Lost
The old me would have run the bleedin' sign over. Welcome to Sunnydale. Where ignorance is still thriving like the weed you can never kill, choking your flowers and ruining the lawn. Where death wears high-heeled boots and perfume. Where the white hats drown in their own hypocrisy while they persecute and hunt demons like me. I didn't run over the sign because that would mean that the old Spike had come back to the Hellmouth.
I burned it down.
Watched the burning sign glow and smoke in the night as I lit my first cigarette in months before headed into town with its cheerful letters blazing behind me. It felt good. Not much had changed in my years of absence. Streets still ran the same directions. Same store fronts. The Magic Box was gone. Willy's place still reeked of booze and foreigners. It was a bit sparse on the clientele, but an interesting mix of demons passing through on vacation and a few demons here to stay. You can feel the Hellmouth beneath the city. Lends the town a certain je ne said quois that's both subtly mysterious and unmistakably evil. The idle chatter and smoke make me nostalgic for quiet afternoons in Blue Cats staring down into a pint and passing time with Leila. I shake off the memory. New Orleans is long gone.
First item of business was to get myself noticed. Didn't take too long. There were still some old familiar faces in the filthy room.
"Spike! You're back!" Clem was grinning through the folds on his face, his floppy ears bouncing slightly as he made his way across the room, drink in hand and the familiar smell of cheese puffs floating along with him. "How've you been, old pal?"
"Not bad." I flick open my lighter and start on my second cancer-stick. "What's happened in dear ol' Sunnyhell?"
"You missed the fight a few years back. It was something." His arms are doing the wave. I wonder if his species were supposed to look like that or if he had just let himself go. Never thought of that before. I was too wrapped up in my Buffy obsession to notice anything else. That only adds fuel to my rage. The bint had taken up too much of my life. I blink when I realize he is still describing the battle with the First Evil in some detail.
"What? What happened to Anya?" I couldn't have heard him right.
"Dead. Poor girl. Hardly anyone was left. It's a tragedy really." Clem sighs sadly and looks down at the drink in his hands.
Anya was dead. My head is spinning, trying to come to grips with everything that had changed. "Anyone else? Who's left?"
"There's the Slayer. And I heard that there's another Slayer in town now. Came in Monday I think. Xander, Willow, Dawn. I think the English guy went back home. It's been pretty quiet for about a year now. Just the usual demons and such."
"Tara?"
"Who?"
I frown impatiently. "Willow's girlfriend. Quiet little mouse of a girl."
"Oh." Clem's eyes light up when he remembers who she was. "Been dead for a long time now. Before the big evil even. I heard she was shot. A lot went down after that, scary stuff too. Poor Willow's never really been the same."
Now I'm reeling. I'd imagined them all, still here where I left them. Waiting and living out their mortal lives. I hadn't been gone that long. Not long enough for people to die. Why did I care? Another question I didn't have an answer for. Tara and Anya had been good. They had accepted me in their own way before the rest of the gang even looked at me any direction other than sideways.
"Dawn graduated from High School. The new one. They had to rebuild again. At least they put it on the other side of town this time, away from the Hellmouth." He shudders when he says it. "She's taking a few classes at UC Sunnydale and I see her on patrol with Buffy some times."
Patrol? Dawn on patrol? Dawn in college? My Dawn? I stop that train of thought, cutting it off at the pass. She wasn't my Dawn. She had never been my Dawn. She was just the Slayer's brat kid sister, no more, no less. I wasn't here to be friendly with the wildlife. I was here for the hunt. For the kill.
"Want me to tell her you're in town?"
That was my cue. What I'd been waiting for. Not quite as effective as nailing a dead puppy to their front door but I figure Angelus had covered all of those bases years ago. If Faith was here then the Slayers already knew I was coming and there wasn't any need to be dramatic. Didn't mean I couldn't be though. Old Spike would have stalked her, burst through windows, chased after her and never shut his mouth. That wasn't me anymore.
"No thanks, mate. Tell her myself." I try to keep my smile genuine, but it only sort of works and Clem can tell there's something wrong.
"What's happened with you, Spike?"
"Got the chip out." I throw in casually, just loud enough for listening ears to hear.
"That's great! I know you always hated that thing. What are you going to do now?" Sweet naive Clem.
"Figured I'd kill myself a couple of Slayers." I drop the unfinished cigarette to the ground and crush it with the toe of my boot. "Have some fun. Visit the old stomping grounds." He was still staring at me with a puzzled look on his face, as though trying to decide if he'd heard me right.
"So you're over your...in love with the Slayer phase?"
I laugh. It's cold enough to chill my own blood and a stillness settles over the bar. Voices hush and all ears tune to my voice when I continue. "Demons like me don't love, Clem. Just the chip is all. No chip now. Slayer made me her bitch. I mean to repay the favor." My voice is ice and I glance around quickly to make sure everyone got the message. There's something in the room that I haven't felt in years. Respect. And fear. I could learn to like this.
"Well. It's good to see you. Welcome home." Even the perpetually cheerful Clem seems flustered and dismayed.
I shrug and head out of the bar, having made a suitable impression and told a very loud-mouthed demon about my plans. A dark niche down the alley way offers a place to hide until I see Clem leave the bar and head down the street. Keeping a few yards behind, I tail him easily. He never even looks back.
We cross the town and enter one of Sunnydale's newer cemeteries. I fall back when he stops at a crypt, taking a seat on one of the benches and waiting nervously in the darkness. Still as death, I move into the deep shadows between the bushes and the crypt. Who or what was he waiting for? It had to be Buffy. I find it interesting that he knows her patrol routes.
I smell her before I see her. That same old lotion she always kept by her bed. It used to make her skin soft as silk, I remember that a little too clearly and shove the memory away as hard as I can. There was another scent as well, a darker, muskier aroma. People never think of it. How their smells mark them, identify them; every nuance of their smell makes them easy to find, easy to follow. From the blood beneath their skin to the shampoo they use, it gives each one of them an unmistakable signature. Soft footsteps sounded through the cemetery. Clem probably wouldn't see them until they were on top of him. Not the most observant of demons.
"Clem! What are you doing here?" It was Buffy's voice and it brought back a flood of memories I had tried desperately to forget.
"It's Spike. He's in town and I don't think he's himself at all." Clem sounds nervous.
"You've seen him?"
"Tonight at Willy's bar. Said he got the chip out and that he was here to kill you. Both of you actually."
Both. The unfamiliar scent must be Faith. It was a wonder Buffy hadn't chained her up in the basement or something. I resist the urge to peek around the crypt and catch a glimpse of the girl. I would see her soon enough.
"We've heard." New voice. Lower than Buffy's, more expressive. Sexy as hell. What is it with me and Slayers? It's sickening.
"Did he say anything? I know he likes to brag about his crazy plans. Anything at all? Do you know where he is?" That was my Buffy. All battle plans and strategies. Interrogate, exterminate. No finesse.
"I'm sorry, Buffy." I thought I could hear the slap of his skin folds as he shook his head. "That's all he told me. Although he did say he wasn't, you know, in love with you anymore."
"One bright spot in this whole ridiculous circus."
"He was in love with you, B? You didn't tell me." There's an edge to the playful jab. Something's there that I don't understand.
"I keep hoping it was all just a bad dream." Buffy's sigh was strained. "Let's split up and get this cemetery over with. I don't want to be out here longer than we have to."
"Sure thing, B. I'll take the north."
I listen to them head off in opposite directions. Clem shuffles out of the cemetery and back toward the bar. I felt stung by Buffy's words but not surprised. I was dirt. She'd made that point loud and clear on about a hundred occasions. I was nothing in her eyes. Anger was rearing its ugly head and making me impatient. I could go after Faith now, cut her off from Buffy and finish the job. I didn't want to. I wanted to savor this. I wanted Buffy to know she couldn't stop me.
My decision made, I creep through the bushes as Buffy sweeps through her section of the graveyard. Slipping along the wall, I leap onto one of the concrete blocks next to the gate. She hasn't seen me yet, heading my direction with her eyes trained on the graves at her feet. My lighter flares in my hand and I take one long draw from the cigarette, waiting for her to get closer. The glowing end arcs through the air, trailing ash, to land a few feet away from her. She stops, frozen in her tracks as her eyes slowly make their way up the wall.
I smirk. It felt good to smirk. Her face is as impassive as ever. Had I ever believed there had been anything gentle or kind behind that stone mask of hers? "Hello, cutie."
"Spike." Her grip on the stake in her hand tightens and she quickly glances around for Faith.
"She's on her way, Slayer."
"Nice coat. New?" She doesn't say what happened to the old one.
I take a moment to admire the duster hanging from my shoulders. "The old one just wasn't cutting it. Ever tell you where I got that one?"
"Where?" She was usually more talkative than this. Where were the quips and barbs she reserved for yours truly?
"The second Slayer I killed. Took it off her dead body." I get a response this time. Anger flashes through her eyes and I smile.
"And you're here to try to kill me. What makes you think you even have a chance?"
Another shrug. "Here for the other bird, actually. You're just for fun."
"Fun?" She sounds a little shocked.
"Fun, Slayer. Vampire here. It's what we do." I tip my head to one side, catching a glimpse of Faith across the cemetery. She's picked up her pace, seeing me on the wall. "Love to stay and chat about old times and such. Some other time. When you're dead maybe. You can't open that pretty little mouth of yours that way." Another grin and I've stepped off the wall backwards, landing in a crouch and heading off into the forest at an easy pace. She won't follow. She's unsure enough about what I'm doing, how I've changed, that she'll pull back. She'll want a strategy, she'll want to talk to Giles. Some things never changed.
First item of business is taken care of. The second is a little more mundane. Have to find a legitimate place of abode and get settled in. One good thing about my new life. No more cold crypts to call home. My faithful motorcycle is waiting just beyond the trees and I head back to the motel I checked into earlier that night.
The soul is squirming inside me like a parasite, hating the taunting, hating the threats. Feeling bad about Anya and Tara. Wondering if I should go out and find their graves. On second thought. It wouldn't hurt to pay my respects. I don't hold a grudge against either of them. Could swing by and catch Joyce as well. Regular memorial day for the evil undead. With the exception of Dawn, the only people who had ever been civil to me were all six feet under.
Vaguely I wonder if I'm losing my mind. Feeling bad, thinking of getting flowers, wanting to rip Buffy's face off. All in the same unnecessary breath. Maybe I had gone round the bend back in New Orleans. For a brief moment I wonder what I'm doing here in Sunnydale, making threats against two Slayers. I could have kept my mouth shut, not warned Giles, just waited for Faith outside the prison and drained her dry. What was I doing? What was happening to me?
Exhausted, I stumble into my motel room and choke down a bag of lukewarm blood. The mattress squeals beneath me as I collapse onto it, staring at the ceiling with blank, unfocused eyes. I was lost.
I started down this road full of vengeance and rage. Determined to make them pay for my humiliation, my broken heart, and the mistake of getting my damn soul back. They had ruined me. This town. The Scoobies. I had left my new life with a blind determination to make them suffer as I suffered. I had to kill Faith, that was the deal. The rest of them were just supposed to be for fun. Fun.
Pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, I try to tune out my nagging soul. Angel could suppress his demon. Why couldn't I suppress William? Shut him up, shut him out. Maybe I could find a way to get rid of it. Maybe Red would know a spell. That stopped me. I couldn't very well kidnap the witch and make her remove my soul. Then again, the idea had possibilities. My life would be much simpler without the nagging voice and endless guilt. No chip. No soul. I could really be William the Bloody again.
That depressed me. It was just one more charade. In New Orleans I had pretended to be a man. Now I was pretending to be the vampire I had been before Sunnydale. Just pretending. I wasn't either of those. One more identity that wasn't mine. Faceless. Reckless. Lost.
Sleep was a luxury I couldn't allow until I knew I was out of the Slayers' radar. Listlessly, I watched television until the day had begun and I could begin building my life again.
The Sunnydale Press was happy to hear from me, curious at my request to submit my work via email and my hesitation to come in to the main office. Fortunately, this was Sunnydale and they knew better than to ask too many questions. Want ads provided a handful of apartments for rent and I had a list of places to visit the second the sun slipped over the horizon. The owners didn't think twice about my request to come after dark. What kind of vampire rented an apartment?
I dressed in a pair of comfortable blue jeans and one of the white silk shirts I had worn as a uniform at the club. My hair was still bleached regularly but I let it grow out a bit, preferring the loose curls that were easier to maintain than the slicked back style. Finger combing was all that was required. Still damp from my shower, I pulled my laptop onto the bed and plugged it in. There were a few hours to kill before sundown and I could get started on the first piece they wanted. Something people could relate to, something thought provoking but not too controversial. Something about me, my past, and how I came to Sunnydale. An introduction article was what they wanted.
Who was going to relate to me? A dead human being. A defanged vampire. I didn't fit anywhere. I shook my head. Two hundred and fifty words about me. It couldn't be that hard.
"Hey Buffy." Dawn didn't look up from her bowl of cereal, intently reading something in the newspaper.
"Whatcha reading?"
"New writer. Sounds pretty cool." Milk slurped from her spoon and she pointed to the paper in front of her. Where they normally ran a picture of the author, there was a cartoon face with curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked slightly confused, with a goofy smile and wide eyes.
"Cool." Buffy only read the obituaries looking for weird deaths.
Faith breezed into the kitchen, coming through the back door. "Nada on the crypts in Restfield. No new vamps have moved in."
"Where is he?" Buffy pulled a stool up to the island and began peeling her banana. "This isn't like him. He can't sit still for five minutes. It's been three days."
Dawn glanced up from her newspaper. "Maybe he changed his mind."
"He seemed determined to me." Faith balanced on one foot, then the other, shifting awkwardly as though waiting for her chance to bolt from the room.
"Pull up a chair and stay awhile." Buffy's voice was carefully casual. The dark haired slayer hesitated for a moment before she complied, taking the comics from the stack of papers and starting to read.
"Has Clem seen him again?" Dawn finished off her cereal and dumped the bowl into the sink, returning to her paper.
"Not since he got here. I don't get it. He's not at the factory or the mansion or any of the usual crypts. Where else could he be?" Buffy frowned. "We haven't checked the sewers yet. We should check."
Faith grimaced. "He'll come to us B. He's here to kill us remember."
"Actually he said he was here for you. I'm just a bonus. Kind of a two-fer."
"That makes me feel so much better." Faith rolled her eyes. "I've never fought him before. What's he like in action?"
"He's unpredictable, impulsive. Passionate. It's a dance for him. A game."
"Passionate?" Faith raised one eyebrow. She knew there was more to the Spike and Buffy saga than she was being told. Taking the paper from Dawn, she glanced down at the article Dawn had been reading. It was a new feature article. Normally she didn't bother reading the paper but the title was pretty catchy. Of Mice and Vampires. It was unusual to even see the word vampire in the paper. "Hey B. Listen to this."
"All Hail from New Orleans, home of never ending parties soaked in alcohol and affectionately known as the city of the dead. The world of Anne Rice and her vampire with a soul. Wandering the many above ground cemeteries of the city, it's easy to see shadows that could be ghosts or creatures of the night. It's a world of magic, voodoo, and fantasy. Anything is possible in the streets of New Orleans. It's easy to get caught up in the atmosphere and forget the real world that will beckon in the morning. To dream of such incredible things as noble vampires and benevolent spirits. Who are we kidding? A vampire with a soul? That would only happen as a pathetic plot device in a novel or TV show."
"Hey!" Buffy leaned across the island to see the article. "What would he know about it?"
"Why leave a city of open arms and friendly demons? Sunny California called and I came running. Home to bottle blonds with bronze skin, endless surfing, and Hollywood stars. California has it all. Strange happenings, unexplained phenomena, disappearances. For those who have been living under a rock, Welcome to Sunnydale. Epicenter of weirdness and ground zero of the Twilight Zone. Expect the unexpected and invest in a good pair of running shoes."
"At least someone in this town isn't blind." Dawn forced herself to go back to working on her term paper, keeping half an ear open as Faith read the article.
"I'm here to brighten up your Saturday mornings with my wit and charm. Not with dribble about protecting your roses from insects - that's Tuesday - or who's dating who - you can get that at the Espresso Pump or the Bronze. I'm here to bring you a stranger's delight in the fair town you call home. To see the things you've overlooked because you see them everyday. To hear the things you can only tell a stranger. Call me Mulder. I believe."
"Great. An X-Files fan. Who wants to bet we end up tripping over him on patrol? He'll probably want an interview." Buffy shook her head with disgust and pulled the paper out of Faith's hands.
"It's nice to know that occasionally someone notices the stuff that goes on here." Faith shrugged. "Come on, B. The high school's been wiped out twice now and they're just getting the hint to put it somewhere else. And all the weird bites? How many people can actually die by fainting and landing on a barbeque fork?"
"I admit it's nice. But he's just going to get himself killed if he sticks his nose in some demon's business." Buffy rubbed her neck irritably. "Now I have to worry about a crazy journalist looking for aliens."
"I like it. I think he has a nice sense of humor." Dawn piped up, giving her long hair a toss. "And the cartoon is cute."
"He's probably a nerd. Bet he knows Star Wars by heart."
"Again, not of the good. Remember the last time we had nerds following me around. People died." Buffy was really scowling now. Upset that they hadn't been able to find Spike and annoyed that the Sunnydale Press chose now to open its eyes.
"Don't worry, Buff. No one will really believe it. They'll think he's joking." Dawn tried to sooth her sister. "And you'll find Spike. I know you will. And you'll kick his skinny, undead ass."
"Damn straight." Faith grinned and retrieved the paper from Buffy. "Until then, I'm going to enjoy reading this lovely piece by one William Davis. I think it's funny."
"Fine. Why can't you two watch Saturday morning cartoons like the rest of the kids?"
"Ha, Ha. Funny, B. Very funny."
A knock on the front door sounded a moment before Xander's voice carried through the dining room. "Buffy? Dawn?"
"In here Xan!" Buffy called, noting that Faith made a quick exit to the backyard. Xander rounded the corner, his face dark and angry, and a bouquet of roses clutched tightly in his left hand.
Dawn grinned across the island. "For me?"
Xander shook his head mutely, dropping the roses on the counter as if avoiding invisible teeth and claws trying to hurt him. "I found them at Anya's grave. There was a note." His fingers trembled as he held out the crumpled card.
Buffy took the piece of paper, a frown creasing her brow as she read, "Anyanka. Never got to thank you for one memorable night. S." She heard the hiss of her own breath as her teeth clamped shut a moment before she exploded into a rant. "What the hell is his game? This has to be Spike. Has to be. This is sick, even for him."
"Maybe he was trying to be nice." Dawn offered, cringing when she received blistering looks from her elders. "Or not."
"We should check Tara's grave." Xander still looked furious. "I'll call Willow."
"Good idea. We'll be right back, Dawn."
"Buffy." Dawn bit her lip anxiously. "What about mom?"
Buffy winced. "We'll check there too. Tell Faith what's going on when she comes back."
"No problem. I'm command central." Dawn watched them leave, waiting for the sound of the front door slamming shut before she picked up the roses and began looking for a vase to put them in. No sense in wasting perfectly good flowers. They were beautiful. Full, sweet, soft as silk against her skin. Blood red. Anya would have loved them.
"Is he gone?" Faith's head appeared around the corner. "Roses. For you?"
"Spike left them at Anya's grave. They had a thing." Dawn motioned to the card as she clipped the stems and stuffed the flowers into one of her mother's vases. Placing them carefully in the center of the island, she went back to her paper.
"It's sweet."
"I thought so too. Buffy thinks he's pulling an Angelus."
"She would."
"Yeah. She never really got Spike. Even when they were doing it like bunnies."
"What?" Faith did a double take. "Buffy and Spike? Fucking?"
"Like every second of the day." Dawn rolled her eyes. "Until Buffy broke it off and Spike tried to rape her. Then he disappeared."
"Knew she wasn't telling me everything." Faith shook her head.
"Probably thought you'd laugh at her. Or get mad or judge her. She's still pretty weird about it."
"Judge her." Faith frowned, fondling the card in her hand. "I can see that. She always has to be perfect."
"Yeah. It was after she came back from the dead. Major issues involved." Dawn sighed and pushed her paper away, breathing the scent of roses into her lungs. "I don't know why she was so upset about the Anya thing anyway. They were totally broken up when she and Spike did the wild thing at the Magic Box. Xander tried to kill him."
"I can see that." Faith repeated, not knowing what else to say.
"It was so long ago. It's strange that he's come back after all these years just to kill you and Buffy. Why not when the big Evil came and you broke out of jail to help Angel? He totally could have killed you both. It was so crazy we probably wouldn't have noticed."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Faith grinned. "But you're right. Maybe he didn't know I was out of jail. Where'd Buffy go anyway?"
"To check the rest of the Scooby graves for more flowers. I hope there are more flowers. I like flowers." Dawn touched one of the rose buds gently, enjoying the texture against her fingertips. "How are you and Buffy doing?"
"Okay. There's tension. But it's okay. Being hunted by a psycho vampire kind of helps you look past some of your differences." Faith put her chin on her fist, staring up at the flowers. "I don't get this Spike guy. I've read everything about him in the Watcher's Chronicles and the stuff that Giles sent. It doesn't match up. I wish I had a better feel for him. Maybe I could figure out what he's up to."
"Spike's simple." Dawn shrugged. "He's more like a human than a vampire. He does things for the same reasons you and I do, only times about a thousand. He came here to fix Drusilla because he loved her. He came back to kill Buffy because he thought it was her fault Dru left him. Then he fought with us because he loved Buffy. He took care of me because he promised Buffy he would protect me."
"Doesn't sound like the monster the books talk about. The one who killed two Slayers."
"Spike's like that. He never does what you think he's gonna do." Dawn frowned thoughtfully. "It doesn't make any sense to me either. This whole killing Slayers thing. Why call Giles and tell him all about it? Before you were even out of jail. Spike's not a big genius with the master plans. He's more of the kill first and ask questions later kind of guy."
"Calling Giles means he's thinking ahead."
"And that is very un-Spike. Even when he does make plans, he gets bored and ruins them." Dawn shrugged. "We're in uncharted territory here. Who knows where he's been and what's happened to him."
"Was he a friend? I mean, did you think of him as a friend?"
"Sort of. For a while." Dawn caught the Slayer's eyes. "He was all I had for a while. Willow and Tara were busy with the spell to bring Buffy back. Xander had Anya. Spike and I had each other. He treated me like a person when everyone else didn't. He." She stopped, feeling tears starting to form in her eyes.
"You don't want him to die." Faith was watching her with intense curiosity.
"No. I don't. Not if there's a chance I could get him back. The way he was." Dawn shook her head sadly. "Buffy thinks this is her chance to make up for sleeping with him. That if she kills him now, she'll be able to forgive herself for it. At least that's how I see it."
"You see a lot, Dawn." Faith smiled, a genuine smile without malice or a defense mechanism firmly in place. It was almost warm.
"Yeah. I guess."
The conversation was cut short by the crash of the front door and heavy footsteps of Buffy and Xander. Willow was a few steps behind them, her face pale and lined with worry. A bouquet of daisies and another of tiger lilies dropped onto the counter. Two more notes were tossed on top of them.
"What do they say?" Faith scooped up the notes. "Tara. Blessed Be. S."
"With the lilies," Willow said tightly. "They were her favorite."
"Joyce. A thing of beauty is a joy forever: It's loveliness increases; It will never pass into nothingness. S." Faith frowned and glanced down at the daisies.
"We have to find him." Buffy was seething. "I am going to hurt him. Badly."
"Nothing wrong with a few flowers, B."
Buffy stared at her, "It starts with flowers. Then it's dead fish, pictures on your pillow, and dead friends. He's playing with us. He knew we'd find these."
"Fine. Whatever." Faith shrugged and backed away from the counter.
Dawn pulled out two more vases and took care of the flowers, trying to ignore Buffy's ranting about what she would do to Spike when she found him. Her mother had loved daisies. They were life and innocence. They reminded her of when Dawn and Buffy were little. Buffy at least, since Dawn technically hadn't been there. But they had stood for happy times when they had been a family. A lifetime ago before there were Slayers and vampires and the only thing Joyce Summers had to worry about was taking care of her family. The notes had been personal. Intimate. Almost loving. That wasn't like Spike either. None of this crazy affair was like him at all.
"Dawn?"
"Yeah?" She was startled out of her thoughts, seeing Buffy frowning at her. "They're pretty. I like them." She said defensively as she added the flowers to the table. "You could have left them on the graves you know. It wouldn't have hurt anything."
"I hate that he even knows where they are."
"Fine." Dawn picked up her term paper again, pretending to be editing.
"Dawn. I don't want you going out at night without either me or Faith. Understand?"
"I understand. The Big Bad is back. I got the bloody memo." Dawn didn't catch the grimace on her sister's face at her unintentional use of one of Spike's favorite words. If she had, she probably would have thrown in sodding and bollucks just to be spiteful.
"We'll get him. Willow? Location spell?"
"I'll get on it." Willow nodded brusquely.
"We end this. Tonight. He's pissed me off for the last time." Buffy glared at the flowers as if they themselves were the embodiment of everything she feared and hated.
The flowers didn't last long. Should have known the most holy Scooby gang would take offense and jump to all the wrong conclusions. Didn't matter. I had paid my respects and said my peace. The dead would know I was sincere. That's all that mattered to me.
It also meant that I probably had one very brassed off Slayer on my heels and a powerful witch at her side. That meant they could find me with magic. I was prowling the streets aimlessly, watching, waiting. Bored beyond anything I've known. I had a plan. I always have a plan. Plans require careful thought and a helluva lot of patience, which I had in short supply. I was itching for a good fight. Something to get the bloodlust racing and appease the demon. I needed to kill something before I lost my grip on reality.
Streets grew quiet, alleys faded away. I found myself wandering through my old cemetery, wondering if anyone had moved into my crypt. Not much had been left of it after Soldier Boy's visit. I hate that bastard. Always would. Why hadn't the Cheshire Bitch asked me to kill that wanker instead of Faith?
The door was barely hanging on one hinge, shuddering and almost crashing to the ground when I push it open. It was empty. Everything valuable was long gone. Only piles of trash and dust remained. Behind the pillar was the familiar hole in the floor leading to the blackened remainder of what had been my bedroom. My home. The old wooden ladder still rested against the edge. There was a flickering light below, casting shadows through the opening. I sniff the stale air, trying to catch the scent of whatever or whoever was down there. There was a whiff of lavender soap. I know that smell.
Slipping down the ladder quietly, glancing over my shoulder to find the source of the light, I ease myself onto the floor of the crypt. The lower room had been gutted, the walls still smelling of fire and ash. A light blinked and bobbed in one corner. It was coming from the tunnels.
I step back into the shadows and wait. The beam of the flashlight twists around the bend and I watch her tiptoe into the room. She creeps to where the bed had been. There was a patch of concrete cleaned of charcoal, where a small box rested against the wall. Sitting down on a cinder block, she opens the box and begins to sift through the contents, humming softly. Once finished, she slips back to the tunnel entrance and disappears into the darkness.
Curious, I cross to the box and pick it up. The contents rattle a little as I lift it. Pushing the lid off carefully, I flip open my lighter to check inside. If I had a beating heart, it would have stopped.
Inside the box were the three cards I had left with the flowers, my old bottle of black nail polish, and my old lighter. There are a few photographs from Buffy's birthday party years ago. They're ripped and one of them looks like it was burned on the edges. What surprises me is that I'm in them. Looking like I met the wrong end of Fyarl's fist and watching Buffy but I'm there. There are other trinkets that I don't understand but know are connected to me somehow.
Closing the box and shutting my lighter, I place it gently back on the floor of the crypt and head into the tunnels after Dawn. The soul wants to wrap my arms around her and tell her I'm sorry I wasn't there for her graduation, for the last four years of her life, for her. The demon is uneasy. It doesn't want to kill her but it doesn't know what to make of the Box O' Spike I'm leaving behind.
Around the last bend I pick up the scent of fear. Human fear. My stomach does a flip and I vamp out, searching the shadows. There's a fork in the tunnels, I pause to check directions. Left. Moving toward one of the wider intersections. I can hear a heartbeat now, pounding furiously inside a human chest. Spurring me forward, I focus on the heartbeat as I creep through the tunnel.
Moonlight pours through one of the overhead grates and I catch sight of a dark figure the same moment I register that there is a vampire backing a human into the corner. Not just any human. Dawn.
I glance around for something wooden. There's nothing but steel and concrete. Lifting a metal rod silently from the ground, I decide it will have to do. Gripping it solidly, I can hear Dawn's breathing and the soft laughter of the vamp. Blind with rage, I start toward him. I swore to protect Dawn until the end of the world and goddamn it, I keep my bloody promises.
The pipe swings through the air and catches the vamp above the ear. He slides to the ground with a thud, out cold. I hit him again just to make sure and turn my attention to the frightened woman in front of me.
"Spike?"
"Don't suppose you have a stake handy?" She pulls her hand out from behind her back, revealing a Xander Harris special. I chuckle as I take the piece of wood and drive it into the vamp's heart, rendering him a pile of dust on the floor. There's silence in the tunnels and I hand the stake back to her. I don't know what to say. I don't know why I'm standing here. Bloody hell. I don't even know why I saved her.
"Spike." She's staring at me, not believing her eyes.
"Bit." That did it. She was a blur of brown hair and arms as she barreled out of the corner and wrapped herself around me with a strangle hold that would have made her sister proud.
"My God, Spike. I thought you were dead. I missed you so much." She was sobbing against my duster, clinging to me and trying to pull me closer.
I'm still shocked at the reunion. Hadn't Buffy told her why I'm here? Why was she keeping a box of mementos? More questions filled my head. Cautiously I placed one hand on her back, the other stroking her silken hair lightly.
"I don't care if you kill me. Just don't turn me. Okay? That's all I ask. I don't want Buffy to have to dust me." If I thought I couldn't be any more shocked, I was wrong. I'm torn between pushing her away from me and breaking down myself.
"Bit. I'm not going to kill you." My voice is strained, heavy with the tension of my internal war.
"Buffy told me. About you coming here to kill Faith. And her. I'm not going to ask you not to. Just promise me that if you do." Her big eyes are shining in the weak light. I remember that they're blue. "Promise me that you'll kill me too. I don't want to do this alone. Without Buffy. I can't."
"Dawn." My voice breaks, my heart shatters. I'm pushing her away, violently, and hoping that I haven't hurt her. Boots are pounding against concrete as I race through the tunnels, desperate to get away from her pleas and her big doe eyes. Was I still the weak, pathetic sap I had been so many years ago? Why hadn't I killed her? Or at least threatened her? What was wrong with me? I stumble out of one of the outlet drains into the forest, collapsing in the thick layer of leaves covering the ground.
She had asked me to kill her. Asked me. I'm shaking. Why am I shaking? A scream of frustration and anguish rips from my throat. I'm roaring my pain to the sky because I don't know what to do. I don't know what to be. I don't know how to live. I don't know how to die. I'm spiraling into something I can't understand or control. Losing control. Lost control. Lost. Just lost.