Author's Note: Some people have observed that this story isn't getting updated as often as 'Blue Horizons'. This is, unfortunately, true. I've still got a long way to go on that one, and I'm trying to finish it by the end of May. However, I will keep writing chapters of this one, it just might not be more than once or twice a week. After all, I'm only human, right? ~_^ Thank you for your patience.

Previously: Dawn's determined that the Haunting is fucking with everyone's heads. Last night, it tried to make Spike bite Veronica. Fortunately, Spike was on the look-out and disaster was averted. Also, Buffy once more heard her phantom pianist (no, not 'penis'; get your minds out of the gutter, people! ~_^), but the apparition escaped before she could close in on it.

"Xander?"

Buffy's voice was hoarse, ragged, as she came upon the lifeless body of her friend. Black scorch marks had burned through his shirt, leaving ugly red welts across his chest. He had undoubtedly died instantly.

"Xander's here?" Anya's voice sounded hopeful as she followed Buffy into the remains of Sunnydale High School. Her face instantly paled at the sight before her, unable to comprehend it. "N-No..." she stammered before rushing over to the body of the ex-fiancé. She shook his shoulders futily three times before she finally turned back to Buffy. "Do something!" she pleaded, tears in her eyes. "Help him!"

Still not fully comprehending Xander's death herself, Buffy nodded and turned to go find Willow. Willow had brought her back from the dead. Surely, she could save Xander. It was a testament to just how traumatized Buffy was that she didn't realize that Willow was the only one that could have hurt him in the first place.

Instinctively, she ran for the Hellmouth, winding her way through scorched black corridors. It seemed only fitting that this should be the place where the Scooby Gang was finally destroyed. A site of beginnings and endings...

Tears streamed down Buffy's face, and she ran harder, plowing the remains of the library doors off their hinges in her haste.

She froze at the sight before her. Willow, hair red once more but eyes still black, sat in a chalk pentangle in the middle of the library. An eerie, unnatural glow lit up the scene and, as Buffy watched, Willow ceased her chanting and raised a wicked-looking dagger. Before Buffy could even think to stop her, Willow slashed one palm.

The sound of her friend's scream of pain coupled with the sight of blood pooling onto the floor finally brought Buffy out of her stupor.

"Willow," she pleaded, "stop this."

The witch's eyes turned to hers, and for an instant Buffy almost thought she saw the green eyes of her best friend, just plain old, innocent, ordinary Willow...

The witch mask was back in a second, even though tears were sliding down Willow's cheeks. "I have to end it," she insisted in a shaky voice. "There's nothing left to live for..."

"Willow, don't do this," Buffy argued with her desperately. "There's still—"

"I killed him," Willow hissed bitterly. "My best friend, and I killed him like he was nothing. I deserve death."

Buffy ignored the fact that she'd had similar thoughts earlier. All that mattered now was that she'd already lost one best friend; she couldn't stand to lose another...

"Please, Willow," she begged. "There's so much in this world—"

"But not Xander or Tara!" Willow shot back. She took the knife in her wounded hand and stabbed the other palm, the wince of pain causing her to fall sideways. However, the blood offering had its effect, and the dark crack that was the Hellmouth's only physical manifestation began to glow with an unearthly light.

"I'll stop you!" Buffy insisted. "I won't let you—"

"Just try and stop me," a bit of the old Big Bad Willow slipped out in her snide tone.

Brow furrowing with resolve, Buffy ran at her and crashed to a stop when she encountered the magical barrier that surrounded Willow.

"You can't stop me," Willow repeated, holding the knife in both bleeding hands. "I have to do this. For the good of the world..."

"Willow, no!" Buffy shrieked, but it was too late.

The knife was imbedded in the witch's gut, and she gasped in pain, trying desperately to stay conscious long enough to complete the ritual. "By the power of my blood, I bind myself to this gateway. I am its Mistress, and I command it—"

The barrier before Buffy fell away with Willow's most recent injury, and she dashed after her former friend in a desperate attempt to save the world once more.

"—closed forever!" Willow cried out with more strength than she should have had at that point.

Buffy froze, stunned into silence. Not only had the apocalypse not happened, but Willow had prevented all other apocalypses to come...

"Forgive me." The whispered words slipped past Willow's lips as she fell to the ground.

Buffy ran to her once more, sobbing. "I forgive you, Willow. I love you..."

And then, with a burst of flames, Willow and the Hellmouth were gone forever.

"No!"
 
 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Buffy's eyes blinked open with a start, her body still shivering at the horrible memory. She didn't know where she was, only that Willow and Xander were gone forever, and—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Blearily, she turned to the door and realized that someone was banging against it frantically. Instinctively, she leapt out of bed and ran for it, mindless that she was clad only in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of lacy black panties. She flung the door open wide and...

"Slayer, are you all right?" Spike's eyes were wide with worry, and he was only wearing the red robe she'd seen him in the previous morning. His hair was a disheveled mess, indicating all too clearly that he had just been asleep as well.

"S-Spike..." she whimpered in relief, collapsing like a rag-doll into his arms, sobbing out her grief into the cool, smooth planes of his chest.

"What's wrong, luv?" His voice was soft, the way it had been when she had first been brought back. "The spook come for you?" He looked around the room intently, every one of his enhanced senses hyper-aware.

"Willow..." she whispered, fingers clinging to the silk of his robe. "No..."

Spike breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Just a dream, then? Christ, Slayer, I thought it was killin' you the way you were screamin'..."

Buffy gasped for air, hyperventilating slightly, and wrapped one arm around his waist to hold him tightly. She felt her fear recede and that relaxing calm overtake her as she snuggled against his chill body, listening to the soothing accent of his voice.

Spike's expression softened at the sight of her clinging to him like a child, frightened and sobbing and... "'m so sorry, luv," he murmured into her hair. "Know it doesn't mean much, but 'm so sorry..."

Her body responded to his words, and she wondered not for the first time if this was some sort of thrall he had. It was uncanny just how quickly he could make everything feel better. With that thought, the temperature of her skin seemed to rise, and she finally became fully aware of the hard body that supported her. The fingers clinging to his lapels loosened slightly and began to move ever-so-slightly against his chest. Not quite caresses yet, but the beginnings of a more intimate touch.

She pulled back enough to look into those beautiful blue eyes of his, and she felt her heart catch at the hidden passions within. Oh yes, she could bury herself in this man, forget about all her troubles, if only for a little while...

Unconsciously, her lips angled towards his, closing the distance between them.

Spike's eyes widened, and he gasped in shock, pulling away.

Buffy froze for a minute before she realized one she'd almost done. Shakily, one hand rose to cover her mouth, a look of shocked horror on her face. "Oh my god," she gasped. "Spike, I didn't mean ... I was just..."

What had she been thinking? His comfort was something to be cherished and returned, not used for her own selfish gains. That was the mistake she'd made last time. She'd never bothered to appreciate him, just used and used until there was nothing—

"Buffy?" Spike ventured to step forward into her room, concerned at how she seemed to have collapsed inward. He hesitantly reached out to touch her shoulder, but she crumpled at his touch, curling into a little ball on the floor and sobbing once more.

"You've an evil, disgusting thing!"

"You're beneath me."

"The only chance you ever had with me was when I was unconscious."

"You were just...convenient."

"There's nothing good in you."

"I could never be your girl!"

"Soulless..."

"Disgusting..."

"Monster!"

The words seemed to be whispered into her ear, reminding her of past grievances and yet at the same time...enticing her?

No, she screamed inwardly, I'm not like that anymore. I'm not!

Spike knelt down before her and cautiously reached out with one hand to brush a lock of golden hair from her forehead. She seemed to recover somewhat at his touch, and her eyes were focused once more when they met his.

"I-I don't deserve it," she said raggedly, backing away from his touch once more.

Spike immediately seemed to close off, rising to his feet once more. "Right, then," he agreed passively, his tone gone icy cold. "'ll just be on my way..."

"No," she whimpered, fingers tangling in the hem of his robe and turning him back to her. "Please, don't go," she requested, eyes still tear-stained. "I-I need to tell you..."

Spike sighed in frustration. "What, Slayer?" he demanded, scowling down at her in an annoyed manner.

"I'm sorry."

The words were so soft that both of them were barely able to hear them.

"P-Pardon?" Spike stammered, convinced he'd heard wrong.

Buffy took a deep breath and repeated confidently this time, "I'm sorry." Just like that, the voices whispering in her ear stopped.

Spike blinked in surprise. "'S nothing to be sorry for," he began.

"No." She rose to her feet and wiped away the last of her tears before venturing a shy smile up at him. "I mean I'm sorry for everything," she clarified.

Spike's knees suddenly felt a bit weak. Never, even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined that high and mighty Buffy would actually apologize to the likes of him. Not even knowing how he got there, he landed in one of the hotel-issue armchairs.

"I'm so sorry, Spike," she repeated, finding the words amazingly easy now that she finally allowed them to come out. "The way I treated you... It was just wrong. I was wrong, and there was no excuse for it. I was so horrible to you all those years, even before I died. And then..." She sighed. "I never should have used you like that. I took your love for me, and I turned it into something dirty, and I'm so sorry. A-And that night in the alley..." The tears were back now.

He turned away from her as well, humiliation and insecurity written all over his handsome features.

"Everything I said, everything I did," she went on. "It wasn't you, Spike. It was me. All of that was meant for me. I just took it out on you because you were there, and it was wrong. I don't expect you to ever be able to forgive me, but I want you to know that the monster that did that to you is gone. I slayed her once and for all."

He looked up at her at that, a hint of a smile on his face. "Never do anythin' by halves, do you, Summers?" he inquired.

"Completely slayed," she agreed, her own lips quirking slightly.

"I did, you know," he began with a sigh, running one hand through his already tousled white curls. "Forgive you. That very night I forgave you. I wouldn't've even left, but Dawn..." He trailed off.

Buffy bit her lip, pondering her next statement for a while before finally responding. "I'm glad she did," she decided. "I'm glad that there was someone there for you, someone who could save you. You deserved that. You deserved better than me."

"I didn't want anythin' better," he pointed out firmly but kindly. "All I ever wanted was you."

She bit out a bark of laughter and sat on the edge of the bed. "God, we're fucked up," she decided.

He grinned at that. "No arguin' with you there, luv. No arguin' with you there..."

"Thanks for helping me out with this," Dawn said, slamming her trunk shut after Rick had deposited the grocery bags inside. "Most people squick at buying bags of pig's blood from the butcher."

"Including some butchers, apparently," he agreed in his usual softly-accented voice.

Dawn grinned at that. "I think I freaked him out a bit," she agreed. "It's funny. When I grew up on the Hellmouth, the butchers looked at you oddly if you didn't tack on the obligatory two pints of blood to every order." She walked around to the driver's side and hopped in.

Rick mirrored her actions on the other side of the car. "What is it you have discovered about this contact?" he inquired, holding his breath as Dawn ripped out of the parking lot, taking off down the freeway at a nice, healthy pace...for daredevils, that is.

"David McKenzie." Dawn flipped her notebook out of her pocket with one hand, the other firmly planted at the twelve o'clock position on the steering wheel. She began to read over her notes. "His mother was one of the original coven members who died and—"

"Watch the road!" Rick called out in alarm, covering his eyes.

Dawn easily steered around the van she'd come up upon, still half reading the information Siggy had handed to her. "I was taught to drive by a demon," she explained with a mischievous grin.

"I can tell." A little smile slipped onto his lips.

She laughed back before obeying his wishes and putting her notes aside. "I'm hoping he'll be a bit more open than—" She trailed off when the flashing blue and red lights of a police car appeared behind her.

"I believe it is as you Americans say," Rick began, " 'busted'?"

Dawn grimaced and pulled over to the shoulder, but the police car just whizzed on by, followed by a second and then a third. By the time the ambulance had passed them as well, both were incredibly worried.

"The Lodge is that way," Rick pointed out what they were both thinking.

Dawn nodded before pulling back into the fast lane and slamming the gas down to the floor. "This can't be good," she decided...

Her suspicions were confirmed when the beat-up Chevy finally careened to a stop just behind the lengthening line of police cars.

"W-What's going on?" Dawn played up the frightened, helpless woman bit as she and Rick approached the first of the officers. "M-My sister..."

"I'm sure your sister's fine," the officer assured her. "There was just a hunting accident, and—"

Dawn and Rick exchanged a look and didn't bother to stick around for the rest of it. They ran into the lobby to find a gawking circle of onlookers surrounding none other than Tucker. The hunter held his arm in a sling, the bandage encompassing it red with blood.

"What happened?" Dawn demanded, shoving her way through the crowd and giving them all the evil eye.

Rick backed her up, looking quite menacing with his black sunglasses and leather. Slowly, the crowd dissipated around them.

Tucker seemed a bit stunned at first but then turned to look at her. "It was an accident," he insisted vehemently.

"What was an accident?" she pressed.

"B-Bob and John," he gulped. "They got to arguin' on account of Bob's drinking, and then Bob waved his gun and..." He shivered.

"What's all the fuss about?" Lena whined, entering the lobby. "It woke me up from my beauty sleep."

"Could you be any ruder?" Xel shot back, antennae obviously twitching under his human guise.

"We may have had our next attack," Rick informed them in his quiet manner while Dawn urged Tucker to continue.

"He didn't mean for it to go off," he insisted, hands clenched at his sides.

"Bob shot John?" Dawn clarified. "By accident?"

Tucker nodded. "The safeties were off 'cause we'd heard something stalking around in those woods—"

Rick twitched almost imperceptibly.

However, Veronica, who had just arrived on the scene, noticed. She raised one eyebrow in his direction before turning to hear the rest of Tucker's story.

"—and he just waved his gun and..."

"Is John dead?" Dawn asked softly. True, the trio had been obnoxious beyond belief, but Tucker had been the least rude of the three. And, anyway, no one deserved to see their friend die like that.

He nodded. "John," he agreed, "and Bob..."

Dawn frowned. "What happened to Bob?" she asked, confused.

For the first time, Tucker looked her directly in the eyes, his expression haunted. "H-He said that he wouldn't go back to jail. And that meant he had to...had to..."

"What?" That was Veronica. Everyone was hanging on his every word now.

"Get rid of the witnesses," Tucker finished with a gulp. "H-He turned on me and..." He gestured to his arm. "He missed; I didn't."

Stunned silence followed his admission.

"Oh my god..." Lena, for once, seemed truly moved by the situation. She collapsed onto one of the couches, and Xel squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"A-Are you all right?" Dawn found her own voice shaky.

He gave her a look that said he was anything but, before nodding. "Gotta go talk to the officers," he announced, gesturing to the two policemen in the doorway before leaving them to their own devices.

"God," Veronica shuddered, "is this part of the Haunting?"

Dawn nodded. "I think it fits the pattern..." She looked around at the assembled demon hunters. "Wait a minute," she suddenly said with a frown, "where are Spike and Buffy?"

Everyone looked at her blankly, also surprised that the pair hadn't come out to see what all the commotion was about.

Panic in her heart, Dawn dashed off to her room, Rick close on her heels. Her card key fumbled in the lock before Rick's steady hands took it from her and opened the door. Dawn quickly ran through all the rooms, finding no evidence of her best friend. Panic began to turn to hysteria.

"Perhaps Buffy has seen him?" Rick suggested, concerned.

Dawn nodded and dashed back out into the hallway. Three sharp knocks, and the door to Buffy's room opened before her.

"Hi, Dawnie, what's—?" Buffy froze at the expression on her sister's face. "What's happened?"

"Spike!" Dawn gasped out. "Where's Spike?"

"'m here, Bit."

Buffy opened the door further so that Dawn could see Spike sitting on the edge of the bed. Dawn let out a relieved sigh when she saw that the vampire was all right.

"What's goin' on?" Spike demanded.

"We've had two more fatalities," Dawn provided before she frowned. She suddenly noticed that Spike seemed to be wearing his robe and not much else, and she didn't even want to guess whether Buffy had anything on under that T-shirt. It suddenly occurred to her that they would have had to have been up to something pretty intense for them not to have heard the noise in the lobby. She turned hurt, confused eyes in Spike's direction.

He blinked and turned away in response.

"Who?" Buffy demanded, instantly on the case. "More of the guests or—?"

"John and Bob," Dawn provided. "I got most of the story from Tucker."

Buffy nodded. "If you'll all just let me get dressed..." she began.

Spike got up at that and headed for the door. "Prob'ly a good idea for me, too," he agreed. He watched Dawn and Rick leave before him and frowned when the Hispanic man's hand brushed against Dawn's arm ever-so-slightly as they walked together. Dawn had said she was just going to go run some errands that morning, so why – and when – had she picked up Salvatore as well?

Frowning as that strange tickle that the young man sent down his neck reasserted itself, Spike returned to his own room to get dressed and find out what had happened...

Dark enough for you? Hey, don't say that I didn't warn you... As always, I love getting reviews, so send me your feedback. Pretty please? ~_^