Dear Diary,
Ok, so it hasn't even been a week since I wrote last, but I couldn't resist. Today was a pretty boring day all in all. Well, that is 'til Faith called from patrol and told me to get my ass to this busted-down old mansion about 5 miles, oh excuse me, kilometers away from HQ. Have I mentioned I hate the metric system?
No big, I was dressed for patrol anyway. I hung up and went to find out what was so important that she couldn't just tell me on the phone. I get there to find her group of Slayers-in-Training doing a parameter layout which seemed odd, but this is Faith so I paid it no mind.
Anyway, I found Faith inside with Natasha of all people. Seems Natasha got the same feeling again tonight, so they followed it here only for it to drop out off within moments of getting there. No big, they searched the place top to bottom and found nothing unusual; squatters' leftovers mainly, lots of broken down boxes, torn newspapers, and a very large number of whisky bottles. It wasn't until Faith caught sight of a familiar silver Zippo that she questioned what or rather who they had followed and lost. She said when she picked it up the first thing she said was "ing Spike," but then she remembered Sunnydale and figured it was just a passing memory 'til she got to looking at it. Scratched on one side was a crude railroad spike.
She passed it to me and I looked at it. Damn if she wasn't right, it's Spike's lighter. But how did it get out of Sunnydale in the first place, and who had it that it got left here?
So all I have is more questions and a single clue; a clue that reminds me so much of him. This damn lighter was almost literally part of him.
Diary, I'm not stopping 'til I find who or what had this and why. One way or the other, someone is giving me answers or there will be hell to pay. Literally.
Buffy Summers
London, UK
Sept 5th, 2006