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jesterladyficChapter Two:
Faith reached across Spike and smacked Andrew hard whereupon he howled and elicited another groan from Spike.
“How the bloody hell did I get stuck between you two?”
“You’re the illustrious leader,” replied Andrew, obviously still in pain.
“Like hell he’s the leader,” Faith retorted.
“What’s wrong with me as the leader then? My pants aren’t so tight that they cut off circulation to my brain.”
“Maybe not, but my brain isn’t fried from peroxide dosage, Blondie.”
“Must not be, cause a truly fried brain could come up with a much better epithet than the truly obvious.”
“Oh, and what did your marvelously fried brain come up with?” Faith asked, but before Spike could respond, Andrew clutched his head.
“Stop it, you guys. Conflict makes me nauseous.”
“Better buy a big bottle of Pepto-Bismol then, Andy,” Faith said and settled in to look for a cute flight attendant.
“Got her eyes out already. Didn’t take so very long now, did it?” Spike asked Andrew.
Faith scowled at him and thought it was going to be a long flight.
“So what are our plans then, boys?” Faith asked upon their arrival in LA.
“Stay as far away from the poof as possible and get the hell out to the Hellmouth,” Spike replied.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing ole Angel again,” Faith said, stretching luxuriously and showing ample amounts of skin to any passerby.
“But I would. I wanna keep this Buffy-missing thing on the down low, yeah? Otherwise, he’ll get Wolfram and bloody Hart on the job and I’d like to do this without the good ole, evil law firm helping.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Faith said, as much insolence as she could muster dripping from the word.
“Okay then, boy and girl, let’s rent us a wicked cool car with the Council’s money and hie us to the Hellmouth.” Spike led them to the car rental, ordering an expensive, fast model with tinted windows.
“Hold up there, Dash,” Faith said. “Sun’s coming up to make you all nice and toasty.”
“So we drive till we get to the nearest motel.”
“Your funeral. Or second funeral anyway, possibly your third,” Faith added thoughtfully.
After a long drive with Faith and Spike fighting over the radio and Andrew’s repeated insistences that he was carsick, they arrived at the town nearest to the ex-town of Sunnydale. They got some rooms at a motel and met in Faith’s to discuss their next move.
“Sun sets; we go check out what’s left,” Spike said.
“But we won’t be able to see,” Andrew whined.
“Kid’s got a point,” Faith said. “We could investigate a whole lot better during the day.”
“Yeah, without me.”
“Relax there. We’ll work it out. How about this? We go tonight, all loaded up with flashlights and take a look around. Remember, this is a crater we’re talking about. We can go back tomorrow if we need to.”
Andrew nodded enthusiastically.
“I agree with Faith. We should utilize all our options.”
Spike sighed.
“Utilize, yeah. That’s it.”
“Buck up, Blondie. Let’s all get some sleep and start out fresh and early tonight.”
Spike went to go ask the motel manager about flashlights and Faith dropped exhausted on her bed.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. The Hellmouth in Cleveland was jumping. It seemed all the nasties had relocated their business there after Spike had so effectively shut down their operations here. To add to the matter, the local residents had resented the intrusion and fights between factions broke out regularly, catching bystanders in the middle.
Faith wondered at the wisdom of leaving Vi there with some even younger baby Slayers to handle matters while she was away, but there’d been little option. Of course she was going to go find Buffy. They may not have been best buds, but they were sister Slayers and Faith still had way too much making up to do to let Buffy disappear on her now. With Buffy on vacation and now AWOL, the stress of being senior Slayer was getting to her. Closing her eyes, Faith slept.
***
Downstairs, Spike had acquired several high power flashlights and was about to go back upstairs when he saw a figure come into the motel, hooded and cloaked so that no skin was showing. Being a vampire, it was no stretch of the imagination for Spike to jump to a conclusion, take in the empty lobby and tackle the figure. During the scuffle, the hood fell off and Spike found himself fighting his old friend, Clem.
“Clem! That you, mate?”
“I was until you started pummeling me. What’d you do that for?”
“Sorry, figured you for a vamp with the hood and all. What are you masquerading as?”
“I might not spontaneously combust under sunlight, but the people of this town don’t really buy the skin condition story.”
Spike laughed and pulled Clem to his feet.
“What are you doing here? Last I heard you were running scared from the First.”
“I was until you decided to demolish the town.”
“Nobody was in it,” Spike protested.
“Relax, it’s okay. You did the world a favor. I didn’t think anybody could do it. By the way, aren’t you supposed to be dead? Not that I’m not glad to see you.”
“Long story, mate. I’m here on some business. You?”
“I came to see if any of the stuff I left is salvageable.”
“I’ve got some others with me. We’re going down there tonight. Wanna come?”
“Sure, I’ll come.”
“Right, well, we’re getting some kip till the sun sets, so meet you down here then?”
“Okay.”
***
That evening, four rested individuals got into the flashy rental car and headed towards the crater that was once Sunnydale. Once reached they realized the enormity of their task. It was pitch dark and their flashlights didn’t reach far and there was no way they were going to be able to find a way down at this time of night. Spike stubbornly insisted on searching the perimeter while they were there. Faith yielded far more graciously than normal and taking Andrew with her, headed out to the right of the parked car. Spike and Clem went the opposite direction. The loose-skinned demon went a step or two behind Spike.
“So, where’s Buffy? Not to pry, but you two seemed way close last year and I thought you’d be together if you weren’t dead.”
“Buffy’s missing, Clem.”
“What? What happened to our girl?”
“Well, we don’t know, do we? But clues seem to lead us here, so here we are, where we’ll have to come back tomorrow, sans me, apparently. There’s nothing here.”
Spike was very frustrated and almost didn’t register Clem’s next words.
“Spike! Look out!”
A large form leapt out of the darkness right at him. Spike jumped to the side and the body landed catlike, on all fours and moved towards him again. Spike moved to face it and saw it was a vampire and there were many more, surrounding him and Clem.
“Rogue!” he shouted. “Got a bit of a sitch here. Could do with some back up.”
“Bit busy, boss,” she shouted back and he could hear bone crunching accompanying her words.
“Right then,” he said. “We do it the fun way.”
Moving away from the edge, he started to fight. This was how he liked it. Few against many, odds uneven, bad elements, barely a chance for survival. Laughing aloud, he fought like a whirlwind, taking punches and dealing them out, through the mess of bodies, dusting wherever he went. Beside him, he could sense Clem using his own strength to beat down the vamps.
“Got a stake, Clem?” he asked.
“One would be nice,” Clem answered, grunting.
Leaping over the heads of several vamps and staking two on the way down, Spike handed Clem his extra.
“Thanks,” panted the demon.
“Don’t mention it,” Spike said, already back in action.
There were only a few left and by the time Faith and Andrew came running up sporting a black eye and limp arm respectively, Spike was trading blows with the last one, playing around before finally, twirling his stake with a flourish, planting it deep in the vampire’s heart.
“That was fun,” he said, grinning. “Been a long time since I fought a group. Cheers you up, you know?”
Faith nodded in agreement and smiled wickedly at him.
“Bet it makes you hungry and horny too. Let’s get back to the motel.”
“Right, cause I could use some buffalo wings. And only buffalo wings,” he answered.
“Aah, still no fun.” She seemed to pout and walked back to the car.
Andrew trailed behind her, eyes trained on her back. Or a little lower down. Who’s to say, it was dark.
On the ride back, Spike explained fully to Clem everything that had happened.
“But so far, of course, zip to see,” he concluded.
“Yeah, and sorry to bring up the obvious, but we gotta go back without ya tomorrow.” Faith glanced at him.
Spike grimaced, but nodded.
***
However, the next morning dawned dark, cloudy and stormy. Little rain fell, but no sun could be seen. The town’s occupants seemed mystified at the sudden change in the weather and Spike decided to risk it, over the others' protests.
“Look, I’ll take a tarp with me. And if it gets bad, I can wait in the car.”
“Not gonna go over the funeral speech again,” Faith said.
Andrew just stood there, hero-gazing.
“Yet again willing to lay down his life. Before me stands not just a man, not just a vampire, but something more. Something eternally giving-“ Spike stared at him. Andrew turned red and gestured that it was time to leave.
***
It felt weird to be standing over the mouth of what was once a place where they’d lived. So many memories lay buried under the rock. After careful searching, they found a place to scrabble down the steep slope. Andrew had a lot of trouble and practically fell the last ten feet.
The sight was strange from above, but down in the crater it felt even weirder. Familiar things dotted the landscape, but they were twisted, misshapen, or else exactly the same, but amidst chaos. Spike marveled at how many houses or stores stood untouched as though they’d ridden the collapse like surfers on the waves. Because of the precarious state of the ground and the still remaining hints of the Hellmouth’s energy, there hadn’t been much looting, but signs of scavengers could be seen as they walked down what used to be the main street.
“There’s the Magic Box,” Spike pointed out, almost to himself.
It was hardly recognizable, but that wasn’t too surprising seeing as it had already been destroyed by Willow and never really fixed.
“Ah, I remember it well. The hallowed ground where I encountered the forceful beauty and power of Dark Willow.” Andrew gazed dreamily.
Faith looked at him in surprise.
“Shut up! You went at it with Willow?”
“No, he didn’t,” Spike said sharply. “I may have been in Africa at the time, but Buffy told me what went down. You were cowering behind a spell Anya used to save your life.” His voice wavered as he remembered the feisty ex-demon who had been so like him and who had given her life somewhere in this rubble.
Andrew walked on awkwardly and Spike relapsed into silence. Faith broke it.
“Kinda a mess down here. What are we supposed to be looking for?”
“Dunno really,” Spike replied.
“Why don’t we start with places she liked? Somewhere she’d go,” Clem suggested.
“Good plan, mate,” Spike answered. “She’d go home. Uh, where’s Revello Drive?”
They gazed around blankly, then headed in what they thought was the general direction. And they found it, 1630 Revello Drive. Somehow, miraculously, it had survived. Perhaps some mystic patron saint of houses or some other such thing had decided this house had seen enough damage. Xander could attest to the fact it had enough windows replaced anyway. Regardless, there it sat, a silent witness of many horrors, now enjoying peace in its old age.
Of course the lawn and cement pathway and the trees were gone. Spike slowly pushed the open door and walked in. The handle was broken off. The stairs were slightly askew but intact, the dining room table was turned on its side. The glass doors to the living room were smashed and littered over the entry way. The place looked old, dead and untouched. But the second everyone was inside the house, the door closed with a bang and once again, they were surrounded by vampires.
“This is getting to be a bad habit of ours,” said Faith nonchalantly.
“Good habit more like,” Spike replied, also unconcerned.
“Think B’s weapons chest got through okay?”
“One way to find out,” Spike answered as he leapt over a couple of vamps to the living room and found it and the sofa lying side by side with Xander’s carpentry skills holding the lid closed. Faith kept the vamps away from him till he could grab a couple of swords for Andrew and Clem, throwing Faith one of the long knives she really liked and snatching an axe for himself.
Spike lost himself in the fray, but there were too many of them. As evidenced by dead Slayers all across time, so many vamps against one person, no matter how good one is, he or she will go under. Dust littered the floor, but Spike found himself on his knees held on either side by particularly strong vamps with another one at his back. Forcing his head up for a second, he saw the others in similar positions.
A tall, dark-haired vamp dressed all in black stepped in front of him and tilted Spike’s head to look at him.
“He is the One.”
“One what?” Spike asked. “One kicker of your ass? Give me a sec and then hell yeah.”
“He is the slayer.”
“Huh?” from Faith and Spike.
“Something wrong with the old eyeballs there? Not a girl here.”
“No way he’s a Slayer. I’m the Slayer, well, technically a Slayer,” Faith put in indignantly.
“Not the Slayer. The slayer. Of ours and of his.”
“Run it by me again? Who am I slaying? Wait a minute, I know you. You’re that pal of Lucius’ who ran off when I took over here.”
“Yes. I would not stay under the leadership of such a worthless heretic. You did not deserve the mantle you took nor did Angelus. I have waited to put right your misdeeds for a long time.”
“And what would those be then?” Spike asked, tensing his body.
“You desecrated an unholy icon of belief, you blasphemed in the face of tradition and you broke my rib bone. But your worst crime was killing our leader, the Anointed One.”
“What?” Spike burst out laughing. “You’re still upset cause I offed the Annoying One? Oh, please. Get an unlife.”
So saying, Spike gave a great lunge and, carrying his captors with him, jumped through a hole in the roof. They landed outside on what used to be the front lawn. Wood aplenty lay around and picking up a fragment, Spike made short work of the three he’d carried with him.
Racing back into the house he found Faith had used his escape as an opportunity to stake the vamps holding her down and Andrew had put up a valiant struggle. Clem was also doing quite well for himself. The numbers were thinned enough now that they stood a chance. Spike darted back into the mix.
Faith was fighting the leader. He had stood back from fighting as if it were beneath him, but it seemed he knew what he was doing. She ducked under his leg and caught it with her hand as it came down, twisting him to slam against the wall. He lashed out with his foot and caught her in the stomach. Staggering back, she blocked his punches and then, grabbing his shoulder, flipped him over the couch where his head banged against the weapons chest.
Stunned for a minute, he relaxed, then picking up a discarded sword, he jumped to his feet and swung it at her head. Avoiding it, she rolled to the side where her hand fell upon a crossbow. Buffy certainly deserved to be blessed for her propensity to keep lots of weapons around. Faith grabbed it and fired. Mr. Tradition was no more. But other vamps were to be had in plenty.
Andrew was in trouble and Faith rushed to help him. Clem had a vamp in each arm and threw them out the front door. Spike was easily fending off four vamps in the dining room. Only a few others remained. Then there was one.
Clem had him by the collar. Spike grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.
“Where’s the Slayer?” he asked, growling.
“Bite me,” the vamp sneered.
“Oh, you’re a clever one, aren’t you? I could, you know. Could drain all your blood and you wouldn’t die, just wander in a vegetative state until your brain fried and the sun gotcha.”
“You’d kill me anyway, no matter what I said or didn’t say. You killed the Anointed One, the child who would bring us to our rightful place, and I would never tell you, even if I knew anything.”
“Whaddaya think, Faith? Shall we see if it’s hiding in his insides?”
“Best place to start,” she replied, grinning.
“So, where’s the Slayer?”
“Don’t know; don’t care,” the vamp replied, sounding a little less self-assured.
“Were you not told cause you’re a miserable flunky?” Spike asked.
“I don't have the information you want. Now kill me and be done with it.”
Spike looked into the vamp’s eyes for a moment and then nodded.
“Fine then.”
Spike released him and started to walk away and the vamp leapt for his throat. Spike turned and, with an almost casual gesture, sank his stake into the heart. Dust exploded in a cloud around him and he brushed it off his clothes.
“Nice job, Sherlock,” Faith said. “Now what do we do?”
“Search the house,” Spike answered. “Grab anything that you want or think others would. Odds are some of your stuff is here even with what we packed up when we left the last time”.
They spread out and started to look for any clue of where Buffy might be. Faith headed directly for the weapons chest and Clem offered to look outside.
Spike treaded carefully up the rickety steps to Buffy’s room and there was the scrap of paper he was looking for; a message of where to go to next, he assumed and hoped. But he was more interested in the other aspects of the room. Buffy had been much too excited and busy to take most of her stuff before, besides clothes and pictures.
In her closet he found the black leather jacket Dawn had stolen for Buffy’s birthday. Buffy had returned it, but he’d later given Dawn the money to get it back for her. Buffy had been delighted to have it, never knowing who had actually gotten it back to her. Spike now took it to return to her.
Turning out of the closet, he stumbled on something soft and furry. Looking down he saw it was a stuffed pig, Mr….Gordo, if memory served. He recalled listening to Angelus rant about Buffy and her obsession with the stuffed pig. This too he picked up and put in his duster’s pocket.
A cursory glance of the rest of the room revealed a smashed jewelry case and the contents spread over the floor. Piecing through them, he found of all things, his skull and bones engagement ring and the silver cross he knew Angel had given her. Another pocket closeted these two items. Standing, he went back downstairs.
***
Andrew was in the upstairs bathroom. In a household of thirty people where he was one of the only males, seen as a nuisance and viewed with suspicion for his past deeds, this bathroom had been his fortress of solitude. Here was where he ran in times of personal grief. It was in this room that he’d finally come to terms with what he’d done to Jonathan.
Nothing could ever make it right, of course, but he’d accepted as fact what he’d done. Murdered his best friend in cold blood. It hadn’t changed the fact he was alone among hostile people and that he was about to die and rightly so, but he could deal with it.
Making it through the Battle of the Hellmouth was the hardest thing Andrew had ever done. Living in a world of adventure and romance had not prepared him for the reality of the epic battle and real life fighting for his life he’d undergone. Not through his own merit had he survived. And neither did he deserve to. He knew that, but he had anyway.
He’d expected to die. A just punishment for his action against Jonathan. But living with your crime is a harder thing than dying for it, he’d quickly found out. Giles had helped him, giving him a tentative job within the new Council, but it was Buffy and Dawn and their including him in their family that really pulled him through each day.
The past hurt. He saw the two girls suffering daily for their losses, but struggling to keep living in spite of them. The example they set forced him to follow. Andrew loved his new place in life, seen not just as Tucker’s brother or an evil genius, but as Andrew: Junior Watcher to the Senior Slayer of the Vampyres.
Standing on the broken tile, hearing it squeak beneath his feet, seeing the debris scattered over the floor, Andrew was happy. And he owed it all to one person. He thanked Jonathan for bringing him to this place. In a very majestic, flowing, long speech. Andrew was still Andrew after all.
***
Part of the basement had caved in, but Spike still braved his way down. He had to see it. His cot was flipped over on its side, but it was still there. The punching bag was lying useless on the floor, but, to his surprise, the caricature he’d drawn of Angel was still taped to it.
Setting the cot upright, Spike sat on the edge and gave himself up to memory. To the last night he’d been here. To Buffy’s touch, her smell. Her lips, sweet and golden. Her hands, warm and small. Her skin, smooth and soft. Her hair, silky and sliding.
It had been a night to remember. A night he would treasure. Not just because of the physical touch or pleasure, that he’d known and valued before though never in such a tender way. But the connection, the sharing. Buffy had never been good at communicating verbally or communicating at all except through the pointy end of a stake. But the night before, when he had just held her in that strange house, they’d finally connected. By doing nothing at all but being with each other.
Then the night before he'd died, they’d more than connected, they’d loved. He had cherished her with all the passion and affection she had never before allowed. She had shown him the depth of her trust. She had told him she loved him and he had believed her.
So why he felt he had to not believe her down in the cavern he didn’t know. Maybe he thought it would make it easier on them both. But whatever the reason, he knew with all his being, sitting on a cot in a caved in basement in a broken down house in the bottom of a crater, that Buffy loved him and he loved her. End of story. Except for the part where he had to find her again and all.
Spike rejoined the others.
“I’ve got what we need. Let’s go.”
It was sad and fitting to be walking out of that house after one last brawl. The storm was breaking up outside with an uncanny speed, so they hastened to the cliff face. Climbing up was harder, especially with the stuff they carried, but they all made it, even Andrew, and got to the car before Spike crispy fried.
“So what do we do now, O Finder of Clues?” Andrew asked.
Spike took the scrap of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Faith. She read:
“ ‘Traveled here to find what you lost,
What you gained; was it worth the cost?’
Spike, this is all about you.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” he replied.
“So where are you headed?” asked Clem.
“Africa,” Spike said, his grip tightening on the wheel.
“Just where I’ve always wanted to go!”
Andrew bounced in the backseat, gaining a glare from Faith.
***
Spike called Giles that night to fill him in on what had happened.
“Do you think the vampire attack is connected to Buffy’s disappearance?”
“Oh yeah. Vamps were waiting and apparently had been for a long time. All because I did the world a favor and fried the creepy kid.”
“Be on your guard. This is starting to look like a very well formed plan. The strategy of it is unclear to me. What do you think is the reason?”
The request took Spike off guard for a minute, but he quickly recovered.
“Off me for things I’ve done. I know you Scoobies like to feel I’m your personal scape-goat demon for wronging you, but despite your megalomaniacal pride, you’re not the only people I’ve ticked off over the years.”
“Point taken. We’ll have to ponder this some more. Keep me updated.”
“Sure thing.”
There was silence on the line before Giles awkwardly asked,
“Would you like to speak to Dawn?”
“Sure.”
“Hi, Spike.”
“Hey, Nibblet.”
“What’s happening?”
“Short version is we found loads of vamps, no Buffy and are going to Africa.”
“Xander’s in Africa,” she informed him cheerfully.
“What part?” he dreaded the answer.
She told him.
“Bollocks.”
“What?”
“Looks like he can probably expect a visit from us. We’ll be right about that part.”
“Have fun,” Dawn said sweetly.
“None of your bloody lip, Bit, or I’ll come back to Rome and really drink from your brain stem. Got the chip out now, I could do it.”
“I’m so scared,” she returned, not sounding impressed in the slightest.
“Do me a favor, don’t tell him I’m back, yeah? Wanna surprise him.”
“I always knew you were still evil,” she answered, seemingly not adverse to the idea at all.
***
The next night Spike said farewell to Clem in what passed for a bar in the tiny motel.
“So, we’ll be seeing ya,” Spike told his old friend.
Clem smiled, and Spike knew more thought than one would’ve imagined ran through the mind behind his friend's simple appearance.
“Find Buffy. The two of you got some catching up to do and I have some catching up to do with my TV. Tell her hi and all that and that I’m still off the kittens.”
Spike smiled.
“Girl’s a bloody reformer. She even got you off the kittens.” He shook his head. “Well, then, so long.”
“Goodbye, Spike.”
Faith reached across Spike and smacked Andrew hard whereupon he howled and elicited another groan from Spike.
“How the bloody hell did I get stuck between you two?”
“You’re the illustrious leader,” replied Andrew, obviously still in pain.
“Like hell he’s the leader,” Faith retorted.
“What’s wrong with me as the leader then? My pants aren’t so tight that they cut off circulation to my brain.”
“Maybe not, but my brain isn’t fried from peroxide dosage, Blondie.”
“Must not be, cause a truly fried brain could come up with a much better epithet than the truly obvious.”
“Oh, and what did your marvelously fried brain come up with?” Faith asked, but before Spike could respond, Andrew clutched his head.
“Stop it, you guys. Conflict makes me nauseous.”
“Better buy a big bottle of Pepto-Bismol then, Andy,” Faith said and settled in to look for a cute flight attendant.
“Got her eyes out already. Didn’t take so very long now, did it?” Spike asked Andrew.
Faith scowled at him and thought it was going to be a long flight.
“So what are our plans then, boys?” Faith asked upon their arrival in LA.
“Stay as far away from the poof as possible and get the hell out to the Hellmouth,” Spike replied.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing ole Angel again,” Faith said, stretching luxuriously and showing ample amounts of skin to any passerby.
“But I would. I wanna keep this Buffy-missing thing on the down low, yeah? Otherwise, he’ll get Wolfram and bloody Hart on the job and I’d like to do this without the good ole, evil law firm helping.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Faith said, as much insolence as she could muster dripping from the word.
“Okay then, boy and girl, let’s rent us a wicked cool car with the Council’s money and hie us to the Hellmouth.” Spike led them to the car rental, ordering an expensive, fast model with tinted windows.
“Hold up there, Dash,” Faith said. “Sun’s coming up to make you all nice and toasty.”
“So we drive till we get to the nearest motel.”
“Your funeral. Or second funeral anyway, possibly your third,” Faith added thoughtfully.
After a long drive with Faith and Spike fighting over the radio and Andrew’s repeated insistences that he was carsick, they arrived at the town nearest to the ex-town of Sunnydale. They got some rooms at a motel and met in Faith’s to discuss their next move.
“Sun sets; we go check out what’s left,” Spike said.
“But we won’t be able to see,” Andrew whined.
“Kid’s got a point,” Faith said. “We could investigate a whole lot better during the day.”
“Yeah, without me.”
“Relax there. We’ll work it out. How about this? We go tonight, all loaded up with flashlights and take a look around. Remember, this is a crater we’re talking about. We can go back tomorrow if we need to.”
Andrew nodded enthusiastically.
“I agree with Faith. We should utilize all our options.”
Spike sighed.
“Utilize, yeah. That’s it.”
“Buck up, Blondie. Let’s all get some sleep and start out fresh and early tonight.”
Spike went to go ask the motel manager about flashlights and Faith dropped exhausted on her bed.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. The Hellmouth in Cleveland was jumping. It seemed all the nasties had relocated their business there after Spike had so effectively shut down their operations here. To add to the matter, the local residents had resented the intrusion and fights between factions broke out regularly, catching bystanders in the middle.
Faith wondered at the wisdom of leaving Vi there with some even younger baby Slayers to handle matters while she was away, but there’d been little option. Of course she was going to go find Buffy. They may not have been best buds, but they were sister Slayers and Faith still had way too much making up to do to let Buffy disappear on her now. With Buffy on vacation and now AWOL, the stress of being senior Slayer was getting to her. Closing her eyes, Faith slept.
***
Downstairs, Spike had acquired several high power flashlights and was about to go back upstairs when he saw a figure come into the motel, hooded and cloaked so that no skin was showing. Being a vampire, it was no stretch of the imagination for Spike to jump to a conclusion, take in the empty lobby and tackle the figure. During the scuffle, the hood fell off and Spike found himself fighting his old friend, Clem.
“Clem! That you, mate?”
“I was until you started pummeling me. What’d you do that for?”
“Sorry, figured you for a vamp with the hood and all. What are you masquerading as?”
“I might not spontaneously combust under sunlight, but the people of this town don’t really buy the skin condition story.”
Spike laughed and pulled Clem to his feet.
“What are you doing here? Last I heard you were running scared from the First.”
“I was until you decided to demolish the town.”
“Nobody was in it,” Spike protested.
“Relax, it’s okay. You did the world a favor. I didn’t think anybody could do it. By the way, aren’t you supposed to be dead? Not that I’m not glad to see you.”
“Long story, mate. I’m here on some business. You?”
“I came to see if any of the stuff I left is salvageable.”
“I’ve got some others with me. We’re going down there tonight. Wanna come?”
“Sure, I’ll come.”
“Right, well, we’re getting some kip till the sun sets, so meet you down here then?”
“Okay.”
***
That evening, four rested individuals got into the flashy rental car and headed towards the crater that was once Sunnydale. Once reached they realized the enormity of their task. It was pitch dark and their flashlights didn’t reach far and there was no way they were going to be able to find a way down at this time of night. Spike stubbornly insisted on searching the perimeter while they were there. Faith yielded far more graciously than normal and taking Andrew with her, headed out to the right of the parked car. Spike and Clem went the opposite direction. The loose-skinned demon went a step or two behind Spike.
“So, where’s Buffy? Not to pry, but you two seemed way close last year and I thought you’d be together if you weren’t dead.”
“Buffy’s missing, Clem.”
“What? What happened to our girl?”
“Well, we don’t know, do we? But clues seem to lead us here, so here we are, where we’ll have to come back tomorrow, sans me, apparently. There’s nothing here.”
Spike was very frustrated and almost didn’t register Clem’s next words.
“Spike! Look out!”
A large form leapt out of the darkness right at him. Spike jumped to the side and the body landed catlike, on all fours and moved towards him again. Spike moved to face it and saw it was a vampire and there were many more, surrounding him and Clem.
“Rogue!” he shouted. “Got a bit of a sitch here. Could do with some back up.”
“Bit busy, boss,” she shouted back and he could hear bone crunching accompanying her words.
“Right then,” he said. “We do it the fun way.”
Moving away from the edge, he started to fight. This was how he liked it. Few against many, odds uneven, bad elements, barely a chance for survival. Laughing aloud, he fought like a whirlwind, taking punches and dealing them out, through the mess of bodies, dusting wherever he went. Beside him, he could sense Clem using his own strength to beat down the vamps.
“Got a stake, Clem?” he asked.
“One would be nice,” Clem answered, grunting.
Leaping over the heads of several vamps and staking two on the way down, Spike handed Clem his extra.
“Thanks,” panted the demon.
“Don’t mention it,” Spike said, already back in action.
There were only a few left and by the time Faith and Andrew came running up sporting a black eye and limp arm respectively, Spike was trading blows with the last one, playing around before finally, twirling his stake with a flourish, planting it deep in the vampire’s heart.
“That was fun,” he said, grinning. “Been a long time since I fought a group. Cheers you up, you know?”
Faith nodded in agreement and smiled wickedly at him.
“Bet it makes you hungry and horny too. Let’s get back to the motel.”
“Right, cause I could use some buffalo wings. And only buffalo wings,” he answered.
“Aah, still no fun.” She seemed to pout and walked back to the car.
Andrew trailed behind her, eyes trained on her back. Or a little lower down. Who’s to say, it was dark.
On the ride back, Spike explained fully to Clem everything that had happened.
“But so far, of course, zip to see,” he concluded.
“Yeah, and sorry to bring up the obvious, but we gotta go back without ya tomorrow.” Faith glanced at him.
Spike grimaced, but nodded.
***
However, the next morning dawned dark, cloudy and stormy. Little rain fell, but no sun could be seen. The town’s occupants seemed mystified at the sudden change in the weather and Spike decided to risk it, over the others' protests.
“Look, I’ll take a tarp with me. And if it gets bad, I can wait in the car.”
“Not gonna go over the funeral speech again,” Faith said.
Andrew just stood there, hero-gazing.
“Yet again willing to lay down his life. Before me stands not just a man, not just a vampire, but something more. Something eternally giving-“ Spike stared at him. Andrew turned red and gestured that it was time to leave.
***
It felt weird to be standing over the mouth of what was once a place where they’d lived. So many memories lay buried under the rock. After careful searching, they found a place to scrabble down the steep slope. Andrew had a lot of trouble and practically fell the last ten feet.
The sight was strange from above, but down in the crater it felt even weirder. Familiar things dotted the landscape, but they were twisted, misshapen, or else exactly the same, but amidst chaos. Spike marveled at how many houses or stores stood untouched as though they’d ridden the collapse like surfers on the waves. Because of the precarious state of the ground and the still remaining hints of the Hellmouth’s energy, there hadn’t been much looting, but signs of scavengers could be seen as they walked down what used to be the main street.
“There’s the Magic Box,” Spike pointed out, almost to himself.
It was hardly recognizable, but that wasn’t too surprising seeing as it had already been destroyed by Willow and never really fixed.
“Ah, I remember it well. The hallowed ground where I encountered the forceful beauty and power of Dark Willow.” Andrew gazed dreamily.
Faith looked at him in surprise.
“Shut up! You went at it with Willow?”
“No, he didn’t,” Spike said sharply. “I may have been in Africa at the time, but Buffy told me what went down. You were cowering behind a spell Anya used to save your life.” His voice wavered as he remembered the feisty ex-demon who had been so like him and who had given her life somewhere in this rubble.
Andrew walked on awkwardly and Spike relapsed into silence. Faith broke it.
“Kinda a mess down here. What are we supposed to be looking for?”
“Dunno really,” Spike replied.
“Why don’t we start with places she liked? Somewhere she’d go,” Clem suggested.
“Good plan, mate,” Spike answered. “She’d go home. Uh, where’s Revello Drive?”
They gazed around blankly, then headed in what they thought was the general direction. And they found it, 1630 Revello Drive. Somehow, miraculously, it had survived. Perhaps some mystic patron saint of houses or some other such thing had decided this house had seen enough damage. Xander could attest to the fact it had enough windows replaced anyway. Regardless, there it sat, a silent witness of many horrors, now enjoying peace in its old age.
Of course the lawn and cement pathway and the trees were gone. Spike slowly pushed the open door and walked in. The handle was broken off. The stairs were slightly askew but intact, the dining room table was turned on its side. The glass doors to the living room were smashed and littered over the entry way. The place looked old, dead and untouched. But the second everyone was inside the house, the door closed with a bang and once again, they were surrounded by vampires.
“This is getting to be a bad habit of ours,” said Faith nonchalantly.
“Good habit more like,” Spike replied, also unconcerned.
“Think B’s weapons chest got through okay?”
“One way to find out,” Spike answered as he leapt over a couple of vamps to the living room and found it and the sofa lying side by side with Xander’s carpentry skills holding the lid closed. Faith kept the vamps away from him till he could grab a couple of swords for Andrew and Clem, throwing Faith one of the long knives she really liked and snatching an axe for himself.
Spike lost himself in the fray, but there were too many of them. As evidenced by dead Slayers all across time, so many vamps against one person, no matter how good one is, he or she will go under. Dust littered the floor, but Spike found himself on his knees held on either side by particularly strong vamps with another one at his back. Forcing his head up for a second, he saw the others in similar positions.
A tall, dark-haired vamp dressed all in black stepped in front of him and tilted Spike’s head to look at him.
“He is the One.”
“One what?” Spike asked. “One kicker of your ass? Give me a sec and then hell yeah.”
“He is the slayer.”
“Huh?” from Faith and Spike.
“Something wrong with the old eyeballs there? Not a girl here.”
“No way he’s a Slayer. I’m the Slayer, well, technically a Slayer,” Faith put in indignantly.
“Not the Slayer. The slayer. Of ours and of his.”
“Run it by me again? Who am I slaying? Wait a minute, I know you. You’re that pal of Lucius’ who ran off when I took over here.”
“Yes. I would not stay under the leadership of such a worthless heretic. You did not deserve the mantle you took nor did Angelus. I have waited to put right your misdeeds for a long time.”
“And what would those be then?” Spike asked, tensing his body.
“You desecrated an unholy icon of belief, you blasphemed in the face of tradition and you broke my rib bone. But your worst crime was killing our leader, the Anointed One.”
“What?” Spike burst out laughing. “You’re still upset cause I offed the Annoying One? Oh, please. Get an unlife.”
So saying, Spike gave a great lunge and, carrying his captors with him, jumped through a hole in the roof. They landed outside on what used to be the front lawn. Wood aplenty lay around and picking up a fragment, Spike made short work of the three he’d carried with him.
Racing back into the house he found Faith had used his escape as an opportunity to stake the vamps holding her down and Andrew had put up a valiant struggle. Clem was also doing quite well for himself. The numbers were thinned enough now that they stood a chance. Spike darted back into the mix.
Faith was fighting the leader. He had stood back from fighting as if it were beneath him, but it seemed he knew what he was doing. She ducked under his leg and caught it with her hand as it came down, twisting him to slam against the wall. He lashed out with his foot and caught her in the stomach. Staggering back, she blocked his punches and then, grabbing his shoulder, flipped him over the couch where his head banged against the weapons chest.
Stunned for a minute, he relaxed, then picking up a discarded sword, he jumped to his feet and swung it at her head. Avoiding it, she rolled to the side where her hand fell upon a crossbow. Buffy certainly deserved to be blessed for her propensity to keep lots of weapons around. Faith grabbed it and fired. Mr. Tradition was no more. But other vamps were to be had in plenty.
Andrew was in trouble and Faith rushed to help him. Clem had a vamp in each arm and threw them out the front door. Spike was easily fending off four vamps in the dining room. Only a few others remained. Then there was one.
Clem had him by the collar. Spike grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.
“Where’s the Slayer?” he asked, growling.
“Bite me,” the vamp sneered.
“Oh, you’re a clever one, aren’t you? I could, you know. Could drain all your blood and you wouldn’t die, just wander in a vegetative state until your brain fried and the sun gotcha.”
“You’d kill me anyway, no matter what I said or didn’t say. You killed the Anointed One, the child who would bring us to our rightful place, and I would never tell you, even if I knew anything.”
“Whaddaya think, Faith? Shall we see if it’s hiding in his insides?”
“Best place to start,” she replied, grinning.
“So, where’s the Slayer?”
“Don’t know; don’t care,” the vamp replied, sounding a little less self-assured.
“Were you not told cause you’re a miserable flunky?” Spike asked.
“I don't have the information you want. Now kill me and be done with it.”
Spike looked into the vamp’s eyes for a moment and then nodded.
“Fine then.”
Spike released him and started to walk away and the vamp leapt for his throat. Spike turned and, with an almost casual gesture, sank his stake into the heart. Dust exploded in a cloud around him and he brushed it off his clothes.
“Nice job, Sherlock,” Faith said. “Now what do we do?”
“Search the house,” Spike answered. “Grab anything that you want or think others would. Odds are some of your stuff is here even with what we packed up when we left the last time”.
They spread out and started to look for any clue of where Buffy might be. Faith headed directly for the weapons chest and Clem offered to look outside.
Spike treaded carefully up the rickety steps to Buffy’s room and there was the scrap of paper he was looking for; a message of where to go to next, he assumed and hoped. But he was more interested in the other aspects of the room. Buffy had been much too excited and busy to take most of her stuff before, besides clothes and pictures.
In her closet he found the black leather jacket Dawn had stolen for Buffy’s birthday. Buffy had returned it, but he’d later given Dawn the money to get it back for her. Buffy had been delighted to have it, never knowing who had actually gotten it back to her. Spike now took it to return to her.
Turning out of the closet, he stumbled on something soft and furry. Looking down he saw it was a stuffed pig, Mr….Gordo, if memory served. He recalled listening to Angelus rant about Buffy and her obsession with the stuffed pig. This too he picked up and put in his duster’s pocket.
A cursory glance of the rest of the room revealed a smashed jewelry case and the contents spread over the floor. Piecing through them, he found of all things, his skull and bones engagement ring and the silver cross he knew Angel had given her. Another pocket closeted these two items. Standing, he went back downstairs.
***
Andrew was in the upstairs bathroom. In a household of thirty people where he was one of the only males, seen as a nuisance and viewed with suspicion for his past deeds, this bathroom had been his fortress of solitude. Here was where he ran in times of personal grief. It was in this room that he’d finally come to terms with what he’d done to Jonathan.
Nothing could ever make it right, of course, but he’d accepted as fact what he’d done. Murdered his best friend in cold blood. It hadn’t changed the fact he was alone among hostile people and that he was about to die and rightly so, but he could deal with it.
Making it through the Battle of the Hellmouth was the hardest thing Andrew had ever done. Living in a world of adventure and romance had not prepared him for the reality of the epic battle and real life fighting for his life he’d undergone. Not through his own merit had he survived. And neither did he deserve to. He knew that, but he had anyway.
He’d expected to die. A just punishment for his action against Jonathan. But living with your crime is a harder thing than dying for it, he’d quickly found out. Giles had helped him, giving him a tentative job within the new Council, but it was Buffy and Dawn and their including him in their family that really pulled him through each day.
The past hurt. He saw the two girls suffering daily for their losses, but struggling to keep living in spite of them. The example they set forced him to follow. Andrew loved his new place in life, seen not just as Tucker’s brother or an evil genius, but as Andrew: Junior Watcher to the Senior Slayer of the Vampyres.
Standing on the broken tile, hearing it squeak beneath his feet, seeing the debris scattered over the floor, Andrew was happy. And he owed it all to one person. He thanked Jonathan for bringing him to this place. In a very majestic, flowing, long speech. Andrew was still Andrew after all.
***
Part of the basement had caved in, but Spike still braved his way down. He had to see it. His cot was flipped over on its side, but it was still there. The punching bag was lying useless on the floor, but, to his surprise, the caricature he’d drawn of Angel was still taped to it.
Setting the cot upright, Spike sat on the edge and gave himself up to memory. To the last night he’d been here. To Buffy’s touch, her smell. Her lips, sweet and golden. Her hands, warm and small. Her skin, smooth and soft. Her hair, silky and sliding.
It had been a night to remember. A night he would treasure. Not just because of the physical touch or pleasure, that he’d known and valued before though never in such a tender way. But the connection, the sharing. Buffy had never been good at communicating verbally or communicating at all except through the pointy end of a stake. But the night before, when he had just held her in that strange house, they’d finally connected. By doing nothing at all but being with each other.
Then the night before he'd died, they’d more than connected, they’d loved. He had cherished her with all the passion and affection she had never before allowed. She had shown him the depth of her trust. She had told him she loved him and he had believed her.
So why he felt he had to not believe her down in the cavern he didn’t know. Maybe he thought it would make it easier on them both. But whatever the reason, he knew with all his being, sitting on a cot in a caved in basement in a broken down house in the bottom of a crater, that Buffy loved him and he loved her. End of story. Except for the part where he had to find her again and all.
Spike rejoined the others.
“I’ve got what we need. Let’s go.”
It was sad and fitting to be walking out of that house after one last brawl. The storm was breaking up outside with an uncanny speed, so they hastened to the cliff face. Climbing up was harder, especially with the stuff they carried, but they all made it, even Andrew, and got to the car before Spike crispy fried.
“So what do we do now, O Finder of Clues?” Andrew asked.
Spike took the scrap of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Faith. She read:
“ ‘Traveled here to find what you lost,
What you gained; was it worth the cost?’
Spike, this is all about you.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” he replied.
“So where are you headed?” asked Clem.
“Africa,” Spike said, his grip tightening on the wheel.
“Just where I’ve always wanted to go!”
Andrew bounced in the backseat, gaining a glare from Faith.
***
Spike called Giles that night to fill him in on what had happened.
“Do you think the vampire attack is connected to Buffy’s disappearance?”
“Oh yeah. Vamps were waiting and apparently had been for a long time. All because I did the world a favor and fried the creepy kid.”
“Be on your guard. This is starting to look like a very well formed plan. The strategy of it is unclear to me. What do you think is the reason?”
The request took Spike off guard for a minute, but he quickly recovered.
“Off me for things I’ve done. I know you Scoobies like to feel I’m your personal scape-goat demon for wronging you, but despite your megalomaniacal pride, you’re not the only people I’ve ticked off over the years.”
“Point taken. We’ll have to ponder this some more. Keep me updated.”
“Sure thing.”
There was silence on the line before Giles awkwardly asked,
“Would you like to speak to Dawn?”
“Sure.”
“Hi, Spike.”
“Hey, Nibblet.”
“What’s happening?”
“Short version is we found loads of vamps, no Buffy and are going to Africa.”
“Xander’s in Africa,” she informed him cheerfully.
“What part?” he dreaded the answer.
She told him.
“Bollocks.”
“What?”
“Looks like he can probably expect a visit from us. We’ll be right about that part.”
“Have fun,” Dawn said sweetly.
“None of your bloody lip, Bit, or I’ll come back to Rome and really drink from your brain stem. Got the chip out now, I could do it.”
“I’m so scared,” she returned, not sounding impressed in the slightest.
“Do me a favor, don’t tell him I’m back, yeah? Wanna surprise him.”
“I always knew you were still evil,” she answered, seemingly not adverse to the idea at all.
***
The next night Spike said farewell to Clem in what passed for a bar in the tiny motel.
“So, we’ll be seeing ya,” Spike told his old friend.
Clem smiled, and Spike knew more thought than one would’ve imagined ran through the mind behind his friend's simple appearance.
“Find Buffy. The two of you got some catching up to do and I have some catching up to do with my TV. Tell her hi and all that and that I’m still off the kittens.”
Spike smiled.
“Girl’s a bloody reformer. She even got you off the kittens.” He shook his head. “Well, then, so long.”
“Goodbye, Spike.”
