been looking under a combination of Riley's and Maureen's or Angel's and Dru's names.  No luck.  Muttering another oath, Spike stood up and paced the small room.  The sunlight was fading quickly; the rays were dim as they passed into the small room.  Spike hated the thought of spending another night without Buffy.    It was unnatural. 

Spike almost had to laugh at that.  In such a short period of time, Buffy had become his center, his everything.  It was painful for him to be without her, and the thought of her in danger made his stomach roll greasily and twist into knots.  With new resolve and determination, Spike sat at the table again. 

Forty five minutes later, he hit pay dirt.  In the name of Maureen R. Winters.  It was a permit and contracts to build.  The address given was unfamiliar to Spike, so he dug out a map and looked it up.  It was on old house, built in the forest north of the town.  Accompanying the map were several newspaper articles dated back several decades.  The articles described several unexplained abductions in the vicinity of the house and woods.  Several theories were proposed, the most popular blaming the ghosts that haunt the house.  One article described the family that built the house as "worshiping Satan and all his works".  Another stated that it was the ghost of a vengeful bootlegger, killed and buried under the house where he hid his fortune. 

The rumors and theories were fanciful at best, but they all conveyed the same meaning; the house was haunted and was dangerous.  In a word, perfect.  Nobody in their right mind would go near it, and it was remote and private.  If someone was taken there, it would be a long time before they would be seen or heard. 

The more Spike thought about it, the more he was sure he found something.  Glancing out the window, he saw that night had descended.  It was inconvenient and a pain in the ass, but Spike decided to drive out there anyway.  The more time he spent looking for Buffy, the less time he spent in frustration. 

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Buffy shivered.  This sucks.  She supposed that she should be thankful.  At least she had some protection against the night.  Not nearly enough, though.  And it was very cold.  Funny thing, it being the middle of summer and everything.  Okay, brilliant plan, not working out so well.  Now what am I going to do? 

Millions of thoughts ran through Buffy's mind, but the only plausible idea she could fathom was to return to the freaky house and find some supplies.  And as much as she disliked the thought of going back to Hell House, there was no other way.  Without food, blankets or a way to start fire, Buffy knew she was as good as animal bait. 

Okay, time to face the ookiness of the House.  If I can just find some food and matches, I'll be good to go.  Oh, and if I can avoid psycho Maureen or crazy Riley, that'd be great.  Yeah.  Uh-oh, quoting "Office Space" probably won't help me right now.  Aright, mind, pull yourself together, dammit.  This is serious. 

Buffy giggled before she could stop herself.  The panic and stress of the situation was getting to her.  Hysteria was one precarious step away.  Already, Buffy could feel the burning sobs buried under the laughing façade.  She took several deep breaths until she felt somewhat calmer.  Her options were slim, and the only way to survive was to keep calm.  Later, when she was safe, she would collapse into tears.  Right now, however, she needed to go to the house, find food, matches and a blanket.  Her checklist firmly in mind, Buffy took another cleansing breath, and then purposefully strode back into the forest toward the house. 

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Spike cursed.  Whose bright idea was it to drive out here in the middle of the night?  Oh yeah, his.  Stupid sod. 

Lost again, Spike pulled to the side of the road and studied the road map carefully.  Finding that he should have taken a left and not a right, Spike cursed again and doubled back to rectify the mistake.  It had taken quite some doing to even get as far as he had.  The damn house must be buried in the middle of bloody forest.  How anybody in their right mind would voluntarily stay in such a place boggled Spike's mind.  The night sky was bright thanks to the moon, but it did nothing to dispel the shadows that blanketed every corner of the forest. 

It was downright creepy.  It reminded Spike of Ichabod Crane and Sleepy Hollow.  Not the movie, but the original story.  He could almost see it happening.  The poor sod on the horse, and the Headless Horseman chasing him down.  This would have been the perfect setting for the final scene.   Running for his life, Ichabod looks back through the waving branches and sees the ghostly specter behind him, grinning maniacally.  Sweat pouring down his back, Ichabod turns and urges his poor horse in a faster pace.  Faster, faster and faster still, but nothing can escape the Horseman's reach.  He sees an opportunity for blood, for retribution, for whatever, and he takes it.  Stalks his quarry as carefully and as skillfully as a lioness sizing up prey.  Because that's all he is, prey.  Let him run, try and escape, it only makes the capture that much sweeter, knowing that blind hope is the only driving force.  Ichabod runs until he sees no one, breathes a sigh of relief, he's made it.  Then BAM!  The Horseman strikes.  So much better when they don't expect it, when the panic is fading and the breath is coming freely.  Then the strike is that much more deadly, hope giving away to pure panic. 

Something darted out in front of Spike's car.  "Bloody fucking hell," he yelled, shaking out of his dark thoughts and jerking the wheel. 

The car responded and swerved violently to the other side of the road.  Spike immediately jerked the wheel back and the car fishtailed violently.  "Fuck, shit, son of a bitch," Spike said as he fought for control of the car.  He finally managed get control and to slow down. 

Pulling to the side of the road once again, Spike sat in his car and tried to calm down.  His heart was racing and his palms were sweating.  He gulped some air and waited for his hands and body to stop shaking. 

"I hate the bloody woods," he muttered. 

As his heart rate returned to normal, Spike started his car and turned on the a/c.  His hands were still far too unsteady to grip the wheel, let alone drive, so Spike sat and let the cool air blow on him. 

Something hit his car.  Curious, Spike turned his head and looked out the window.  And saw someone standing right next to his car.  It was too much for his abused nervous system.  Spike screamed in fright and instinctively scrambled away from it.  His mind was replaying his earlier thoughts about the Horseman and Spike's rational side took a flying leap out the window.  Fearing the boogieman and other horrors, Spike practically launched himself into the passenger's side of the car.  It wasn't until he heard laughing that he realized that he was cowering and screaming like Jamie Lee Curtis in a "Halloween" movie.  He stopped screaming and gulped air like a drowning victim.  Spike unlocked the door and opened it.  Cautiously, he stepped out of the sanctity of the car and into the eerie night. 

The specter was no longer standing at the driver's door.  Carefully, Spike crept around the car.  Looking around, he didn't see a sign of anybody, or anything.  A flash of color caught the corner of his eye and he whipped his head around.  Just as a body crashed in him. 

"Ooof," Spike grunted as he and the body fell to the ground. 

Spike landed on his back and a small curvy body fell on top of him.  A familiar body.  Intimately familiar. 

"Buffy?" Spike asked. 

"Hiya Spike.  Damn I'm glad to see you," Buffy chirped.  An instant later, she smashed her lips to his. 

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A/N: Siren's Song has been nominated for best AU at Shattered Flames.  Thanks so damn much to whoever nominated this story.  If you can spare a few minutes, go and vote at angelfire.com/fang/shattered_flames.  Thanks so much. 

Until next time, my pretties.