Chapter 29: Traces Left
I just want to tell you
That your face and your smile
Will remain next to me
Always along my way
Want to say it was real
All we did
All we said
All we didn’t do or say
I don’t want to regret
Even the pain and hurt
Were real and worth it
Maybe we’ll meet again
Maybe we will
Maybe not
Just know I’ll still be there
It will remain, this other flame
Warming me and warming her
A part of you that shall not die
*****
Spike frowned at the computer screen, and hesitated between laughing and cursing. One thing was sure, it wasn’t his soul that made him a bad poet. That particular trait seemed to have persisted through undeath. But then again, he had never really had any doubt about it.
Shaking his head at the latest of his pathetic attempts at poetry, he repeatedly hit the backspace key until the whole thing had disappeared into nothingness. One thing he liked about computers… no papers to burn, no traces left when he once more realized his skills were still adamantly lacking.
For a little while, his finger remained on the key as he tried to decide. Should he erase all the stuff his souled self had written a couple of weeks before? He hadn’t read any of it again since his return to vamphood, but he had no doubt that it was just pitiful. And yet… writing these things had helped him survive, just as Buffy had. Most of them were about her, too. For her. He had let her read a couple of them, the ones that seemed not as bad as the rest. He certainly wouldn’t let her read any more of it now; he didn’t quite fancy being on the receiving end of that recently too blunt tongue. But at the same time, he couldn’t make himself erase these words that ultimately belonged to her.
He planned to take the laptop when they left, maybe use it to keep in contact with Dawn just a little, make sure she was alright. Maybe. Or maybe not. Would it even be safe? Could they be tracked through the net? That was a possibility to check out. He couldn’t leave anything to chance.
Leaving the computer on, he sauntered into the kitchen. He could still hear Buffy’s shower running, so he had a little more time to finish his transfers – he was leaving Buffy’s laptop behind, with all the data for the online Magic Box, so that Anya wouldn’t need to start again from scratch.
As he emptied a bag of blood into a mug to warm it, the thought suddenly struck him that maybe it was the last time he would be doing this particular thing. Tonight, they would be on their way. As soon as she came down, he would tell her. They would keep a low profile until the next night, then they would go see the poof and get their passports before heading out of the country. Maybe grab a bite before leaving the town completely, LA was big enough that they could hunt safely away from the Hyperion. Enough wrongdoers who deserved a painful death, too. He was pretty sure he could convince Buffy that murderers and rapists tasted better than common folks. Not that he had ever cared one way or the other in the past, it just was a last tribute he wanted to pay to his Slayer’s soul if he could.
The microwave beeped and startled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t hunted in so long… Really hunted. The bastards he had been punishing for the last few months didn’t count, because he always knew he wouldn’t kill them. But a real hunt… Picking out a prey, playing with it just a little, and then draining it dry… And doing all of this with his Childe… The blood he was sipping from the mug suddenly tasted very bland, even if it was human.
For some reason, he just couldn’t picture himself really hunting with her. And yet, he had seen very clearly that she was just as much a demon as he was. Maybe more, even, because she had no qualms killing people she had known, while he…
He had maybe two seconds of warning between the time he heard abnormal noises in the backyard and the moment the back door burst open. The mug shattered on the floor, spilling blood everywhere, as his foot caught the first intruder in the middle of the chest, sending him backward against his fellow trespassers. It didn’t slow them down though, and Spike just had the time to realize that these people suspiciously looked like his old friends of the Initiative before a couple of them shocked him with tasers. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Soldierboy, a stake in his hand, and he just had time to think that Buffy would kill the wanker, and that it would be a pity for him not to see that.
*****
The day was long for Manon, and incredibly boring. Willow and Tara, after her little attempt at magic, seemed reluctant to leave her alone, so they awoke her early and dragged her to the Magic Box with them. Willow had called the programming company where she worked, and Tara her preschool, both claiming to be sick so that they could research some more on Buffy’s soulless state. Manon was a bit puzzled by it, since the night before they had agreed that they would probably find nothing and needed the help of the Council. Andrea had phoned earlier, to make sure Manon was alright and safe with the Witches, and announce that she was coming back to Sunnydale with other Watchers to find a solution. So really, all they needed was to wait, and the problem would soon have an answer. Except that the two women, as well as Xander, kept researching as if no help was on the way. Anya was the only one who had given up.
So, all day long, she was trapped in the store, with nothing to do but train alone, since the Scoobies had decided it was more prudent not to let her look through magic books. It wasn’t long until her thoughts settled on the two absent vampires. She was sorry for Buffy, sincerely, because she had liked the kindness of her elder, and, from the little she had witnessed, the new soulless Buffy was anything but kind, at least not to anyone human. She was also sad for Spike. True, he had come very close to killing her, and the ring of fading bruises around her neck was a proof of that, but she had seen afterwards how deeply he was shaken by what was happening to Buffy, so she couldn’t really hold it against him. She only wished he didn’t know about her attempted spell. He must really think she was pathetic, now, if he had time to think a second about her, which she really doubted.
Finally, by the end of the afternoon, the Scoobies decided to visit the not so friendly anymore vamps. Anya declined to go, and forbade Xander to tempt fate by meeting Buffy. So it was just the Witches and Manon who went there to check if Spike was still in control of the situation, and of Buffy.
When they knocked on the door, no one answered. Exchanging a worried glance with Tara, Willow tried to open the door, finding it unlocked, and they all entered, as quietly as they could. There was no sound in the house. The living room was empty, and so was the kitchen. But all three women let out surprised gasps when they noticed the mess in there. There was drying blood all over the floor, spread by footprints. There were also shards of porcelain. A stake. And ashes.
Blinking repeatedly, almost trying to make the scene in front of her disappear, Manon stepped further inside the kitchen, avoiding walking in the blood, and picked up the stake, careful not to touch the ashes. She looked at the cold object in her hand, as if by staring long enough she would make it tell the story it had witnessed. Make it say whose ashes were on the floor.
“What… what do you think happened?” Tara mumbled.
“They would never have fought each other,” Willow said strongly, though Manon could see that she was shaking too.
There were a few seconds of perfect quiet, until suddenly Manon’s senses alerted her that a vampire was close. Her eyes found Buffy, by the kitchen’s door, who was looking at the oblivious women in front of her with something that looked way too much like hunger for Manon’s comfort. Her golden gaze shifted, trailing over Manon, dismissing her like she was inoffensive, and then finding the mess on the floor.
“What happened?” she growled softly, startling the two Witches.
They both turned and took a step back, walking in the edge of the blood traces. If they answered the vampire’s question, Manon didn’t hear it. Because an awful realization had come to her. If Buffy was fine, then it could only mean that the ashes on the floor were Spike’s, and she was sure she was going to be sick.
*****
The first thing Buffy saw as she came downstairs after her shower was the two Witches. They had their backs to her, and hadn’t noticed her presence, so it would have been very easy to kill them both. There was of course the Slayer just a step farther, and the kid had seen her, but she didn’t have a chance against Buffy, even with the stake already in her hand. Then Buffy found the source of the strong scent of blood, scattered on the floor. And mixed with the blood, ashes.
In a fraction of second, she was ready to attack and kill all three women, who had the sheer stupidity to come to her lair, kill her Mate and stay around for her to find out, when she noticed something else. The flame in the back of her mind was still there, bright and warm, unwavering. Spike had said she would know the very instant he died, because the flame would disappear. So. The ashes weren’t him.
“What happened?” she asked coldly, and the Witches finally became aware of her.
“We just came in,” Willow said, her voice slightly shaky. “We don’t know what…”
“Did you kill him?” Manon cut in suddenly.
Buffy crossed her arms as she observed the kid. She was gripping the stake so hard it was a surprise it wasn’t snapping in two pieces. Her whole body was trembling, and her eyes were cold, angry. And full of tears. Did she really believe she could take Buffy, let alone when she was obviously upset?
“I should kill you for even suggesting I would do such a thing,” Buffy said with a growl, baring her fangs.
“Then who?”
“No one. Spike is fine. Wherever he is.”
It was her Slayer sense giving her this little bit of information. If her Sire had been in the house, she would have been able to feel his presence.
“But the ashes…” Manon insisted.
“Not him,” Buffy replied curtly, then turned her attention to the Witches. “Do a spell. Locate him.”
Her demand seemed to pull them out of their shock. They looked at each other, then to Buffy again.
“How do you know he isn’t…” Willow started.
“I know, that’s all. Are you going to do that spell or will I have to resort to threats?”
A little angry light appeared in the Witch’s eyes, but she didn’t comment.
“I need a map,” she said levelly.
Nodding briefly, Buffy walked out of the kitchen to retrieve the maps they kept in the dining room. She noticed that both computers were on, and it only confirmed that Spike had been taken away. He wouldn’t have left these things on. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling her. Someone had taken him by surprise in the kitchen, more than one person judging by the numerous footprints in the blood. Someone had put ashes on the floor, trying to make her believe he was dead. Someone was going to pay. And die a very painful death.
A/N: My sincere apologies to JJ Goldman and anyone who likes his songs for using, abusing, mistranslating and shamessly adapting to my purpose a very beautiful song of his called “Confidential”.