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15 Departures
 
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Chapter 15 - Departures

Wesley hung up the phone from his call with Spike and walked out front.

“Fred, do you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

He perched on the edge of her desk. “Spike, er…implied that you knew something about Smith’s death.”

She scrunched up her face. “Kinda maybe.”

“Spike killed him,” Wesley said flatly, “despite what the police reports said. I didn’t discuss it with you for reasons that have become obvious. However—”

“Spike called last night and wanted to know about addresses and offices and times,” she blurted. “He asked me to hack into camera feed from last week and check things—and you said if he ever showed up when you weren’t here just to give him whatever he wanted, and even though he was only on the phone and I was home you weren’t there so I did, and I figured it didn’t really matter since it was about the guy after Buffy, and Spike was protecting Buffy, and I forgot to tell you because you were late and then I was asleep, and then the next morning when he turned up dead, I figured out what must have happened but I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Because?”

“Because he went and killed someone with the information I gave him.”

“Fred, you don’t seriously think that Spike wouldn’t have found a way to kill Smith without your assistance?”

“I know, I guess… It’s just a squicky feeling. Like when you see the person next to you copying your answers but can’t stop them, only a whole lot worse?” She looked down and then up again. “This is one of those never-speak-of things, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes.”

-----

It was three days later, on an early Monday morning that Hank cheerfully declared that Spike’s services were no longer needed. His announcement was met with silence from Buffy and Joyce.

Spike had wondered how long it would take for Hank to hear about Smith’s untimely demise.

“And how would you know that for sure, I wonder,” Spike broke the silence, only to have it replaced by one more oppressive. It was the topic that no one wanted to acknowledge. Buffy didn’t even know the worst of it, why Smith had wanted her— He was unsure how much Joyce knew, or what Hank had told her. Not that it mattered. “Right. Well, I’ll get my things and clear out.”

He turned and headed up the stairs. A moment later, Buffy appeared in the doorway.

“So you’re just leaving?”

“That’s kind of how it works, pet.”

“But everything’s really okay? It’s not just Dad saying something else?”

“You’ll be fine. I talked to the Watcher,” he lied. “No one will be comin’ after you.”

“Because?”

“The guy’s dead.”

“How do you know?”

Cause I killed him. “Things like that are news.”

“So, that’s it? It’s over?”

“Apparently.”

Buffy realized that he already had on his coat and had his bag in hand. “Will I ever see you again?”

“Probably not.”

“But…I mean, I’d like to.”

“Wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“But I thought you—we—” Her face fell. “Is—is there someone else?” Why had she only thought of that just now? Spike probably had a vampire girlfriend or something.

“No, there’s not.” He stood in front of her.

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

His look softened for a moment. “Course not.”

“Then why? I don’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t be a good idea,” he repeated. “G’bye, love.”

Before she could say another word, he kissed her on the cheek, shouldered his bag, and walked out the door.

Buffy stood in the room alone, resisting the urge to follow him out.

They’d lived in the same house for two weeks. There was no reason that the thought of never seeing him again should make something in her twist.

She heard the bike start up, and listened as sound died when he drove away.

-----

Buffy went to class and gave all the appearances of paying attention, though she didn’t hear a word that was said. At lunch, she didn’t even notice when Cordelia sat down on the bench next to her.

“So where’s tall, bleached, and handsome?”

“Huh? Oh, he’s gone,” Buffy said.

“So it’s all cool? You’re safe?”

“Apparently.” Buffy played with the straps of her bag.

“Well, try not to look so mopey then.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, I get it.”

“What? There’s nothing to get.”

“Uh-huh,” she said doubtfully.

“Spike said—”

“Ah-ha! It is about him.” Cordelia grinned. “So he’s not your bodyguard, so what? Doesn’t mean you can’t see each other.”

“Apparently it does.”

“He said that?”

She nodded.

“Oh. Well, he’s an idiot then.”

Buffy suddenly felt defensive. “It’s complicated.”

Cordelia raised a brow. “Complicated how?”

After thinking about their conversation that morning, Buffy had a feeling that Spike’s refusal to see her again had something to do with the whole vampire thing. Even if he hadn’t come right out and said it.

When she didn’t say anything, Cordelia continued. “Well, if you don’t wanna dish, I’ll stand by my conclusion. Idiot. Complicated idiot.”

-----

Walking past Fred with a nod and a “mornin’ love,” Spike stepped into Wesley’s office.

“I presume you’re here for the rest of your money.”

Spike nodded, and Wesley turned to his safe. “I finally had a phone call from Mr. Summers,” he said as he spun the lock. “He thanked me for our services and assured me I would be getting the other six thousand, though I’m not counting on it.”

He pulled an envelope out, but didn’t immediately hand it to Spike. “Six thousand would be payment for four days, the one he owed us for, plus three more, evidently.” He raised an eyebrow. “Certainly after Smith was gone, you were unneeded. Though of course vacating immediately would lead to questions, for how were you to know he’d been killed?”

Spike shrugged and took the envelope.

“However, you gave me the impression that you were leaving the night I told you the check didn’t clear. I had been looking into other alternatives for Miss Summers, at least until Fred showed me the morning’s police scans, at which point I realized it was most likely unnecessary.”

“Yeah, well.”

There was a considerable silence before Wesley spoke again. “Certainly I must be overlooking something, but try as I might, I could think of only one reason for you to so vehemently tear Smith’s throat out, not to mention staying on unpaid.”

“Good for you.” He walked to the door, then paused. “It’d better be a long time before you call me up again.”

Spike walked out feeling irritated at something he couldn’t pinpoint. He never should have taken this job. Steal something, off somebody, provide backup muscle, intimidate—those were his usual haunts. He’d worked for humans before; if they had the cash, he had the time. He’d even done body guarding before, but it had never messed with him.

But then, he’d never gotten involved, never felt anything more than a detached obligation to anyone before.

Still, leaving shouldn’t have been so hard. He had known he was going to do it. And it’s not like seeing her would really work. It was better this way.

Getting on his bike, Spike headed downtown. He needed a good kill to clear his head.

Which was why, he reflected, that it was better this way. Better for her.

-----

When Buffy got home from class, the house seemed eerily quiet. Which it shouldn’t have, really, since Spike had stayed in his room at least half the time.

Not his room. The guest room.

He had gone…wherever vampires go.

Buffy turned on the TV to fill the silence, but found herself moping through her favorite programs. Her mother came home early, and dinner was quiet and dull. She never saw her father at all that night; later, she wasn’t even sure he’d come home.

She went to bed early, and truthfully, she didn’t feel like doing anything else. She couldn’t stop thinking about Spike. Which sort of troubled her in a way, as she’d never been one of those girls who obsessed and pined. But she couldn’t help wondering about what he’d said. Or what he hadn’t said.

And had she done something, or read too much into things? Maybe he’d liked her, but not as much as she thought. They had never discussed the kiss or had another one. The weekend had passed much as other days had, though Spike had seemed a bit disconnected.

After an hour of thoughts that wouldn’t stop, she crept down the hall and into the guest room. Her mother had already stripped the sheets off the bed, but she curled up on it anyway, grabbing a blanket from the couch.

This was just for tonight. All of this was stopping first thing tomorrow.

It had to. He was gone.

-----
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Over the next few days, things returned to normal for Buffy. And really, it was easier to try not to think about Spike, rather than to wonder about him.

So she went about her life.

Which was how she found herself out clubbing with Cordelia on Friday, though her heart clearly wasn’t in it. Cordelia had said that Buffy needed to get back into the swing of things. So she’d gotten on the floor with the mob, randomly dancing with whoever happened to be near. She’d barely talked to anyone, but Cordelia hadn’t noticed.

When Cordelia said she was leaving with Justin, Buffy cheerfully declared her intentions of staying longer, but as soon as the two were out of sight, she sighed to herself and turned toward the bathrooms. She was going home.

As she made her way down the hall, a side door opened and she was suddenly yanked out into the alley.

It all happened in seconds, though time seemed to crawl.

She was thrown roughly against the wall, and then pulled up by her shirt before she could stand. The door to the club slammed behind her and Buffy opened her mouth to scream. But the sound died in her throat when she saw her captors.

Three men, but their faces were distorted, their teeth long and sharp… Vampire, some part of her mind screamed, while the other part said, But Spike didn’t look like that.

The first one tossed her to one of his friends, who caught her arms as she slammed into him. He only held her wrists, but try as she might, Buffy was unable to pull away. The third one came closer, and she had the terrified realization that he was leaning in toward her neck.

Oh God, I’m really gonna die.

“In one piece, remember?” the leader growled, pulling him back.

“What do you w—” Buffy started, only to be silenced by a blow to the face.

“You’ve been hard to get, little Slayer. Haven’t been out much by yourself after dark, till now.”

“Please,” she said, flinching and closing her eyes when she saw his hand move for another strike.

But the blow never landed, at least not on her. She realized they were fighting—probably over who got a taste or not. Just perfect. No, that is perfect.

When the grip loosened on her arms, Buffy immediately pushed away and made for the street. But she hadn’t gotten two steps before one of them grabbed her and spun her around. Her hopes sank when she saw that a vampire had her again.

She wouldn’t get a second chance at a getaway, even if it was just him. The other three were lying unconscious—wait, three?

The vampire with his hand on her arm had platinum hair.

“Spike?”
 
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