Title: Aimless
Author: Sanguine
Email: Amanda@sidhe.org
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.
Distribution: With permission.
Rating: PG-13 (graphic violence)

He watched her walk aimlessly into her house, her head down, slightly dragging her feet. This was not good. A cloud of smoke temporarily blurred his vision. He blinked and her slight body reformed before his eyes. He decided. He wouldn’t approach her. His head still swam. Drinking with Captain Cardboard. He laughed silently at himself. The girl reached for the door.

Buffy Summers sat down heavily on the carpeted hardness of the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her reflection in the mirror. To the casual observer her face might seem placid, even calm. Then a tear ran down her cheek. Angrily, she swiped at it, took a breath, and strengthened her resolve.

Morning came as it always did. She combed her hair before the mirror in her bedroom, the bedroom she had inhabited when she was in high school and now inhabited again because of her mother’s recent illness. She ran downstairs and thought about breakfast, but her stomach informed her that wouldn’t be wise. Sounds from above told her that Dawn was awake. In the back of her mind, she remembered about Glory, but somehow it didn’t really seem to matter at all. Newsflash: another person wanted to kill her! She found the telephone in her hand and dispassionately punched in numbers.

"Hello?" She heard the familiar clipped accent on the other end.

"Riley left me."

Giles cleared his throat. He was not surprised by this turn of events. "Buffy, I’m . . . I’m so sorry. What happened?"

"He couldn’t take it. The pressure of being around me. All the slayage. All the death." She laughed flatly. "Anyway, now I can focus full time on that destiny thing of mine, right Giles?" A sarcastic edge entered her voice.

"Well, yes. Yes, I suppose you can. But Buffy . . . you need people around you. You wouldn’t have made it . . . " He stopped himself, and sipped at his tea, the rest of the sentence too painful to pass his lips. He began again, more softly. "Don’t forget about us. We’re here for you." He heard a click on the other end.

She had hung up.

Buffy left the house, slinging a bag full of slayer weaponry on her back. She felt the excitement rise as she strode towards the cemetery. Prime hunting ground for vamps. She didn’t even care if they weren’t awake to fight. She just wanted them all dead. All of them.

"Willow? It’s Giles."

"Hi Giles," Willow Rosenberg answered sleepily. She glanced over at Tara and absentmindedly stroked Miss Kitty Fantastico who lay between them. "What’s up?"

"Willow, I’m very worried about Buffy. She phoned this morning and told me that Riley left her. I don’t know what happened but she didn’t sound . . . well, she didn’t sound all there. She was talking about fulfilling her destiny. Perhaps you could go and see if she’s alright? I think she might need to talk to a friend right now."

"Will do. Poor Buffy."

Willow sighed and began pulling on her clothing, her face drawn with worry. "I don’t know how much more Buffy can take. First her mom, then this." Grabbing her keys, she headed out the door.

Willow knocked on the door. Once. Twice.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dawn. It’s me. Open up."

The door swung open. "Hey Willow! Whatcha doing here?"

"Is Buffy around?"

"Nope. I saw her heading out the door with her slayage bag. Bit early for patrol, but you know." The girl paused. "Is something good going on? Can I come and watch?"

Willow smiled at her enthusiasm. "No and no Dawn. Buffy would kill me and then you. Death before I’ve even had my coffee. Not a good thing. . ." Willow paused, trying to keep her tone light. "You don’t know where Buffy was headed, do you?"

Dawn shrugged. "As if she’d tell me. She never tells me anything good."

"Thanks Dawn. If Buffy comes by, tell her I was here." With that, Willow rushed away from the house, thinking desperately about where her friend might have gone. Slaying stuff. Destiny. The cemetery? Fighting sleeping vampires was hardly a challenge, but if Buffy was upset enough . . . Going there alone . . . Possibly very outnumbered . . . Willow’s walk broke into a run as she called the other members of the Scooby Gang on her cell phone.

Buffy didn’t even bother to be stealthy as she broke into the marble mausoleum. "Weber" the engraving on the outside said, but the Webers weren’t the only inhabitants anymore. A group of rather straggly-looking vampires were gathered, some sleeping, some telling tales of the previous night’s hunt. Buffy drew the stakes from her bag and in complete silence dispatched all of them, leaving little piles of dust on the floor. Coldly she turned and moved to the next marble structure, palming a vial of holy water along with a stake. She wanted the next kill to take some time. Words echoed in her head. "Death is on your heels baby, and sooner or later it’s going to catch you." Her lips tightened as she whispered, "It’ll catch you first."

The door to Spike’s crypt flew open with a bang, sunlight painfully flooding in.

Spike’s whiskey bottle dropped from his hand as the sunlight hit his exposed skin and began to smoke.

"Bloody hell Slayer! Shut the door." His voice sounded slightly thick and he struggled to get out of his chair.

Buffy strode purposefully over to the blonde vampire, her eyes expressionless as she pushed him back down. "Hello Spike. I just thought I’d let you know that you’ve gotten your fondest wish. You’ve destroyed me. At least any part of me that would care about killing you . . . a poor, defenseless creature." The last words she hissed just inches from his face, taking delight in his discomfort.

"Now Slayer . . ." Even in his rather drunk state Spike knew this was very serious. Very serious indeed.

Buffy shoved him down in the chair once more with one hand. Pinning him there with impossible strength born of rage she breathed, "What Spike? So eager to leave so soon? We’re just getting started. I want you to feel the pain you’ve made me feel. Then I’m going to kill you." Deliberately she uncorked the holy water and dipped her finger in and gently ran it over his lips.

Spike screamed in pain and desperately tried to escape from her grasp, but the Slayer seemed stronger than usual. He was completely helpless.

"Of course you know Spike, what it’s like to lose someone you love."

Spike looked at her cruel, emotionless eyes and said with complete sincerity, "Yes, I do."

Willow, Xander, and Giles heard a scream of pain coming from one of the crypts. "Owwwww!" "Spike," they said simultaneously and ran for the crypt’s door.

"Owwww!" The yelp came again as sunlight flooded the crypt. A few wisps of smoke drifted over from the chair where Spike sat, pinned down as the Slayer sat on his lap, almost lovingly administering a bath of holy water to his ravaged face.

"Buffy!" Giles swiftly closed the door.

Buffy didn’t even turn from her work.

"Buffy! Buffy! He can’t even fight back. What are you doing?"

Buffy slowly turned. "Pain Giles. Pain." Then lightly she tossed off, "I just thought I’d pay a little visit to Spike and administer some before I kill him."

Xander stepped forward and touched Buffy’s shoulder. Already she was dipping her finger in the holy water for another go at Spike’s face. "Buffy. It’s not his fault Riley left. You obviously didn’t make it in time?"

Buffy’s eyes softened momentarily and she paused. "No Xander, I didn’t. Maybe the Slayer is meant to be alone."

"Buffy, I’m sorry." Xander put one hand on her shoulder. "This won’t make you feel better though."

"Really?" Buffy batted away Xander’s hand and took up a stake. "Maybe it will." With lightning speed she drove her stake home . . . into the upholstery of the chair then ran out of Spike’s crypt.

Spike shook. "Almost dead. Twice in two days. Bloody hell."

Harmony gasped as she watched Spike tear around the crypt , muttering to himself.

"Spikey! What are you doing? What happened to your face? It’s all burned and icky." Her lovely ceramic unicorn crashed off her bedside table as he rummaged through the drawers.

"Where is it Harmony?" He had a murderous glint in his eye as he slammed her head against the cold stone wall of the crypt. His voice lowered dangerously as she struggled. "I had $200 dollars in that table there, and now there’s only $100. Where did the other hundred go . . . pet." He spat the last word in her blank face.

Struggling, she broke free, rubbing her neck. "Well, didn’t you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Mr. Grumpy? I told you I was going shopping for some new things for us." She gestured to a bag in the corner.

Spike looked inside the bag and his fury mounted. Porcelain unicorns and teddy bears.

She smiled. "Do you like them? Macy’s was having a midnight madness sale."

As his face vamped, Harmony dodged the flying porcelain that he aimed at her head. "Spike. I just thought I’d brighten the place up. You’ve been in such a bad mood, I thought you might like something cheerful." A flying unicorn hurtled towards her head and connected.

"Spike!" She squealed in pain.

"Get out. I staked you once Harmony, and I’ll do it again. Take all your sodding teddy bears and unicorns with you."

Harmony’s eyes squinted with malice. "Is this about the Slayer? Is that why you’re being so mean to me? Have you failed again Spike? Has she beat you up again?"

"Get. Out." Spike broke off a nearby chair leg. "I will kill you, you know."

"But Spike. . ." Harmony whimpered. "Where will I live?"

"Bloody hell. I don’t care." Angrily he gathered up her trinkets and pushed her to the door and then pushed her though.

Outside, Harmony picked up her bag full of broken porcelain, petulantly examining the now detached horn from her unicorn. "I will get you for this Spike. I wonder if your old girlfriend knows what you’ve been up to lately? I don’t think she’d be pleased." Harmony looked in her bag for her cell phone and hit 3 on her speed dial.

Drusilla woke up slowly from her dream, a glorious dream of dollies and nuns and chains. "Grandmother. I’m ringing again."

Buffy pushed the tea away that Giles offered her. As if tea would make everything OK. Looking at her Watcher’s face, she saw concern and something else . . . fear. "Buffy, you . . . you might be strong but you can’t just overpower creatures that are helpless. Even if the creature happens to be Spike. You have a sacred birthright . . ."

"To kill vampires Giles, remember? I kill things. That’s what I do. End of story."

Xander chimed in. "Why are you so hepped up on killing blondie all of a sudden? I haven’t noticed him being more annoying than usual." He paused. "This has something to do with Riley, doesn’t it?" Buffy tried to keep her face impassive. "It does! What did Spike do Buffy?"

"I really don’t care to discuss it."

"Buffy, I’m very concerned about you. The past few months you’ve been hunting, not just patrolling, not just doing your job. And now torturing Spike when he can’t even fight back? You’re going down a dark path Buffy." Giles removed his glasses and wiped them with the corner of his shirt, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "I . . . I know. I’ve been there."

"We’re all there for you Buffy. Don’t push us away," Willow chimed in.

Buffy laughed. "Don’t push us away." She whirled to face Xander. "You’re always boffing your ‘once in a lifetime gal’ Anya. And you Willow," she smirked. "You’ve gone all experimental on me. What can we talk about? Doing . . . spells?"

Willow’s face fell. "Buffy, that’s uncalled for."

"I’m a Slayer folks. Maybe I’m not cut out for girlfriend-dom . . . or friendship." Coldly she glanced at her watch. "I’ve got class. So if your little lecture’s over Giles, I have another one to catch."

Giles watched her leave the magic shop, the bell ringing violently as the door slammed shut behind her. "Go and follow her Xander. She needs to be watched right now. We don’t want to lose her."

"Since when do vampires have their addresses listed in the Yellow Pages? Poofter!" Spike muttered under his breath as he tore out a page with a stylized angel on it. L.A., City of Angels. This place hadn’t been that good to him last time he visited. Sure, torturing Angel had been fun (ah, memories!) but he’d failed to get the Gem of Amarra back. A real shame as he had so enjoyed beating Buffy up in broad daylight, seeing her in the sun of Sunnydale. As he remembered taunting her about Parker on the quad, his fist connecting painfully with her beautiful body, he felt excitement and something else. "Maybe I did push her," he considered, touching his blistered face. "Bloody hell Spike! You’re pitiful."

In the darkness he could just make out the edifice of the former hotel. Feeling the stake in the pocket of his leather duster he entered the building. "Angel?" He looked around the dimly lit lobby. "Angel?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, his found himself in a painful choke hold.

"Spike. How stupid are you? Should I just snap your head off and have it over with?" Angel’s eyes glowed furious yellow in his vamp face.

"Angel . . . man . . . I need to tell you something. Important!" Spike forced the words out painfully through his constricted larynx.

Angel’s vamp face disappeared as he released the blonde vampire. "If you’re here to taunt me about Dru, I already know."

Spike’s dark eyebrows raised in shock. "Dru’s in L.A?" he said slowly, the habitual feelings of devotion resurfacing. "I thought she was in Brazil."

Angel drew a stake and pressed its point into the flesh above Spike’s heart. "So this isn’t about Dru? Talk. Now. I’m an impatient man and I don’t have time for your nonsense."

"OK. OK. Here it is. Nice and quick. I need to hire you." He pulled a wad of bills from the pocket of his duster. "You’re all about redemption, saving people’s souls right? Well your little ex-girlfriend’s losing it. Soldier boy left her and she’s gone all dark and angsty."

"Oh, so that’s what happened to your face. I have to admire her work, that girl. She’s an artist." Painfully, Angel slapped Spike’s raw skin.

Through the intense pain, Spike’s anxiety level increased. Looking in Angel’s eyes, he thought he saw Angelus, the demon, staring back.

"Why do you care anyway Spike? Self-preservation? Afraid she’s gonna finally get around to killing you?"

"Yes . . . I mean no . . . I mean . . . well that’s besides the point. Angel, she’s really lost it! I mean really. She doesn’t care about anything anymore."

Angel laughed bitterly, thinking about the employees . . . the friends he just fired. "I know the feeling."

Spike considered his next words carefully. "If you still love her, you’ll go to Sunnydale and talk to her. She needs to see you."

"What I feel for Buffy is irrelevant and is really none of your business." Spike’s head slammed painfully into the concrete wall. "Buffy can take care of herself . . . mate. She has Giles and Willow and Xander. She has her own life. Her own friends. This Riley business is all just part of growing up. The heartbreak. The pain. Yadda, yadda, yadda. It has nothing to do with me. Besides . . ." Roughly he threw Spike across the room. "I have pressing matters here to attend to. I just can’t leaveright now." Darla. Drusilla. Wolfram and Hart. As if in a movie he watched himself closing the door on Holland and his wine tasting party and felt a twinge of guilt. The ends justified the means?

"Angel, you pillock! She’s gonna get herself killed."

"Spike, why can’t I bring myself to believe you? Oh, that’s right. Because you tortured me the last time I saw you. Our bond of trust is just broken beyond repair." Menacingly he picked up the stake. "Now get out before I decide to use this."

"Fine. Fine." Spike held up his hands in surrender. "But if your precious Buffy ends up dead, don’t think I didn’t warn you first."

Angel considered Spike for a moment, puzzled by the intensity, the borderline desperation he heard in the vampire’s voice. "Just get out Spike, before I regret letting you leave."

As Spike left the building, two images spun in his head: Dru caressing one of her dolls and Buffy dipping her finger in holy water for another go at his face. Dru was back. Part of him wanted to go find her, but a bigger part wanted to go back to Sunnydale. He sighed, "I really am love’s bitch."

Drusilla wandered down the streets of Sunnydale, clutching Miss Edith in one hand. Grandmama had said she could go and pay a visit to her boy. She’d heard very naughty things about what Spike had been doing in Sunnydale. An insane jealousy rose up in her. "Miss Edith, we’re just going to have to punish my little Spike, aren’t we? And the Slayer too, floating round his head like stars." She spotted a man standing on the corner looking at his watch. Morphing into vamp face she approached him. The man looked at the demon in pure terror, but it was too late to run. Strong hands snapped his neck and a gleeful voice cried, "We’ll snuff her out!"

Buffy walked on patrol alone that night. Earlier in the day, she had caught Xander following her and an ugly scene had ensued. Finally, he had seen reason and left her alone, albeit reluctantly. Buffy’s eyes scanned the cemetery as she looked for vampires to dust, momentarily lingering on Spike’s crypt. She really wanted to hurt him some more, but she decided to save that for later, when the Scooby Gang wasn’t on high alert. She could bide her time.

With her heightened senses, she heard a vampire approaching on her left. Almost nonchalantly she staked it. No fuss, no muss, no chitchat. Simple. Clean.

A few stray dust particles still hung in the air, but as they cleared she began to make out a figure.

"Hello Slayer."

"Dru." Buffy whispered, the elation building in her. This was going to be fun. What perfect revenge! She could kill her and send the dust to Spike. Tit-for-tat, mate.

"I’m back and strong and sparkly new, ready to drink from you. Ooh!" Drusilla clapped her hands together with almost childlike glee. "I made a rhyme."

"I’d say it was nice to see you, but I’d be lying. Let’s just get this over with."

"Oooh. You’ll have no crumpets with your tea. And Spike won’t have any either. He won’t come to the party because he’s been a very naughty boy." She paused sadly. "I’ll have to make new invitations for him . . ."

"You talk too much." Buffy lunged at her with a stake, but Drusilla moved swiftly out of the way, expertly catching Buffy across the face with her hand.

"Why won’t he come to the party? Because he has Buffy everywhere. It’s all over him, dripping from him."

"Now you’re starting to annoy me." Buffy whirled and kicked Drusilla in the abdomen, sending her flying over a gravestone.

Quickly, Drusilla recovered and pulled a jeweled dagger from her pocket. "They’re whispering that today is the day the Slayer dies. It’s so exciting!"

"At least you’re a challenge, Dru." Buffy punched her in the face and dove for the knife. Unbidden, a thought came. Would it really matter if this knife sunk into her heart? She could die today. Perhaps she would welcome it after all.

Somehow she missed the knife. Before she could even consider another course of action, she was pinned to the ground, with Drusilla smiling maliciously down at her. The dagger dug into the flesh of her neck and Drusilla licked her lips, thinking about the taste of Slayer blood on her tongue. Her voice lowered seductively. "I can hear your blood singing to me." And with that, the demon became visible and bared its fangs, plunging towards the pulsating vein in Buffy’s neck . . . and then turned to dust.

Buffy shook violently. She had wanted it. She had wanted it badly. She had wanted it all to be over. Taking a shuddering breath, she saw who had dusted Dru.

Spike.

Spike stood, mouth open, stake in hand. Heavily he sat down on the ground, and let the dust of his former lover run through his fingers. Tears began to well up in his eyes. "Dru." He choked. "Why’d you come here love? Why’d you make me choose?" Bitterly he swiped at his eyes, turning them angrily to Buffy. "Are you happy now Slayer? Are you? Is this what you wanted?"

Buffy couldn’t reply or move. Sobs wracked her body as she lay on the cold, wet ground of the cemetery.

Spike watched her for a moment. Gently he raised Buffy to a seated position, and for the second time when confronted with her tears his anger melted. Tentatively, he put an arm around her shoulder. She collapsed, emotionally and physically exhausted, her cries piercing the star-filled night sky.