~*All that you Can't Leave Behind*~


Prologue


2003...


**

A motel somewhere outside of Los Angeles, California...


Twenty-four hours had passed since it had all ended. Buffy didn't know when she had started counting, just suddenly found herself doing it, like it was second nature. Rolling onto her back, she winced at the sudden sharp pain that pierced her side. Her fingertips slid beneath the top she wore to finger the makeshift bandage that covered the near fatal wound on her right side.

She remembered the feel of the cool blade as it had sliced through her skin, remembered the bright smear of blood that had covered her hand and she remembered tumbling to the ground. She also remembered the sound of the First's voice...taunting her, mocking her. Daring her.

The resolve that Buffy had felt in those fleeting moments when it seemed her life was slipping away had been like none other she had experienced. That resolve had forced Buffy to her feet had caused her to turn a steely gaze in the direction of the incorporeal version of herself and stare 'it' down.

The rest had been a blur.

That is, until a brilliant shaft of light had penetrated her senses, causing her head to whip around. For a moment, she had been stunned by the light's warm orange glow...the thought of being like a deer trapped in head lights had momentarily crossed her mind. All coherent thought had left her brain when she heard the sound.

Spike's voice.

He was calling to her.

And, in the space of a heartbeat, she was at his side.

His back was to the wall, the sheer force of the amulet's power holding him spellbound, mystified. Powerless and trapped. But, wait no...not powerless. Strong. Fearless. And the look he had shot her...had almost taken Buffy's breath away.

He wasn't afraid.

But, Buffy was.

She was terrified.

It all hit home at that moment. Collided. Came together.

As she met Spike's gaze something occurred to Buffy, something that had always niggled at the periphery of her mind, her heart. It was that ominous something that she had been pushing away, denying, since the very moment Spike had told her he was in love with her. Three years.

Oh God, how terribly, terribly blind she'd been.

And now...

It was too late...too damn late.

Spike was going to leave her.

Buffy had shaken her head, as if the slight movement could change anything. She could feel the sting of the tears that had begun to build behind her eyes...and then she met Spike's eyes. And all of the breath left her body as Spike began to speak.

"Gotta move, lamb. I think it's fair to say school's out for the bloody summer."

Buffy shook her head vehemently.

"Spike..."

But he was insistent, demanding. He raised his hand, winced in pain and then met her eyes again.

"I mean it. I gotta do this!"

Buffy released a shaky breath. Was this really happening? Was Spike really going to leave her? The swift and powerful feeling of sadness and finality swept over her. But, didn't she want this to happen? A flash of memory assailed Buffy in that moment. She remembered dropping the amulet into Spike's hands, watching as he clasped it in his palm, tested its weight and took on the responsibility that had suddenly been bestowed upon him.

Champion.

Hero.

But, could Buffy let go?

In a split second she knew.

She had no choice.

Slowly, as if some other-worldly force was controlling her, Buffy laced her fingers through Spike's, felt the flames as they ignited, licked, scorched and sealed their adjoined hands, as if binding them in some eternal, divine way. Never had she felt more connected with one being. She and Spike were one.

Always.

The monster who was a man and his Slayer.

And then, she said the words.

"I love you."

The moment seemed to move in slow motion and Buffy registered Spike's expression of calm complacency, as if he had already made peace...with himself, with his demon...with the world. He slowly turned to face her and all she could see was his eyes, brilliantly blue awash in the golden light that seemed to bathe him from head to toe.

And then he smiled.

It was a secret smile, as if he knew the punch line to some inside joke.

In that instant, Buffy knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth.

"No, you don't. But thanks for saying it."

A great tremor shook the cavern as the amulet, with its laser-like beam, began to decimate everything in its path. It was ending and there wasn't much time. All Buffy could do was clasp Spike's hand tightly in hers, not daring to believe that Spike would pull away first, but he did. The shaft of pain that pierced Buffy's body was unexpected and jarring.

He was letting go.

"It's your world up there. Now go! I wanna see how it ends!"

She hesitated. Briefly. She fiercely battled the emotions that were building, pushed everything away and willed her feet to move. One last glance at Spike was all she could manage, before she jumped out of the cavern and began to run for her life.

And then it was over.

Nothing was left.

Sunnydale. The Hellmouth. Finished. Complete.

And Spike?

Hopefully, he was in a better place, a place away from where Buffy could hurt him anymore, where maybe he'd find a love that was returned, find happiness.

God knew that Buffy would never be in that place, because it was too late for her.

But, she could at least hope for Spike.

And maybe someday she'd be in the place where she could come to terms with it all. Lay it to rest.

Easier said than done.


**

She didn’t go with them. Giles pleaded, her friends begged, Dawn insisted, but Buffy did not relent. Her friends, Giles, Dawn and the new Slayers, were going onto Los Angeles, to Wolfram and Hart, but Buffy wasn’t ready to go anywhere yet. She wanted to be alone, wanted to grieve in peace. The looks in her friends’ eyes confirmed that they knew her pain. Buffy was grateful that they didn’t address it, didn’t try to talk her out of it.

All she could do was watch helplessly as the bus ambled away from the motel, kicking up dust as it disappeared down the road and carried her former livelihood away.

Time would pass before she’d see any of them again.

Buffy began to walk. She had nothing, just the clothes on her back…

And her memories.

It was all she needed.


**


End Prologue

to be continued with chapter one…all that you can’t leave behind
 

Chapter One


~*All that you can’t Leave Behind*~


Rome...2004


**


It was a bad idea and Buffy just wasn't in the mood. From her bedroom on the second floor, she could hear the sounds of people arriving for the party and once again regretted her decision to attend. She stood, clad only in bra and panties, in front of the full length mirror, holding up outfits one by one, and discarding each in a fluid motion. So far, about three or four outfits had been dismissed, and Buffy realized her heart wasn't really into the exercise in futility.

Flopping onto the bed dejectedly, Buffy stared at her hands and once again tried to summon up enthusiasim for the party...a going away party that had been a last minute Giles idea. Buffy hadn't been able to bring herself to turn him down when he'd asked if she'd attend. He'd given her that hopeful pleading look, which immediately made Buffy feel guilty. So, she'd said she go...but it didn't mean that she had to enjoy herself.

Which she would not.

With a sigh, Buffy realized that her attitude was probably incredibly selfish. She had seen the concerned looks that Giles and Dawn had been shooting her way ever since her return a month ago. Seven months Buffy had been gone, yet it seemed to feel like an eternity.

Seven months. Was that really all the time that had passed since...

Buffy shunned the thought the moment it entered her mind. She had made a promise to herself...no thinking about that certain thing that had happened...about certain people she had lost. Seven months had passed for Christ's sake; there was a point in time when you started to move on with life.

But, she doubted that it could happen so easily or that quickly.

Because the pain was still sharp, so glaringly acute, that she thought the sheer force of it would knock her off her feet. It had taken seven months for Buffy to finally feel like she could face the world...without him.

But, was she really ready? Unfortunately, Buffy didn't have an answer to that question. And she still had to go to the damn party. Getting to her feet, Buffy allowed her eyes to take in the tiny bedroom that had been a haven to her for the past month. It had taken some adjustment, but she was finally able to say that she was beginning to like living in Rome, although she still missed being on her own, taking things a day at a time, living by the seat of her pants. She had only had the experience once...shortly after she had sent Angel to hell...that summer in L.A., but this time...well...this time was different.

Very different.

After she had watched the rickety school bus lumber away that hot June afternoon seven months ago, she had made a promise to herself, a promise that had been hard to keep, but worth the effort. No strings, no ties...to anything. She had effectively cut everyone out of her life and for damn good reason. Didn't mean it didn't hurt any less, of course. But, it had to be done. If Buffy was to function with just a mere shred of her sanity, she was to do it on her own terms. Without anyone standing in her way.

And it had been fine...for awhile.

Buffy's self-imposed sabbatical had been healing and hurtful all at once. She had spent so much time worrying about others, protecting the world, shielding her heart, that a part of herself had been lost in the fray. Losing Sp--

Buffy shook her head. No. She wouldn't think of that.

So, she had wandered. Aimlessly. Without direction, without a plan. But the streets were cold and the nights were long. Loneliness, like a vacuum, was sucking away at her, and leaving in its wake a gaping hole, not unlike the one that currently took up the space where Sunnydale had once been. Where her heart and her life had once resided.

One rainy night in December however, Buffy had found herself with a decision to make. Somehow she had ended up at the front entrance of Wolfram and Hart. Moments later, she had been escorted to Angel's office. Battling with the urge to bolt, Buffy finally came to a conclusion.

She missed Dawn. She missed Giles. And no matter how much pain she was in, no matter how badly her heart was broken and bruised, they were still in her life, and they loved her. She had suffered a loss so great that it had nearly cut her in two, but the stuff of normal life had to resume, and Buffy didn't think she could live much longer the way she was.

So, she was using her get-out-of-jail-free card.

Angel contacted Giles.

Buffy had been on a flight to Rome within hours.

A month had passed and so much had changed.

And now, she, Giles and Dawn were moving to London.

In two days. Hence, the party.

Buffy stared at the array of clothing spread out over her bed and worked up the energy to get to her feet. Pulling on a white peasant blouse and a flowy tan-colored skirt, Buffy once again trudged to the full-length mirror and scrutinized her reflection. She pulled her hair back away from her face and secured it into a messy bun. Stepping into sandals, Buffy turned out the light and headed for the door.

Time to make an appearance and to pretend that she was actually happy and thriving.

It was a disguise that Buffy could slip into easily. She could play the part.

Wasn't that what she'd been doing for the past month?


**


The party was in full swing and Buffy was bored to tears. She'd made with the small talk with just about every person in attendance and then poured herself a drink and ensconced herself in a corner...away from the stares and the whispers. The pointed looks and the hushed insinuations had been happening for some time. Everyone wondered where Buffy had been, what had happened to her. She didn't know half the people that Giles was friends with, but they somehow all seemed to be concerned about her. This made her very uncomfortable. It was one thing to have Giles and Dawn concerned about her, but it was a completely different story when perfect strangers were involved.

And she hated being pitied. The last thing she wanted was to be the grand marshal of the pity parade. But, Buffy would continue to suffer in silence. She had hurt enough people already; she didn't want the list to grow. Even if it meant making certain sacrifices. The big one being London.

To say Buffy had been stunned about the sudden move, was putting it lightly. Giles had dropped the bomb a week ago. Something had come up with the Watcher's Council and Giles would need to assume his position there as soon as possible. He'd been putting it off as he awaited Buffy's return. Turned out he'd been putting it off for too long. If he wanted to participate in the rebuilding of his career, then he would have to act quickly.

Buffy hadn't wanted to deny him of his livelihood and when he'd asked if she'd consider going along, she hadn't hesitated in saying yes. Of course, deep inside she knew she was lying to him and to herself. But, she'd agreed. She was in it for the long haul. It was just another step in taking back control of her life, of moving on.

It seemed that things were speeding along a little faster than Buffy would have liked. She'd only been in Rome for a month. She had just started getting her bearings and now...London.

A high pitched giggle interrupted Buffy's reverie and her eyes swung across the room to take in Dawn, who was holding court nicely with a large group of teenagers. She couldn't help smiling at the vision of her younger sister, who seemed to have grown up overnight. Gone was the gangly, awkward teen that Buffy remembered, and in her place was a very beautiful, mature young woman. Dawn had turned out nicely, if Buffy said so herself.

Not that Buffy had had a hand in helping Dawn to become who she was today. No, unfortunately, the world had needed saving...time and time again. Being the Chosen One, and a parent...not something Buffy had been able to balance accordingly. Luckily for her, Dawn had had capable people around her, guiding her, shaping and molding her into the woman she was today.

There was Giles. Willow. Xander. They were the ones who could take credit. But, not Buffy. Never Buffy. And sometimes if she looked close enough, she could see the resentment in Dawn's eyes. The accusations, the hurt. None of this had gone unnoticed by Buffy. It was a price she would be forced to pay.

Buffy knew that Dawn loved her, but she didn't think that Dawn respected her. You had to be there in a person's life to be respected. Buffy knew that she would suffer some consequences when she'd chosen to cut herself off from those in her life. It was just hard to deal with.

Buffy sensed Giles as he came to stand beside her and plastered a phony smile on her face as she turned to face him. Giles smiled down at Buffy in his fatherly way, and she had a hard time holding her tears back.

"Hello, Buffy. Enjoying the party?" he asked gently, taking a sip of his drink and gazing ahead at the partygoers who laughed and mingled. Buffy lifted a shoulder nonchalantly.

"I guess," she murmured. "Though, I don't really know anyone here." Giles nodded slightly, his smile slipping a degree.

"It only takes time," he assured. "And you'll meet some lovely people in London. I've made arrangements for you at the Council; they are all looking forward to meeting you."

"Mmm…” Buffy annotated.

"And Dawn as well. I know how excited she is to start at her new school."

Buffy could only nod. Small talk. She and Giles had been engaging in it for a month. They didn't have the same rapport as they once did, back in the old days. In the short amount of time that Buffy had been gone, a deep chasm had opened up between her and Giles. Dawn as well. Buffy just didn't feel close to anyone anymore. And she knew why. Buffy stared ahead, she could feel Giles' eyes on her, but didn't return his gaze. She hated seeing that look in his eyes...it killed her to know that she was slipping away from those that loved her most.

Grief was a vicious monster. It was eating Buffy alive.

Giles moved away, mumbling some excuse about refilling the punch bowl. Buffy knew that he was only covering. Everyone seemed to be uncomfortable around her these days.

Not that she could blame them.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw something move and she turned her head slowly, a frown creasing her features. She scanned the room, eyes narrowed until something came into her line of vision that nearly robbed her of breath. A male figure. A flash of blonde hair and leather. The figure moved toward the kitchen, and as if her feet had a mind of their own, Buffy began to follow the mysterious shadow of a man who looked like...

Could it be...was it...?

As soon as she entered the kitchen the air seemed to leave her body.

The figure was gone.

For what seemed like an eternity, Buffy stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the large glass doors that led out to the patio, where the ghost-like apparition had disappeared. Covering her face with her hand, Buffy sank limply into a chair and rested her forehead on her folded forearms.

What the hell was happening to her?

Buffy never noticed Dawn, who stood in the shadows of the hallway leading to the kitchen, gazing morosely at her. She seemed to be deciding whether to enter and comfort her sister, as if she teetered on a tenuous tight rope of emotions. A war waged within. Could she help, could she heal? With a sigh, Dawn shook her head and turned away.

Some people just couldn't be helped.

End of Part One
to be continued with part two: the immortal
 

Chapter Two


This is the Land of the Living


**


The claustrophobia had been getting worse. The night sweats. The panic attacks. And now creepy visions of ghosts, or apparitions...it was a little too much for Buffy to take. So, to escape her insomnia, she slipped out of the house in the middle of the night and decided to patrol.

As she walked through the silent desolate cemetery, Buffy finally felt as if she could breathe again. There was just something about the night that made her come alive, if only for a short while. For a couple of weeks now, Buffy had been doing her nightly patrols, even though it was probably unnecessary, as Rome didn't seem to have a very large population of vampires or demons. But, out on the hunt, stalking her prey, was when Buffy felt the closest to safe, to secure. It was the only time she could be herself, it was the only time she felt real.

No one knew about her nightly patrols. She hadn't bothered to tell Giles, because she knew what he'd say about it, that Buffy was wasting her time that she didn't need to patrol anymore, not when millions of girls around the world took up the slack. And that wasn't counting the several thousand that resided in Rome. So, she kept it to herself. It was her private little secret, something for only her. It didn't matter that the patrols didn't yield any results, even going through the motions of being the Slayer comforted Buffy to a degree.

It struck her as odd in that moment as she came to rest against a nearby headstone. For seven years, patrolling had been a necessary evil, just another part of her life. It had interfered with her social life, her love life and dominated her family. But, when she finally got what she wanted, when the weight was finally lifted, it had been bittersweet. After that, she had never been able to shake the feeling that something had been carved out of her, as if a huge chunk of herself had been surgically removed and placed into dozens of other girls.

There was something missing inside of Buffy.

She knew it and others were starting to pick up on it.

But no one dared to ask.

Because they were afraid.

Buffy could identify with that fear; she carried it around with her daily. Being the Slayer didn't define her anymore. She was just another face in the crowd, just one human being among millions trying to move through life. The calling that at times she had hated, had wished hadn't been bestowed upon her, had become the one thing that had set her apart from everyone else. And now that was lost.

Buffy didn't know when she had become so bitter, so discontent. Losing everything could make a person feel that way, she supposed. Her loss was beginning to consume her, to take over. And it wasn't just the Slayer thing.

She couldn't deny it anymore.

What was the point?

She missed Spike.

At night she dreamed about him. Always dreamed of him. And they weren't the same dreams that repeated themselves over and over again. They were different. Every night. Maybe that was why she hadn't been sleeping well, because deep down inside she feared sleep, feared what she would dream.

Because he would visit her there, taunt her with his devilish grin, his haughty laugh, and those eyes. His eyes were what haunted Buffy the most, because the one dream that did repeat was the one of their last moments in the crumbling cavern of the Hellmouth, and all she could see was his eyes...and the blame in them.

Buffy sagged against the headstone as the realization hit her.

She blamed herself for Spike's untimely demise.

It was her fault that he was gone. Her insecurities and misgivings about their relationship had succeeded in pushing him away, the one thing that she'd always been doing to him. Pushing him away had been easier than acceptance. If she kept him at arm's length, she could keep denying that they had shared something and that maybe it was special.

Denial was easier and far less painful.

But, it was starting to catch up to her.

The sound of a twig snapping brought Buffy's attention back to the present raised her hackles in suspicion. She may have lost the Slayer title, but she still had her instincts...and they were telling her that something was coming. Buffy grasped her stake tightly as she walked slowly toward the source of the sound, eyes taking in everything as she investigated. Suddenly, something or someone strode out from the thick grove of trees that bordered the cemetery and Buffy attacked, stake raised. Her attack was easily blocked and she found herself flat on her back and staring up into warm brown eyes.

Diego.

"Geez, you scared the crap out of me!" Buffy cried with a shaky laugh as she pushed herself off the ground and got to her feet, dusting her clothing off as she faced her friend. Diego folded his arms across his chest and snorted as he laughingly took in Buffy.

"I scare you, Boffy. Please!" he tilted his head back with a grin. "I did not think that was possible. You are the Slayer; I do not think you know fear." Buffy could only grin as she tried to decipher what her friend was saying through his thick Italian accent.

"Well," she said blowing her bangs out of her face, "things are not always as they appear. So what's with the lurking? Did something happen? Is it Giles, Dawn?" Diego shook his head.

"No, no. Your watcher and the little girl are safe. I am actually here of my own volition. Call it a mission of mercy." Buffy folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes.

"Huh?" she asked quizzically. Diego stepped closer and put a friendly arm around Buffy's shoulder pulling her close.

"I am your friend, yes?"

"Uh..." Buffy stammered, "I guess so. Why?"

"Friends, they are supposed to help, to offer advice. To console." Buffy tensed up at his words and pulled away from Diego, frowning at him.

"What is this about? And you can totally stop with the dodgy, ok?" Diego looked puzzled a moment, as if he had a hard time figuring out what Buffy was saying.

"Dodgy?"

"Diego!"

"Ok, ok," Diego relented holding up his hands. "I tell you. Come with me now, we talk." Diego took Buffy's arm and started to guide her away.

"Where are we going?"

"To coffee shop. I buy you coffee, we talk. Yes?"

"About what?"

"I tell you when we get there."

They walked a few minutes before Buffy stopped and faced Diego, shooting him a pointed look.

"Did Giles put you up to this?" Diego shook his head.

"No, he did not. I told you, I come of my own volition. Now come with me, girl. Before I have to drag you." Buffy sighed and relented. Obviously she was not going to get anything out of the Italian, which meant she was being coerced into something.

And she didn't like it one bit.


**


"You've been following me?" Buffy asked incredulously, staring across the table at her friend. Diego shrugged and had the gall to look put-upon.

"I do it as a favor. And not for just anyone," he answered, leaning back in his chair, his mouth setting in a grim line. Buffy shook her head dejectedly, staring down at her hands. They seemed to have a mind of their own, fiddling with everything in sight.

"So, explainy?" Buffy finally asked. Diego lifted a brow as if to ask 'huh'? Buffy sighed aloud. "Spill. Now."

He leaned forward, reached for her hand and grasped it in his own, leveling his gaze with hers.

"Your watcher, he worries for you. As does the little girl. As do I. Boffy, you are sad. Everyone sees it and they want to help." Buffy yanked her hand from Diego's, eyes flashing angrily.

"I don't think I'm in the mood for talking anymore."

"But Boffy--"

Buffy didn't answer; instead she got to her feet, pulled on her jacket and turned to leave. Diego scrambled out of his seat and in two steps was at her side, circling his hand around her upper arm, preventing her from leaving.

"You must stay. Let me help. Please?" Buffy pulled away from Diego, eyes narrowing tightly in anger and frustration.

"No one can help me. Understand? You tell them that. I just want to be left alone."

With those final words she stalked away, leaving Diego standing there dumbfounded and confused.


**


Buffy's emotions had surpassed anger by the time she entered the duplex she shared with Giles and Dawn. Slamming the door as loudly as she could had been tempting, but she doubted that it would get her the results she wanted. Standing in the kitchen, she pulled off her jacket and scarf, hung them on the hook near the door and then went to find her Watcher. He was, predictably, in the study, poring over a large stack of books, when Buffy stepped into the doorway. He hadn't heard her approach, so Buffy cleared her throat loudly, which startled Giles into looking her way. He got to his feet and removed his glasses with a frown.

"Buffy? What is it? Something's happened?"

The conditioned response. Buffy shook her head. It never failed. Whenever she happened to storm into a room he always assumed there was danger and didn't even consider the possibility that she might be angry at him. She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms over her chest, eyeing Giles malevolently.

"So, what's the sitch, Giles? Sending Diego to fetch me? To do the whole intervention thing?" Giles ran a hand over his hair and placed his glasses back on his face. He thrust his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor.

"I simply asked if the The Immortal would--"

"He has a name, Giles. It's Diego. He stopped going by that other name ages ago. So, cut the crap. What's going on?" Giles shuffled his feet and then met Buffy's eyes.

"Buffy, please. Lower your voice. I think we can discuss this rationally. Like adults," he answered, stepping around her to pull the door closed. He faced Buffy again, looking perplexed. Buffy shook her head and made a sound of frustration. She stepped around Giles and settled into the wing chair near the desk, keeping her posture stiff, her expression grim. Giles took a seat in the chair beside Buffy and studied her.

"I was only concerned for you. I'm not the only one, I'm afraid. Ever since you returned you've been moping about. You haven't eaten. You don't sleep," Giles stopped a moment. There was a beat as he took in Buffy's silence. Finally, he continued. "I only asked that Diego...that he speak with you, because he seems to relate to you on some level. It wasn't my intention to insult you or invade your privacy. I simply wanted to help."

"I don't need anyone's help, Giles. I'm fine," Buffy replied stiffly. Giles got to his feet, stood before Buffy's chair and then lowered himself to her level, his gaze imploring as he searched Buffy's eyes.

"You haven't been fine for some time. I can see it. Anyone with eyes can see it. You're in pain. We only want to help," Giles murmured softly, placing a hand tenderly on Buffy's knee. Buffy lowered her eyes and shook her head. She was having difficulty meeting her Watcher's eyes, for fear that he would see right through her, somehow penetrate the the brick fortress she had erected around herself. Slowly, she got to her feet, regarding Giles evenly.

"I appreciate that you want to help. I do. But, asking Diego to follow me around, like I'm some criminal or something?" Buffy shook her head, "doesn't really put me in a mood where I want to be all forthcoming with my problems. I just want to be alone, is that too much to ask?"

Giles shook his head.

"Of course not, Buffy. No one is asking you to do anything. But, there are issues here. Things that need to be discussed. If it's about Spike--"

"Don't!" Buffy exclaimed her voice breaking as she raised a hand to halt Giles' words. "Don't you dare bring him into this!"

"Buffy, I only want to--"

"No!" she cried brokenly, covering her face with her hand so he could not see the tears that were starting to fall. "I don't want to talk about this," she lifted her head, brushed away the tears. "Please," she finished on a broken whisper.

Before Giles could utter another sentence, Buffy had brushed past him to the door, her hand poised to turn the knob. Giles' voice caused her to freeze.

"I know how terribly you miss him. I know how you blame yourself. Eventually you will have to let go, and allow yourself to live again. He would have wanted it that way."

Buffy kept her back to Giles, turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, but she didn't step out immediately.

"You could never know what Spike would have wanted. To you, to everyone else, he was just a killer, a monster. To me--" she stopped, released a shaky breath and turned to face Giles, "to me he was more than that. Spike died so we could live. But he shouldn't have had to. There should have been another way, something we could have done."

Giles was silent a moment and then crossed the room, leaned closer to Buffy and placed his hands on her shoulders, gazing down at her in sadness and confusion.

"There comes a time when you stop blaming yourself, Buffy. Spike knew what he was doing, he accepted his fate. When he died...I know that he wanted you to accept yours as well." Buffy relinquished herself from Giles' grasp. She shot him a pointed look, a glare so penetrating that he took a step back.

"Spike didn't die because he wanted to. He died because of me. I gave him the amulet. If I hadn't done that--" Buffy shook her head, covered her face and then turned away. Finally, she spoke. "It's my fault that he's gone, Giles. Nothing you say or do is going to change that."

Buffy was silent, as if waiting for her words to sink in. A few minutes passed and she turned to leave.

"I'm done talking about this," she said finally and then left the room. She knew Giles wouldn't follow her and for that she was glad.


**

End of Chapter Two

to be continued with chapter three: wishing you were here…

A/N: Chapter title taken from the song ‘Land of the Living’, by Bush


 

Chapter Three


~*Wishing You Were Here*~


**


The day dawned with silence. Giles stayed out of Buffy's way as they prepared to depart for London. The truck had arrived to pick up the many boxes and bags that would be shipped to London separately; it stood outside, waiting to be loaded. After that, Giles, Dawn, and Buffy would board a plane and head to another new country, another new start.

Buffy felt heaviness in her heart as she packed a duffle bag to carry with her on the plane. Diego had sent flowers, but Buffy had disregarded them, not even bothering to read the card. Dawn had taken it upon herself, proclaiming that Diego had wished the best, hoping that Buffy would stay in touch. Buffy found herself doubting his intentions, wondering if guilt had been the reasoning behind the flowers. He was her only friend these days, the only one she could count on, and it saddened her to think that the connection between them might be severed, just because of some gross misunderstandings.

She didn't know if she could forgive Diego. His betrayal had stung, had pierced something fragile inside of her. She didn't know if she could even forgive Giles. She could deny it all she wanted, but somewhere deep inside, Buffy knew that Giles, in his own misguided way, was right about what he'd told her last night.

But, she wouldn't back down, wouldn't allow herself to acknowledge that fact aloud, because she was terrified, apprehensive that her own hang-ups were going to keep haunting her until the day she died. She just wished her shortcomings weren't so glaringly apparent to everyone around her. Buffy hated that she was so accessible, that the walls she had erected around herself were so thin and penetrable.

Most of all, she hated herself. She detested the woman that she was becoming. But, the only way she could survive anymore was to grow an increasingly harder shell and not allow herself to give in to her doubts and her fears.

Even if it meant losing everything along the way.

She'd already lost so much in her short twenty-three years, what did it matter if the list kept growing?

If one had nothing left to lose, than there was no point in fighting for anything.

This was a lesson that Buffy was slowly learning. There was a war being waged inside of her, but she didn't think she cared to continue what was slowly becoming a losing fight.

Buffy had simply given up.

Losing it all, losing everything that she had once held dear, was going to leave a permanent mark on her soul.

If only Spike could see her now. Would he be disappointed? Angry? A thousand times Buffy had tried to picture him in her mind, but she only found herself getting angry. So much time had passed, that now, she couldn't even remember the sound of his voice, couldn't remember his scent, or the way his arms had felt wrapped around her so tightly. She remembered the first few days after the demise of Sunnydale, how she'd gone over everything, every single detail of her relationship with Spike, imprinting the memories on her heart, her mind, so that she'd never forget.

When had she allowed herself to finally forget it all?

What right did she have? Didn't Spike deserve to be remembered?

The Slayer half of her strongly disagreed, because he was a vampire, a monster...one who had killed everything in his path for over a hundred years. Monsters like that didn't get remembered. They got dusted, exterminated...all for the greater good.

Then, of course there was Buffy's human side, that soft underbelly of her personality that set her apart from the Slayers that had come before her. The humanity that she had struggled so hard to maintain had almost gotten her killed so many times. It had even caused her to fall in love with not one, but two vampires. It had nearly been taken away.

Her humanity, above all, had always won out...and at the end of the day, it was always what she chose first. Being the Slayer had never compromised her ability to be human as well. No matter what. And when it came to Spike and what he deserved...well, Buffy already knew the answer to that question.

He deserved nothing less than her respect, her love.

She hadn't relinquished either of those things to him, even when he'd earned it, begged for it, demanded it. Even when she knew it was justified. Buffy simply refused to see what she was doing to Spike, to his heart. She'd turned a blind eye, allowed herself to take advantage in some of the basest and cruelest ways possible.

She'd offered him her body, but never her heart. She had done nothing but take...take...take...until it had pushed him over the edge, violently. And in his desperation, his confusion and his pain, he'd acted out, attempting to rape her...if only to make her see what she was doing to him, how she was killing him. She hadn't seen, hadn't really imagined how her actions had affected him. Hell, she hadn't cared. Spike had only been the means to an end. Then, the soul...

And when she'd finally come around, glimpsed the power of the soul in Spike's eyes, had finally seen who he really was after the curtain was pulled...it had been too late. She'd only cracked the surface of Spike's love and what he was capable of. And then it was ripped away, torn from her.

Buffy would never forgive herself for putting Spike through that kind of pain. She would, in some way, always be responsible. This was the power of her guilt...and nothing could change it. This time, Buffy could not be redeemed. No more excuses.

Spike was gone.

Buffy was alone.

The crime certainly fit the punishment.

Dawn called Buffy's name from the first floor, jarring her out of her reverie. With a heavy sigh, Buffy slung her bag over her shoulder, cast a long last look at her empty bedroom and then left the room and headed downstairs.


**


After an hour of staring out the window of the plane and contemplating the landscape below, Buffy finally made a decision. She didn't want to be angry at Diego anymore. He'd only been doing what Giles had asked him to do, and Buffy had probably flown off the handle...just a tad. She wanted to make amends, try and salvage the only real friendship she'd had since Sunnydale. She decided to send him an email and try to explain what was happening to her, why she was acting the way she was. If he forgave her, then Buffy would come out the winner.

Diego had come into her life through Giles. Once upon a time he'd been 'The Immortal', a vicious demon hunter hell-bent on ridding the world of evil, much in the same way as a Slayer, but without being bound by duty or fate. His was a personal mission, for a demon clan had killed his family when he was a child. Since then, he'd been fueled by anger and revenge, wreaking havoc on any monster that crossed his path.

After the Hellmouth had closed, the demon population had gone underground, leaving the demon hunter without his prey. Soon after, 'The Immortal' became Diego. Diego then settled in Rome, and found himself without a purpose in life. Shortly thereafter, he contacted Giles, who immediately set him up with a position in the Council. Giles had been convinced that if Diego channeled his energies into fighting alongside the forces of light, that it would change his entire outlook.

Giles had been right.

The fact that Diego had taken Buffy under his wing was just a simple twist of fate. At first, he had shown romantic tendencies toward Buffy, which she was not having at all, period. She'd shot him down time after time, until finally he'd gotten the message.

They'd settled into a comfortable friendship and over time had grown to depend on one another. Buffy merely viewed their friendship as brother/sister, but it was evolving into much more. She had grown to rely on Diego, seeking him when she needed to talk, or when she just needed a shoulder to cry on. He had done the same, telling Buffy about his parents and the anger he still felt to this day about their deaths.

After much prodding, Buffy had opened up about being the Slayer, about Sunnydale. She had only given him minor details, but after a few weeks, when she started to feel more comfortable, she shed more light on her past, and all Diego did was listen.

It was what Buffy had needed at the time.

Diego was, essentially, her best friend now.

She sensed that maybe he wanted more from her, but she had told him time and time again, that she didn't feel that way for him. She only prayed that he would understand, because more and more lately she'd been seeing that look in his eyes, the one that showed more than just love that a brother had for a sister.

And Buffy would hate herself if she had to hurt him. The one thing her Italian friend could never understand, and the one thing that she had the most trouble explaining to him, was the fact she wasn't ready for a relationship. Not a romantic one, at least. Her heart was fragile, shattered, and there was nothing she could do to pick up the pieces. Buffy was still healing. So far, Diego had kept his intentions to himself, for which Buffy was relieved.

She just wasn't ready to go there.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Shaking her head to clear it, Buffy stood to open the baggage compartment above her seat, withdrawing her bag. She sat, opened the bag and pulled out her laptop. As she waited for the computer to boot up, she glanced across the aisle, taking in Giles and Dawn. She didn't like to think about what her mental state was doing to the both of them, and she hated that things had to be this way, but she hoped that eventually they would understand...Buffy only needed to heal. She needed time and much patience. But, how did she even begin to tell them that? She loved them both so much. She just wanted things to be different.

Buffy doubted they ever would be. At least not now.

The laptop made a sound indicating that it was ready for her to log on. Moments later, she was engrossed in the email to Diego, thankful to have something to occupy her mind.

For the moment.

Dear Diego,

How do I begin to tell you how sorry I am? I guess all I can say is that I hope you'll forgive me for the other night. It's not you that I was angry with...it's just...well...life in general right now. I hope you can understand and trust me.

Right now, we are about halfway to London. Giles and Dawn are dozing in their seats across the aisle from me and at this moment, I wish that I could find that same kind of contentment, that same kind of peace. But, you know as well as I do, that I haven't been able to have those things.

I thought that I would get the chance to finally come to terms with my whole life after Sunnydale was over. I thought it would be so easy to move on, to live just like a person. But, it's so hard. And after Spike...well...I think peace and contentment are a long way off for me.

I don't think I ever really told you about Spike, about our relationship and what he meant to me. I've never told anyone the truth about him and me...not Dawn, not Giles, and not even Willow or Xander, my two closest friends who are like family to me.

The circumstances being what they were, I knew that there was no way any of them could really comprehend it. In my world, vampires are bad. There's a whole mortal coil thing that people have when it comes to evil, when it comes to monsters. Me, I just fall in love with them.

Of course, there was Angel. But, I won't bore you with the details of that. I can see you rolling your eyes from here. All I will say, that Angel was a high school thing. Compared to what I had with Spike...Angel was in a totally different league. They couldn't be more different...and if you put the two of them in a room together...get ready for the bickering...it amazed me how the two of them hated each other so much. The stories I could tell you, believe me...

Anyway...I'm rambling here...so maybe I'll just get to the point...

You asked me about Spike once, and all I told you was that he was in my heart. But, it was so much more than that...and sometimes I am even too afraid to admit that to myself.

I fell in love with Spike...after the soul and all...

I even said it to him...that last day...I said 'I love you.'

And he rejected me.

And than he died...

Buffy looked up from the computer, brushing a hand at her eyes. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but now her eyes were filling up and it was getting harder to see the screen. She turned to glance out the window on her left side, momentarily hypnotized by the drifting clouds, the endless sky. Pressing a finger to her lips, she kissed it gently and then placed it against the window, closing her eyes.

I miss you, Spike. Wherever you are...

Letting out a shaky breath, Buffy turned back to her computer and continued to type. She hit the send key, contemplating the screen for a few minutes. A moment later, a box popped up, indicating that she had a new message. Buffy clicked onto the email program and brought up her inbox.

A new email from Diego.

A smile curved at the corners of Buffy's mouth. She was glad he had written back so quickly. Things were going to be fine. Clicking on the message, Buffy let her eyes skim over the few sentences Diego had written...

Buffy,

You are forgiven, friend. Did you receive the flowers I sent? I hope that all goes well for you in London, my dear. I have to make a trip to Los Angeles in the next couple of days...Council business, you understand. My trip will bring me to Wolfram and Hart, where your friend Angel works. I will be sure to give him your best while I am there. Ah...it will be good to be back in the States again. I plan to make a stop in London on my way back to Rome; we will see each other soon. This time you can buy the coffee, love.

Ciao'!

Buffy smiled and closed the laptop, set it on the empty seat beside her and then settled back, closing her eyes. A small smile lit her lips as her eyes drifted closed.

Maybe this whole London thing wouldn't be so bad after all...


**


End of Chapter Three

to be continued with chapter four: everything you want

A/N: Chapter title taken from a Pink Floyd song: ‘Wishing you were Here’.
 

Chapter Four


~*Everything You Want*~


**


Buffy made a decision the moment the plane began to make its descent into London. It was time to make some changes. Grief, blame and denial had been ruling her existence for too long. She had allowed herself to wallow in the deep end of her sadness, to the point where she was beginning to lose sight of everything around her.

That was going to change.

The arduous flight had given Buffy the much needed time to really take stock of her situation, and assess the path that her life was headed on. She was tired of hating herself, tired of the weight she carried day in and day out. She was her own person now, unbound from destiny, no longer obligated to carry the bricks that had been strapped to her back since high school. Buffy was free and she hadn't even bothered to take into account what the word meant.

In her dreams, she had never left Sunnydale, as if a part of her mind and body were intrinsically entombed there, along with the others who had died at the hands of the First‘s declaration of war and the mayhem that had followed. Buffy may have moved on, but a part of her would always be left standing at the mouth of that goddamned crater, destined to remain there forever.

Unless she did something about it.

And that was her decision.

Buffy was moving on.

It was about time.


**


One month later...


Life was falling into place so easily, that Buffy often staved off the urge to pinch herself. Since arriving in London, Buffy had done her level best to hold true to the promise she had made to herself. Moving on had never been so freeing. No longer was she consumed by the dreams of a pale, blonde haired vampire clad in leather.

The panic attacks and insomnia had all but disappeared and she was living life to its fullest; taking pleasure in the small joys that happened to meander her way. Buffy hadn't experienced joy in so long, that the concept was almost foreign to her. Living life post-Sunnydale had seemed impossible, but was now more attainable than ever.

Buffy was happy.

And people were noticing.

Suddenly, a whole new world of possibilities had opened up to her and Buffy hadn't taken anything for granted. In the span of a month, she had made several changes. Giles had managed to pull some strings and secure Buffy a job at the brand spanking new Council, which was now housed in downtown London.

She was now the Director of Operations, which meant she was in constant contact with Willow, the coven in Devon, and others in the field that were tracking and bringing in new Slayers everyday.

Buffy hadn't seen her fiery-haired friend in months, and now she could speak with her on the phone or through emails anytime she wanted. The job was taking up a lot of her time these days, but if Buffy considered the alternatives...well...she was much better off.

But, Buffy wasn't a workaholic. She clocked in the appropriate amount of hours, but always left time for play. And play, she did. Her love life had suddenly been infused with a much needed spark of life. Buffy dated, not seriously...never seriously...but she indulged in pleasures that for so long, she had been deprived of. It was like discovering a new country...and all the hotties that lived in it.

Buffy went all out.

Every night she was in the clubs, mingling, drinking, and making new friends. Some of the friends happened to be men and Buffy sometimes happened to take them home with her. No strings, of course. And no blondes. The only lingering effect of Sunnydale was unfortunately, Buffy's desire to stay away from men with blonde hair. She didn't talk to them, didn't date them and she certainly didn't fuck any.

It was bad karma, and Buffy preferred to be in the good graces of the Powers, because any other way could lead to the path of bad, and Buffy was just having too damn much fun.

So, with her job and her social life, Buffy could feel herself teeming with a new-found sense of contentment, of happiness...but there was always that lingering sense of foreboding...as if her happiness were lingering...momentary. This feeling shadowed her, but Buffy did everything in her power to cast it away.

For now, she was apartment hunting. Dawn had whined on more than one occasion about having to live with Giles. She was almost eighteen, and craving at least a semblance of independence, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by Buffy. Because, she herself had been craving the same thing. With steady paychecks arriving every two weeks, Buffy now had a sizable amount of money put away. She could finally afford a two-bedroom flat for her sister and herself.

Financial freedom.

It was one less brick in the heavy load that Buffy had been carrying since Sunnydale. The weight was getting lighter. Buffy was finding herself.

She was free.

And it was exhilarating.


**


You've got mail...

Buffy ignored the flashing indicator on her computer and cradled the phone between her shoulder and neck as she paged through a file folder.

"Yeah, Will. I've got it right here."

Buffy paused, leaned forward slightly to read the words before her and then frowned.

"It doesn't say that...of course not...Willow, I'm telling you..."

Buffy sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead as she listened to the response at the other end of the line.

"Fine. Bring her back here. I'll have Giles do the whole briefing thing," she finished, turning around in her chair and facing the windows overlooking the teeming London streets below.

She twisted the phone cord around her finger as Willow launched into the latest details of the ongoing Slayer quest. Buffy listened, adding a few 'uh-huh's' and 'oh yeahs'. She turned around in her chair, jotted something into the open file on her desk and concluded the conversation.

"I gotta go, Will...take care of yourself. I hear Africa's kinda scary. What? What am I doing?" Buffy laughed. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Love you, hon. Give Kennedy my best."

Buffy shook her head with a smile and hung up the phone. She reached for the open file, closed it and then returned the manila folder to the cabinet against the far wall of the office. Glancing at her watch, Buffy was happy to notice that it was five o' clock. It was Friday night and she had the whole weekend ahead of her.

Tonight she would be at one of the hottest clubs on London's main drag, it was her favorite haunt...the place where everyone knew her name. Kinda like 'Cheers', but UK style. Buffy could feel her excitement building as she shrugged into her jacket and wrapped a scarf around her neck.

There was a hottie with short black hair and a killer body that she'd had her eye for on some time. Tonight was the night to seal the deal. A smile curved over Buffy's features as she leaned over her desk to flip the computer off.

She frowned at the screen and the 'new mail' indicator that flashed repeatedly, alerting Buffy that there was a new message. She glanced at her watch once more and with a shake of her head, decided she didn't have time to read the new message. It could wait until Monday.

Buffy left the office shortly thereafter, humming a tune as she exited.

She never noticed the page that slid from the fax machine in silence, just moments later.

Buffy,

We must speak. Immediately. I am arriving in London in the morning. The matter is urgent.

Diego


**


Hangovers were a bitch.

Buffy pressed her face to the cool linoleum of the bathroom floor and closed her eyes. Weakly, she pulled herself off of the floor, swallowing the nausea that rose in her throat. Stumbling to her bedroom, Buffy closed the door and flopped onto the bed, pressing her palms to the side of her head, where a vicious headache had begun to throb.

She crawled beneath the thick comforter and pulled it to her chin, stifling a moan as her stomach did a flip flop. There was movement beside her and Buffy turned slowly to gaze at the male form lying in repose nearby. He was nearly buried beneath the sheets and blankets save for the shock of black hair and an exposed shoulder.

They had screwed all night long and Buffy still, for the life of her, couldn't remember his name. She pressed a hand to her forehead and searched her mind. Nope. She flashed back to the many times when she'd consumed more alcohol than was humanly possible...and paid for it in the morning.

There was the fraternity party in high school, when she and Cordelia had almost been sacrificed to the reptile demon.

And then the Cave-Buffy incident. That one she was never going to live down.

Getting drunk with Sp--

A groan from the man at her side interrupted Buffy's reverie and sent her into panic mode. Christ, what the hell was his name? Did it matter? It was too late now, Hottie was awake and he had bedroom eyes. Buffy's gaze traveled to where the blanket had fallen away from his body to take in the full-on morning erection that was waving hello to her.

"Good morning, luv," Hottie drawled thickly, scooting across the bed and closer to Buffy.

Pulling her toward him, they fell into a passionate embrace, mouths melding, tongues intertwining. Lost in the pleasure that Hottie was providing, Buffy forgot about her earlier panic. She found it difficult to maintain coherent thought as a strong male hand massaged her breast through the thin silken material of the nightgown she was wearing.

Hottie's other hand had managed to slip beneath the flimsy gown and was now traveling slowly up her thigh. His erection brushed her knee and Buffy immediately liquefied in his embrace. Her thighs were spread, the nightgown a footnote in history as it was torn from her body.

And then bliss.

Hottie buried his head between her thighs and blew lightly on the soft tangled curls of her mound, not caring that Buffy had fistfuls of his hair clenched in her fists, urging his head to the exact spot she wanted it. His tongue darted out, flicked over her clit, which sent Buffy's head slamming back against the pillows, an ecstatic cry of pleasure emitting from her parted lips.

In seconds, they were joined, Hottie thrusting so viciously that the headboard thumped against the wall in perfect rhythm to their bodies.

Buffy writhed and moaned, dug her nails into the skin of Hottie's back, wrapped her thighs around his middle, and urged him to go deeper...which he obliged.

Lost in her ecstasy, she didn't expect the flashback...and when it assailed her subconsciousness...Buffy's eyes flew open and her mouth rounded into an 'o'.

She closed her eyes again, languished in the memory...

Spike.

Oh God, Spike.

She could see him behind her eyes...naked...wanting her...desiring her. The sharp angular contours of his perfectly sculpted face begging to be cradled between Buffy's hands...the hooded desire in his azure blue eyes daring her to walk through the fire...daring her to burn with him... to allow herself to be consumed by the all powerful will of his own desire...which at the moment mirrored Buffy's.

In her mind's eye she walked to him, opened her arms and allowed Spike to step into her embrace. As her climax approached, Buffy kept her eyes tightly closed, not losing sight of her fantasy...the pale, muscular form of a vampire whose touch could send her body into freefall, set her skin ablaze...could turn her into molten lava...

She was coming and the scream that rushed from her throat came out as the sound of Spike's name...but Buffy didn't care. The pleasure was so powerful that she experienced, for the first time, a complete and total body orgasm.

The ripples descended from the top of her head, to the tips of her toes, until she felt as if she were truly being consumed by an all powerful force. When it was over, and Buffy had finally floated back down from the highest heights, the pinnacle of pleasure, she opened her eyes...

And found Hottie...staring down at her with a strange look in his eyes.

And Buffy knew.

She'd done it again.

Soundlessly, she got out of bed, retrieved her nightgown from the floor and padded away, leaving the man in her bed speechless and dumbfounded.


**

Buffy returned to her bedroom wrapped in a towel, fresh from the shower, and noticed that Hottie had taken his leave. Buffy sighed heavily and went to her closet. She was glad that Dawn had stayed overnight at a friend's house and that Giles was at some Watcher's retreat...there was no way she wanted either of them to witness her latest embarrassment. Throwing some clothes onto the bed, Buffy flopped onto it, staring at her hands.

This had not been the first occurrence of the Spike fantasy while she'd been with someone else. As much as she was enjoying her new-found freedom, Buffy knew eventually that she was going to be paying a price for that indulgence. She'd tried to ignore it, blow it off, but the more it happened, the harder it was getting to deny.

Now, she couldn't even have a one night stand without being inundated by guilt, or wracked by visions of the pale vampiric body that deep inside she ached for, yearned for.

When was it going to stop?

Getting to her feet, Buffy set her features in determination.

She wasn't going to let this consume her. Not today. Not ever again.

Spike was gone, he was dead. Buffy was still alive...and she was going to live her life the way she wanted to. Guilty conscience be damned.


**


Buffy stared into a cup of coffee, the bagel at her right hand untouched, and her mind barely processing the rock music blaring from the radio on the counter top. She flipped idly through the day old newspaper on the table, her eyes skimming over the articles, not really absorbing any of the information she was reading.

Today was Saturday, and normally she'd be sleeping the day away, waiting for nightfall when she could lose herself in the crowds and chaos of London's thriving club scene. But, for some reason, going out with her friends didn't sound that appealing. She dismissed the notion that her feelings might have had something to do with Spike. She wasn't about to go there with that today.

Maybe it was the letter from Xander that had come this morning. The envelope lay on the table, begging to be opened. She hadn't heard from the former member of the Scooby gang since they had parted ways in California, the day after Sunnydale.

Buffy didn't know where Xander had gone to, and every attempt to find him had been met with dead ends and silence. Giles had exhausted his resources at the Council, finally giving up after a couple of months had gone by and there'd been no word.

Now, a letter.

Buffy reached for the envelope, clasped her fingers around it and tested its weight in her hand. The envelope was thin, which meant the letter was just a page. But, at least it was something. She slipped a finger beneath the flap and tore it open, withdrawing the sheet of paper and unfolding it. The letter was half a page, single spaced. Turning the envelope over, Buffy searched for the postmark and was surprised to see that it read California.

So, he had remained there after all.

She gazed at the letter, holding her breath, reading the words. Immediately, a smile curved over her features, as tears welled in her eyes. She lifted her gaze from the paper and stared ahead a moment, the smile getting wider.

Xander was fine.

In short, he had done some soul-searching himself and had come to a crossroads, just as Buffy herself had. The letter had simply stated that Xander was doing fine, had found himself a place in northern California, far away from any Hellmouths...demons or vampires. And...he was getting married. He didn't mention the name of the woman or a wedding date, which meant the ceremony, would probably be private.

It was most likely better that way, judging by how badly the last attempt had gone for her friend. He was choosing to get hitched all quiet-like. Buffy could respect that and forgive the fact that she had not been invited. As long as Xander was happy, that was what truly mattered.

A chapter had been closed.

Her friend was still alive and he was doing well.

There was something to be said about God and small favors.

Setting the letter aside, Buffy got to her feet and went to the sink. She rinsed out her coffee mug, setting it on the drain board to dry. Just as she was drying her hands, her cell phone rang. Retrieving it from her purse on the counter top, she answered. The conversation was brusque and to the point. Moments later, Buffy was throwing her coat on and rushing out the door.


**


Buffy spotted Diego immediately as she weaved her way through the crowded cafe to the booth in the back. Her Italian friend, who normally greeted those closest to him in the most affectionate way possible, looked stiff and cold as stone. His features were hardened, his mouth set in a tight white line. His appearance almost caused Buffy to stop in her tracks. In all of the months she had known him, Buffy had never seen Diego look the slightest bit angry or upset.

This bothered her more than she liked.

Slowly, Buffy approached the table and waited. Diego turned and cheerlessly motioned for her to take a seat. Buffy did so with caution, surprised to find that she was holding her breath. Something must have happened for him to look the way he did. In her gut, Buffy could feel that something was wrong. She almost didn't want to know, almost pleaded with Diego to keep his bad news to himself. Almost.

But, curiosity was getting the better of her, so it was now or never.

"What's going on, Diego? What's with the cryptic?" Buffy asked, with a quizzical frown.

Diego's eyes traveled to the coffee mug before him, as he idly stirred the hot liquid with a swizzle stick, his expression stony and serious. Buffy was starting to get scared. This was starting to veer toward 'who died' territory. So, she repeated her question, which caused her friend's eyes to lift and meet hers. Buffy sat back in her seat when she caught his look.

It was bad, worse than she had imagined.

"Tell me, Diego."

The Italian shook his head sorrowfully.

"I am so sorry, Boffy."

"Sorry about what?"

Diego sighed heavily, pushed his coffee away and leaned forward, staring deeply into Buffy's eyes.

"I tried to warn you. Did you not get my emails? My messages?"

Buffy‘s eyes narrowed in confusion. What messages? There had been messages?

"What are you talking about? Messages...I didn't get any--"

"It is Spike," Diego blurted out suddenly.

The air left Buffy's body the moment the mention of the vampire sank over her. She blinked stupidly, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled for words. Each time she tried to say something; she failed, as if the sentences had died the moment they'd tried to leave her mouth. Finally, she composed herself, leaning forward.

"What did you say?" she breathed questioningly, her voice rising slightly with panic, fear.

Immediately, Diego reached for Buffy's hand. Pure instinct took over, and she pulled her hand away, her expression horrified, confused. "What about Spike?" Her eyes narrowed as she waited for the response. She didn't dare to hope--

"He is alive," was the next phrase to leave the Italian's mouth.

Buffy shook her head, the tears rushing behind her eyes. Diego studied his friend with widened eyes, gauging her reaction. Buffy's body began to shake uncontrollably and with the fluid motion of his hand, Diego had flagged a waitress, asking for water. Buffy had not noticed the exchange, her head was in her hands and she was mumbling to herself, the tears streaking down her face.

"This can't be happening," she whispered to herself. "I saw him die. I was with him, I touched him, I said goodbye to him. He. Can't. Be. Alive."

Diego was out of his seat and at Buffy's side immediately. He tried to embrace her, but her posture was stiff and unresponsive. Suddenly, she lifted her head, swung her reddened eyes to meet the Italian's gaze. Diego's heart broke at the betrayal he saw swimming behind the tears in her eyes. He hated that he had put it there, that he had hurt his friend.

"Tell me everything," she whispered huskily, brushing a hand over her eyes and sniffling. Diego shook his head vehemently.

"No, no...Boffy. I see that you are upset, I cannot--"

"Tell me, dammit!" she snapped, causing Diego to rear back in shock. Buffy's body began to shake, her features crumpling. "Please," she begged softly. Diego could only nod.

"I will tell you, Boffy."


**


Buffy felt as if she had left her body as Diego relayed the incredible story of Spike and the not-being-dead. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, but with every beat of her heart she knew it was true. Diego would never lie. Not about this, not to her. He was her friend; he would never hurt her by making up stories.

So, it had to be true.

Spike was alive. He was alive, dammit. The whole fucking time.

Suddenly, Buffy found that her confusion and despair had been replaced with anger. She tried to push the emotion away, but it continued to rise in her throat. She thought she might vomit...or pass out. She was helpless, hardly able to move. All Buffy could hear over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, was Diego's voice, the rich even tones as he went over the details of what he had seen.

Diego had planned a trip to Los Angeles, to meet with his lawyer at Wolfram and Hart. Upon his arrival, he had met with Angel and his partners, who had recently taken over the firm and were just getting their bearings.

Buffy already knew about all of these things, she had spoken to Angel, seen him briefly before she'd left California. Had Spike been at Wolfram and Hart then? Had he passed Angel's office in the hallway, had he seen Buffy sitting there?

Questions that Buffy didn't have the answers to flooded her mind. It was hard to concentrate on the story, but she did her best.

Diego had been catching up with Illyria, an old crony from his demon hunting days, as he was surprised to see her wandering the halls of a law firm. Just as she'd been explaining her new situation, a blonde haired man had popped his head out of a doorway and bellowed down the hallway for Illyria to get her blue ass back to the training room. Diego had been taken aback at the sight of Buffy's former paramour, alive and in living color right before his eyes. Before he'd had time to question Illyria about it, she'd disappeared, as well as Spike.

Diego finished his story and sat back, studying Buffy's reaction. She had balled her hands into fists, flexing and clenching them as she processed the entire story. The silence stretched between them until all that could be heard were the cacophonic sounds of the people patronizing the cafe. Diego leaned forward in concern.

"Boffy...you must say something. Please. Was it truly your Spike that I saw? Tell me I was not dreaming or seeing apparitions? I must know," Diego pleaded softly, his eyes searching her face for any sign that she might dispute his story.

Sadly, he did not see the denial he had hoped for, his body sagging with the knowledge.

Buffy's stare remained even. Her throat worked as she swallowed back tears that threatened to fall. Diego waited, holding his breath, hoping that a reaction would be coming soon and that he hadn't permanently damaged her in some way. In slow motion, Buffy turned her head, as if she were functioning purely on auto-pilot, her eyes meeting Diego's. He tensed, wondering what it was she was going to say.

"Show me," she breathed, her voice breaking as her emotions rose to the surface. "I need you to show me." Diego nodded curtly in agreement.

"I will show you. We will leave immediately. Shall I contact--"

Buffy raised her hand to silence her friend.

"We're not telling anyone. We're just going to go. I have to know, Diego. I have to. Ok?" Buffy replied monosyllabically, her voice cold and emotionless. There was no way to tell how she was feeling, and this made Diego slightly nervous. But, he nodded again.

"Whatever you say, Boffy. We will tell no one."

Wordlessly, Buffy got to her feet, pulled her jacket on and walked dazedly to the exit of the cafe, not caring who she bumped into along the way. The faster she got outside, the sooner she would be able to breathe again.

I have to get outside. I'm suffocating. I can't take this. I can't take this...Oh God...Spike...why did you lie?

These were Buffy's last thoughts as she pushed open the heavy glass door that led to the street. She hardly noticed Diego trailing along behind her.

She didn't care.

She had to see for herself, had to see with her own two eyes that it was true.

Spike was alive.

He was fucking alive and he hadn't even told her.

What the fuck was she supposed to do now?


**


End of Chapter Four

to be cont'd with chapter five: been down so long...

A/N: Chapter title taken from the Vertical Horizon song: 'Everything you Want'.
 

Chapter Five


~*Been Down So Long*~


**


Buffy raced into her bedroom, flung open the closet doors and yanked a suitcase from the top shelf, tossing it onto the bed nearby. She tore through the closet and the bureau, grabbing armfuls of clothing and stuffing them into the suitcase. Zipping it shut, she headed to the hallway, and raced down the stairs.

At the bottom, she nearly collided with Dawn, who had just entered the apartment. For a few seconds, the sisters stared at one another. Dawn's gaze traveled to the suitcase in Buffy's hand and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, perching a hand on her hip. Buffy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at the floor.

"Dawnie--"

"No!" Dawn cried accusingly. "I see what's going on here. You're leaving. Again."

"You don't understand. I have to--"

"Just go!" Dawn exclaimed, brushing past Buffy as she stormed toward the kitchen.

Buffy sighed heavily, dropped her suitcase on the floor and went after her sister. When she entered the kitchen, Dawn was slamming cupboards angrily. Buffy gripped her shoulder and whirled her around so they were facing one another.

"Listen to me, Dawn. I know what this looks like. I do. But, something's come up. I have to go to L.A. and I don't have a lot of time to explain. You just have to trust me. Please," Buffy explained, searching her sister's eyes and praying that she would understand.

Dawn stiffened, folded her arms across her chest and gave Buffy a haughty look.

"So, what am I supposed to tell Giles, huh? Should I tell him you took off, again? Make him worry like that? You don't even know what we went through in Rome, Buffy. You don't even know," Dawn muttered with a shake of her head.

Buffy sighed so heavily she felt as if her chest would crack in two. For as long as she lived, she knew that her self-imposed exile would be hanging over her head, affecting those around her. Hurting her family, her friends. But, there was no time to think about it, she had to explain to Dawn, some way, somehow, or she would regret it for the rest of her life.

A lump rose in Buffy's throat and she shook her head. Before she could stop them, the sobs were rising in her throat, causing her body to shake violently. She wrapped her arms around her body, tipped her chin to her chest and let the tears fall. Dawn looked on in silence, her anger ebbing away to concern.

Somehow, she knew that the circumstances of Buffy's hasty retreat were much different than before. Cautiously, she wrapped an arm around Buffy's shoulder and pulled her closer.

"What's going on, Buffy?" she asked softly. Buffy shook her head, unable to speak around the sobs that were wracking her body. Dawn waited for a moment until Buffy finally lifted her head, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.

"It's Spike," she replied shakily. Dawn reared her head back, eyes widening in shock and confusion.

"Spike? Buffy what do you mean...S-spike...h-he's dead..." Dawn stammered. Buffy met Dawn's eyes and then slowly shook her head.

"He's not, Dawnie. Diego...he-he saw him...in-in L.A. And now, I have to go there. I have to see."

Dawn pressed a hand to her forehead and shook her head in bewilderment. Taking a step back, she studied her sister.

"If it's true, and he really is alive, then why would he lie about it? Huh, Buffy? Why would he lie? Spike wouldn't do that!"

"I don't know," Buffy sobbed plaintively. "That's why I have to go. If I don't--" she couldn't finish the sentence. She covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Go, Buffy," Dawn finally said. Buffy lifted her eyes, widening them.

"Dawn, I--"

Dawn stepped toward Buffy, gripped her shoulder and guided her toward the front door.

"You have to go. I'll cover for you...tell Giles...something. But, you should go. Talk to Spike...o-or whatever. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for."

Buffy gazed tearfully at her sister and then threw herself into Dawn's embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around her slim waist.

"I love you, Dawnie," she breathed into her sister's hair, reaching out to stroke the fine brunette strands that hung down her back. "You know that, right?" Buffy lifted her head, tears glistening behind her eyes as she reached out a hand and tucked a lock of hair behind Dawn's ear. Dawn nodded.

"I know, Buffy. I love you, too."

Buffy nodded and reached for the suitcase, clasping it in her hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. She stared at Dawn for long moments.

"You better go, I think I heard a car pull up," Dawn said, motioning toward the door with a tip of her head. Buffy turned toward the door, walked to it slowly and reached for the handle. She turned to glance at Dawn once more.

"What am I supposed to do when I find him, Dawnie?"

"I don't know, Buffy," Dawn murmured with a shake of her head. "Make him explain. And then...tell him you love him."

Buffy's smile was watery as she lifted a hand in goodbye.

"Call me when you get there," Dawn muttered weakly.

Buffy nodded and then slipped out the door. Once she was outside, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked purposefully toward the rental car sitting in the parking lot. She opened the rear door, tossed her suitcase inside and then slid into the passenger's seat, pulling her seat belt around her. The car pulled away from the parking lot slowly, took a right turn and disappeared down the street.


**


It was raining in Los Angeles when the plane touched down at LAX. In London, it was snowing, but in California a warm rain was falling and temperatures were balmy. It was odd in this part of the country to experience any kind of humidity, but on this night it felt like the tropics in Southern California.

Buffy and Diego passed through the gate and headed into the bustling terminal of LAX airport. Neither of them spoke as they headed to the baggage carousel. As they waited outside on the curb for a taxi, Buffy couldn't help taking in her surroundings.

It had been nearly a year since she'd set foot in the States...or California for that matter. But, to Buffy, it felt longer. She was a different person than she'd been eight, almost nine months ago. It seemed as if she had just discovered her freedom. Now, in the cruelest way possible it had been torn from her, violently. In the space of a heartbeat, it seemed, her entire life had done a major 360.

Because of Spike.

At the thought of his name, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, tamped down the rising feeling of fear. Her stomach churned and tears stung behind her eyes. If not for Diego's presence, Buffy feared that she would fall apart. The insistent pressure of his hand at the small of her back was keeping her steady at the moment. She prayed he wouldn't leave her. She didn't think she would be able to handle this alone.

A cab pulled up to the curb, sluicing water as it treaded over the rain slicked street. Diego reached for Buffy's bag and walked to the trunk of the cab, tossing the bags inside. Buffy stood motionless on the curb, staring off into space. Diego was at her side seconds later, guiding her into the seat. He walked around the car and got in as well. The cab pulled away slowly, as drizzle gave way to a steady rain.


**


Buffy frowned when the cab pulled up to the front entrance of a hotel. She glanced at Diego who was making small talk with the cabbie and handing money over the seat. She poked his shoulder and his head whipped around.

"Diego, what are we doing here? We have to go to Wolfram and Hart. Now," Buffy said insistently. Diego shook his head, reaching for Buffy's shoulder.

"No, Boffy. First, we rest. Tomorrow we go to the law firm. Yes?"

"No, Diego," she answered with a vigorous shake of her head. "I can't sleep. Not now. Not with Spike--"

"Boffy," Diego interrupted softly, "it hurts me deeply to see you this way. Come now, we settle for the night. Tomorrow will still come. We live to fight another day. Yes?"

Buffy stared into her friend's hopeful eyes and released the breath she was holding. He was right. She wasn't in the best shape to be doing any confrontations at the moment. Her body was weak; her emotions were raw and dangerously close to the surface. Buffy wouldn't be doing anyone any good by showing up at Wolfram and Hart, looking the way she did, feeling the way she did.

Buffy couldn't allow Spike to see her as vulnerable as she was. She had to be strong, to be confident. She had questions and no one was going to be as forthcoming to a teary-eyed distraught Buffy. She would get answers the old-fashioned way...the Slayer way.

Diego was right.

Tonight, they would rest.

Tomorrow...

Buffy would get the truth.

Even if she had to pound the hell out of everyone that stood in her way.


**


Dawn pressed the 'mute' button on the remote when saw the headlights. The TV fell silent and Dawn listened, holding her breath, feeling her heart pound in triple time as keys hit the door. Giles entered, stomping his feet and shaking the snow from his coat. He greeted her cheerily, hung his coat in the closet and started sorting through the mail.

Dawn got to her feet and walked toward the man who had been a surrogate father to her over the years. She didn't know what she was going to say to him, how she was going to tell him that Spike was back, that Buffy had run to L.A. the moment she'd discovered the truth.

Giles sensed Dawn's presence immediately, glancing up from the envelopes in his hand. He half-smiled, half-frowned at the young girl's expression. Tenderly, he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"What is it, Dawn? You look troubled," he asked, softly.

Dawn lifted a hand to her forehead, trying to find the right words to explain to Giles, but found that she was having difficulty. He looked content, peaceful, so far removed from the guilt and the pain that had shadowed his features those first few months that Buffy had been gone, that Dawn couldn't bear to imagine what kind of hurt she would bestow upon him.

"Dawn?" Giles questioned. The tenderness he had exhibited moments before had changed into worry, concern. He glanced around the living room, craned his neck toward the kitchen and then met Dawn's eyes. "Where is Buffy? Has she been in, yet?"

"No, Giles," Dawn replied shaking her head slowly. "She's not here."

Giles placed the envelopes he'd been holding back on the table and gripped Dawn's shoulders, peering closer so he could look into her eyes.

"Where is Buffy, Dawn?"

"Giles--"

He made a frustrated sound in his throat, released Dawn and began to pace the floor.

"Where is she, then?"

Dawn stepped in front of Giles, halting his fervent pacing.

"Just stop, Giles. Ok? Let me explain. There's this thing, alright? Buffy...s-she had to go...Los Angeles..."

"Los Angeles!" Giles bellowed, "what the bloody hell is she doing going back to Los Angeles!"

"Giles, please...just listen to me!" Dawn cried futilely, her eyes following the Watcher as his pacing became frantic, almost panic-stricken. At Dawn's pleas his steps halted, and he turned to face her. Dawn sighed, squeezed her eyes shut and searched her brain for the right words.

"It was about Spike," she finally said. Giles stiffened immediately, his brow furrowing, eyes narrowing.

"What did you say?"

"Spike, Giles. He's alive...o-or something. Buffy wasn't exactly clear. She was pretty upset. She had to go. I couldn't stop her. Could you have stopped her?"

Giles pressed two fingers to his temples and shook his head in disbelief, when he glanced at Dawn her expression had wrinkled into worry. He took two steps and clasped her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

"When did she leave?"

"This afternoon. Why? Giles...what are you going to do?" He released her and stalked to the closet, ripping open the door and pulling his coat out.

"I'm going to find her, is what I'm going to do," he muttered, shrugging into the coat. Dawn crossed the room and faced Giles.

"You can't do that. She had to go alone. This is something she has to do. We can't help her," Dawn pleaded. Giles didn't seem to hear her as he reached for his cell phone.

"I'm calling Mrs. Ptrovsky to keep an eye on you while I'm gone. Stay here. Don't go anywhere," Giles muttered absentmindedly, as he patted his pockets in search of his keys. Dawn trailed Giles as he headed to the door. She jumped in front of him, pressing her body to the door, blocking his exit.

"I can't let you do this, Giles. You have to understand, Buffy needed to go. She has to find Spike. If she doesn't--" Dawn stopped short, shook her head and then continued. "Buffy needs Spike. If she doesn't go to him, then we may lose her forever. Don't you understand, Giles? The moping, the crying, and the seven months she didn't come home to us? Don't you get it?"

"Dawn please, remove yourself. I don't have time to wallow about. Buffy is not well..."

"SHUT UP!" Dawn shouted the sound so loud and piercing that Giles took a step back, momentarily dumbfounded at Dawn's heated outburst. She raised her hand, motioned the air before her as she tried to regain her bearings. Her hand fell listlessly to her side. Giles regarded Dawn worriedly.

"I think it would be a bad idea for you to go after Buffy," Dawn spoke softly.

"I believe you're wrong," Giles said, with a shake of his head. "She needs help. We are her only family, Dawn. Now please, let me pass." She shook her head vehemently.

"No."

"Dawn--"

She remained firm, not moving a muscle. A few tense minutes passed until finally, Giles relented. He sighed so heavily that his body trembled. Wearily, he removed his coat, draped it over a chair nearby and then glanced Dawn's way.

"I will give her two days. If she doesn't contact us, if she doesn't come home...I'm going after her."

Dawn nodded, a half-hearted smile curving her mouth.

"That's good, Giles. She just needs time. I promise it won't be like the last time. You believe me, right?" she queried innocently. It seemed an eternal moment of silence stretched between them as Giles pondered his answer. He lifted his head, removed his glasses and gave her a long look.

"I want to believe you, Dawn. I wish I could believe you."

With those final words, Giles trudged from the room, his steps heavy and slow. Dawn pressed a hand to her chest and let out a breath. She prayed she had done the right thing, for Buffy's sake. She had never seen Giles give up the way he had.

In the span of the few minutes that their heated conversation had taken place, Dawn could have sworn that Giles had aged in rapid succession. The creases in his forehead had deepened, his posture had sagged. It scared her to think what Buffy was doing, not only to Giles, but to Dawn herself. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling sadly.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Buffy," she whispered. She turned slowly and then headed up the stairs to her bedroom, feeling as if the weight of the world had parked itself square in the center of her shoulder blades.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Giles was pouring himself a healthy glass of scotch, sipping it thoughtfully. He drained the glass and then poured himself another. Moments later, the bottle was hitting the wall and shattering into a thousand pieces. Giles sank into a chair, rested his head in his hands and didn't move.

For hours.


**


Buffy hadn't slept. She'd tried, Lord knew she'd tried, but she found the feat damn near impossible. As she stood under the hot spray of the shower, she tried to sort through the tangled webs of confusion in her brain. She thrust her head directly beneath the spray, letting the water sluice over her body, soak through to her bones.

God, she was tired.

The last twelve hours had taken a toll on her; she could feel it in her muscles, a deep-seated ache that had somehow traveled to her heart and her mind. There was nothing she could do to ease the pain...no pill she could pop, no tonic she could drink. Something was settling over her, it was heavy, it was unmovable. It was permanent.

Spike...

How long had she thought of this moment? How many months had it taken to purge his image from her mind, to banish his presence from her dreams? Just when she imagined life without him, accepted that he wasn't going to come back...this. And the guilt...the goddamned guilt. Buffy thrust a fist against the tiled wall before her and squeezed her eyes shut.

How many nights had she lain awake, blaming herself, replaying every single moment in her head, wishing there had been some way she could go back in time and fix things? And now...without as much as a phone call, a letter, a goddamned smoke signal...he was back...had been back for months.

No word whatsoever.

Did he hate her that much?

She felt a sick feeling in her gut at the thought. God, it was true. Spike hated her; he hated her so much that he hadn't bothered to tell her that he was alive. Suddenly, everything was starting to feel like one gigantic lie.

Buffy found herself at a crossroads. All those years he'd been around her, pounding over and over into her head his feelings for her, trying to make her understand. And what had happened? He'd betrayed her.

She was starting to believe that she had brought it upon herself.

She was getting what she deserved; reaping what she sowed...being held accountable for past sins so innumerable that it would take a lifetime to recount them all.

The hot water started to run cold and Buffy reached for the tap, twisting it off. She stood motionless, watching as the water slid from her body, pooled into the drain at her feet.

One thing became clear in her mind. It stood out, demanded to be noticed. It was something that couldn't be denied, pushed away, bottled up.

Goddamn it, she loved Spike.

It was absolute, unending.

And she was going to face him soon. Buffy could hardly control the trembling of her body as her thoughts glided into a different direction. She pictured Spike in her mind...conjured a mental image of the man she remembered...and felt something wash over her.

Love.

Her knees went weak. She pressed a hand to the wall nearby to steady herself.

Blonde hair.

Leather duster.

The distinctive smell of cigarettes, blood and booze.

Those eyes that had seen more than she could possibly imagine, the hands that had ghosted over every curve and inch of her skin, fingers that had strummed her body like a perfectly tuned guitar. The mouth...

Aah God...

Buffy released a shaky breath, willed her heart to slow its rapid thrumming against her ribcage.

She was going to see Spike.

What the hell was she supposed to say to him? What was she supposed to do?

Wrapping a towel around her body, Buffy realized that she didn't have the slightest clue as to what was supposed to happen when they finally faced each other.

She supposed they would burn that bridge when they reached it.


**


Buffy could feel the worried glances that Diego kept shooting in her direction as the cab sped down the streets of downtown Los Angeles. The rain from the night before had faded and the sun had appeared. The streets were crowded and chaotic as throngs of people pushed there way through, making their way to places they had to be. No worries. No cares. Just single-minded determination.

Buffy couldn't understand how everyday life could go on around her, when her world had been thrown into a cataclysmic tailspin. Two nights ago, she had been carefree, happy and dare she say it...content. Today...

Today was a different story.

Buffy's stomach was twisted into knots, her fingers bloodless and cold. She shivered, clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering and looked everywhere but at the Italian at her side. For some reason, she was having difficulties looking him straight in the eye, as if her mannerisms could give away how terribly frightened and nervous she was. She tried to summon the cool, calm and collected exterior of the Slayer within, but found that it was getting harder to maintain that facade.

She just wanted to get this over with. As soon as possible.

She didn't dare admit to herself how petrified she was.

Spike wouldn't even know what hit him the moment she entered Wolfram and Hart and confronted him. No one was expecting her arrival...not Angel...not Wesley...no one. She could prepare herself for what was to come, mentally go over the words she wanted to say, but there was nothing that could take away the trepidation.

Buffy had faced so much over the years...gods, demons, vampires, monsters...not much had fazed her. But this...this was proving to be a feat bigger than Buffy herself. And she didn't understand why it was so hard.

With Spike, nothing was ever easy, Buffy surmised to herself. Everything about him was complicated, and definitely not cut and dry. The relationship they had had in Sunnydale couldn't even be summed up with words, couldn't be defined so easily.

Buffy hoped the easy part would be coming soon.

The cab came to a halt with a jerk, which jarred Buffy from her reverie. She took in the ominous building, and tried to quell the churning in her stomach. Diego touched her arm and she jumped, letting out a strangled cry.

"So sorry, Boffy. We are here. Shall we go inside?" Diego asked softly. Buffy turned to face her friend and came to a conclusion. This was something she had to do on her own. Diego could not help her now. She reached out, cupped his face with her palm and gave him a small smile.

"Let me do this," she whispered. "I have to go alone."

Diego was silent a moment. Buffy held her breath. Finally, Diego nodded.

"Of course, Boffy. I understand. I will be waiting at the hotel. You will tell me everything, yes?"

Buffy nodded.

"Yes. I'll tell you everything."

She leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his cheek, her palm lingering a moment there as she pulled away. She reached for the door handle, and then faced Diego once more.

"Thank you," she breathed and then exited the car, slamming the door closed behind her.

"You are welcome, mi amore," Diego whispered as he studied Buffy's retreating form.


**


Locating Angel's floor hadn't been a problem. Finding her former lover and the resurrected vampire in question, well...that was becoming another. Oddly, the offices were empty, completely void of any sign of life. Buffy wandered an empty hallway, peering into each office she passed.

Strange. Where the hell was everyone? It was mid-afternoon on a weekday and as far as Buffy knew law firms, even evil ones, didn't close up on a whim. She passed the largest room with glass walls all around, and knew she'd come to Angel's office.

She'd been there once before, but had been too wrapped up in her own problems to really pay attention to her surroundings. And she'd been in and out so quickly that nothing had really made an impression on her. But, Buffy had to admit, she was a little impressed. She stepped into the office and glanced around. Angel, for all intents and purposes, had definitely moved up in the world.

New digs.

New gang.

New life.

And a brand-spanking new web of lies.

The complete package.

Buffy shuddered briefly at the bitter turn her thoughts had taken. This was not the attitude she needed to have. She was here to do one thing and one thing only.

Find Spike.


**

…“Then we're all agreed?”

“Yeah, we're all one big happy Manson family.”

“We taking 'em all at once?”

“Can't. Circle of the Black Thorn is the most powerful group in this plane of existence. Together, they'd vaporize us, but separated, they're just demons.”

“When do we make our move?”

“Soon. In the meantime, we have to keep up the infighting. The circle needs to believe we're coming apart at the seams…”


**


Buffy pressed her body tightly against the wall she’d ducked behind and held her breath. She’d heard the entire conversation taking place in a conference room just a few feet beyond the hallway and realized she had the most perfect timing in the world, or the worst, depending on how you looked at it. Quickly, she peered around the corner and searched the area…they were gone.

Slowly, she extricated herself from her hiding place and broke into a run, not bothering to look back. Once she had safely reached the ground floor of the building, she stopped to catch her breath and then exited the law firm.

Ten minutes later, she was in a cab headed toward the hotel where Diego was waiting for her. She closed her eyes, released a breath and then began to mentally replay what she had heard and seen.

Something was going on in L.A.

And it began with an 'a'...the one word in the English language that Buffy truly despised.

Apocalypse.

Buffy didn't realize how shaken she was until she lifted her hand to her face and saw it tremble. She hadn't seen Spike, hadn't even spoken to him, but she'd heard his voice...and it had been enough to rattle her to her core. Now, this apocalypse business. Buffy shook her head ruefully.

When it rained, it poured.

She had to talk to Giles. And soon.

Before it was too late.


**


End of Chapter Five

to be cont'd with chapter six: world falls away…

A/N: Promise there will be Spuffy soon...I'm just setting things up...please be patient with me, thanks!!!! Dialogue taken from AtS Season Five episode, 'Not Fade Away', courtesy of Buffyworld.com. Chapter title taken from ‘Down So Long’ by Jewel.

 

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