AUTHOR'S NOTE: While reasearching Victorian era mourning costoms, I came across something interesting. While in the extended mourning period, people in Victorian England would wear jewelery,like watch fobs or rigs and pins, with skulls on them. I don't know if M.E. knew this, but it's an interesting fact.
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AUGUST 30, 2002-SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA-

His coat billowed behind him as he walked the small town’s streets. Sunnydale used to crackle with life at night, but now it was dead. It might as well have been a ghost town. By the looks of things, the rumors were true. The telephone call hadn’t been some kind of sick joke. The Slayer was gone, and he was sure that anyone that lived here knew better than to venture out after sunset.

The smarter vampires and demons that were here once, had left for greener pastures; their food source had dried up. That suited him just fine. He wasn’t looking for a meal anyway.

What he wanted was information, and he knew just where to start.

There were faint traces everywhere he turned, but nothing recent. It was like they’d both vanished into thin air.

As he walked out toward the edge of town, out past the mansion on Crawford Street, and Brook Side Park, he reached Restfield Cemetery. His nose told him that Spike had, until recently, spent a great deal of his time here. As a matter of fact, Spike’s scent was strongest around a particular crypt.

Angel knew exactly where to go; he could track Spike from miles away. As he approached the door of Spike’s crypt, another scent assailed him. A scent he knew well. Though admittedly, he’d only caught that scent once, it wasn’t something he was likely to forget.

One doesn’t forget losing one’s soul. And, he had tried.

He could smell her now- her and Spike. It was old, he knew, but he didn’t care. Spike should * never * have been allowed to touch what was his. He had been taught.

Still, the scent lingered- and enraged him.

He hadn’t wanted to believe what Giles had told him. But now he knew it was true, at least part of it. And it was the truth that he couldn’t stand.

The air reverberated with a growl.

Angel couldn’t believe that Spike could have done this. Buffy was his and he knew it. Angel knew that Spike was slow…but this? Taking what was his was unforgivable.

Soul or not, Spike needed to be taught a lesson.
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Coming out of Willow’s room, Dawn hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but last summer had sharpened her senses when it came to Spike’s emotional state. Any difference in tone or inflection could mean that the next time she came by his crypt, all she’d find was a pile of ash. Spike had become very important, almost indispensable, to her and her emotional well-being that summer.

She learned to read “The Book of Spike” very well. And, judging by what she was hearing as he talked to Giles, it would be a long time before there was a happy chapter unless she did something fast. She knew that Buffy was still in Lois’s room.

Dawn knew from experience that Spike’s capacity for guilt, even before he went to get his soul, could be crushing. It wasn’t the all over guilt that Angel said he felt- Dawn had serious doubts that Angel could feel any guilt at all- Spike didn’t feel guilt for being a vampire. But, he did feel guilt when it came to Buffy. She’d seen that first hand.

As she headed for his crypt with the jeweler’s pouch in her pocket, she wondered what he would think. Would it make him happy? Would it make him sad to know that she had found it and that Buffy had kept it?

She quietly opened the crypt door, and wasn’t surprised to find the upper level darkened. He was just as sad as she was- maybe more.

“Spike?” she whispered, stepping further inside, “I know you’re here. So I’ll just…tell you,” she heaved a breath, “I was going through Buffy’s things…and I found something…”

“Don’t want anything of hers, Bit,” Spike croaked.

She could tell that he’d been crying, “I understand that,” she said softly, squinting her eyes to try and see him, “But this…it belonged to you…once. I thought you might want it back.”

“What could she have…” his voice ebbed, “…had that I would want?” he asked, slowly stepping out of the shadows, and stood in front of her.

She reached into her pocket and fished out the ring, and taking Spike’s hand with her empty one, placed the skull ring in his empty palm.

He stared down, dumbstruck, “Why would she keep this?” his voice shook.

She gave him a small smile, “It was important to her. You were important to her?”

“Was I, Bit?” he whispered, because he could not manage to make his voice any louder, “Was I, really?”

The sound of his voice told Dawn that he needed to know that he mattered to someone. He needed to know that he mattered to her, and to Buffy, before the night that he left for Africa.

Dawn knocked on Buffy’s door, and slowly opened it; seeing her sister sitting on the bed curled into a tiny ball, broke her heart, “Buffy…you need to tell him.”

“I did!” she sobbed, “I don’t think he believes me!” Dawn could see that Buffy’d been crying for a while, because her eyes were red and puffy.

“You didn’t think he’d believe you,” she snapped her fingers, “just like that, did you?”

“Why not?” Buffy sniffled, wiping at her face, fiercely.

“Buffy, for a Slayer, you’re pretty dumb,” Dawn said, shaking her head, “You told him that you love him now. He needs to know that you loved him before too.”

“I did.”

“Have you shown him that?”

“How do I do that, Dawnie?” Buffy whispered, her voice small and childlike.

Dawn smiled, “When you,” she lowered her eyes, “were gone, I had to help Spike through a whole lot. And, I learned a few things,” she sat next to her sister and patted her knee, “Do you still have that skull ring, the one you took from his crypt after he left?”

“I didn’t take it Dawn, I…”

Dawn rolled her eyes, “Fine, borrowed then; or Clem let you keep it, or whatever,” she smirked and muttered, “You big klepto,” she teased, “Do you have it?”

“Yeah…”

“Here?”

“Yeah…why?”

“Get it and I’ll show you why!” Dawn chirped excitedly as she headed down the stairs.