Chapter 19 – Let It Burn


Los Angeles, 2000


Spike looked around his hotel room and made sure that he had everything that he needed before leaving the rundown building and getting into his car. He opted not to bother with checking out – he had more important things to do and didn’t want to spend any extra time there when he would rather be back in Sunnydale.

He pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and looked at the address on it, studying it for a long moment before starting the Desoto and following the directions he had been given earlier to the building where he might find more answers.

To Angel’s apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~


Sunnydale, 2000


Buffy sat on her front porch and looked up at the night sky, thinking about the phone call she had received a few hours earlier and trying to figure out what was going on.

It was as she saw Spike’s car pull up in front of her house that she sighed with relief, watching him exit the Desoto before he headed towards her.

“Hello, luv,” he said, sounding surprised. “What are you doing out here?”

“Needed some fresh air,” she answered. “So, how was L.A.?”

He frowned, putting his hands in the pockets of his duster. “How did you know where I was? Or that I was gone in the first place?”

“I got a tip from Cordelia today,” she said. “She and Wesley saw you break into the building Angel runs his business out of and figured I should know. She thought maybe you were feeling like messing with Angel again like you did last year… but then I had the privilege of telling her that Angel can’t be screwed over anymore because he’s a pile of dust in an abandoned home here in town.”

“So it was a bad call, then?” he asked, trying to keep the tone light.

“Oh, it was a pleasure,” she said sarcastically. “I’ve been putting off telling Cordy and the others about Angel, but I guess it had to come at some point, right?” She looked down. “And then there was the fact that I didn’t know you were gone - that made me upset.”

“I wasn’t gone that long,” he replied, sitting beside her. “Not even twenty-four hours.”

“Why did you go?” she asked, frowning. “What did you need to do there that you weren’t willing to tell me about?”

“Angelus always had a journal with him,” he said. “He used to write about his travels and some of the things he did. I wanted to find out if he had ever written about Tessa and what he, Darla, and Dru did to her.”

“Did you find anything?” she asked quietly.

“He practically had a whole bloody novel written about her,” he said in a low tone.

“And I’m guessing you read through a lot of it, didn’t you?” she asked, looking at him.

“Nothing else to do during the day,” he muttered, getting his cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one. “I passed the time by reading through the journals I grabbed.”

“Why would you put yourself through that?” she asked. “I mean, wouldn’t it be better to know the general stuff rather than all of the specifics?”

“I wanted to know it all,” he said. “Call it morbid curiosity, but I felt the need to know everything. I wanted to know what Dru died for, what Dawn died for.”

“Dru deserved it,” Buffy replied. “I’m sure you’d agree with that.”

“She… wasn’t as bad as Darla and Angelus,” he said. “But in a way, yes, I agree that she had it coming.”

“I’m sorry for your losses,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

“Well, your family, so to speak, is gone,” she answered. “You lost Darla, Angel, Dru, and Tessa.”

“Tessa is the only one I wish was still around,” he replied. “There are more questions that aren’t answered.”

“And they might never be,” she said, standing up. “I should go inside – Mom and I’ve decided to implement set times during the day when we spend time together. Now that it’s just us, we’re trying to stick together and look out for one another whenever we can. Losing someone makes people become closer, doesn’t it?”

“Typically it does,” he answered. “You become more thankful for what you have and realize that you could lose another person before it’s rightfully their time.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she said, nodding. “Goodnight, Spike.”

“Goodnight, Buffy,” he replied, watching her walk to the door.

As she opened it, she looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m glad you came back.”

“Did you really think I’d be gone for good?” he asked, smirking.

“You never know with you,” she said. “Then again, when haven’t you come back to Sunnydale?”

“It’s what I do,” he replied, managing a grin when she laughed before going into her house.

He got up and walked to his car, getting in and looking at the stack of Angelus’ journals that were sitting on his passenger seat.

“I’ve got a lot more work ahead of me,” he said to himself, scowling at the aged books before pulling away from the curb.

~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days later, Buffy headed to Spike’s crypt and saw him walking out the door, holding a tall stack of books. She raised an eyebrow as she watched him stop a few feet away before dropping the books and getting his lighter out of his pocket.

“Starting a fire?” she asked, smiling when he turned around and looked at her.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, frowning.

“I was kidding,” she said, turning her attention to the journals that lay at his feet. “Are these Angelus’?”

“How’d you guess?” He scanned the area, looking for any branches and twigs that he could use.

“Why else would you burn books?” she asked. “You’ve told me that you like to read.”

“Only when it’s about topics that don’t include me in any way,” he said sternly. “I was so stupid – I should’ve known what they were doing to her. How could I have been so naïve, so ignorant?”

“You didn’t know what they were capable of,” she replied. “You were new to the game when a lot of it happened.”

“How could I not know, though?” he asked, angry. “I’ve done things just as horrible in my time.”

“Probably not to the magnitude that they did,” she said.

“Don’t underestimate me,” he said warningly. “Angelus might’ve been the worst vampire in history, but don’t forget who’s second.”

“I’ve never forgotten,” she murmured before motioning to the ground. “Want some help?”

He nodded, and they split up, each collecting whatever they could find before meeting up near the journals. Spike set up the tree branches they had gathered and lit them before standing back and watching as the wood began to burn.

“In normal circumstances, this could be considered romantic,” Buffy said, looking at him.

“I’m sorry it isn’t,” he replied, picking up a book off of the grass and throwing it onto the fire, watching as it was engulfed by the flames. Both Buffy and Spike began to toss Angelus’ journals onto the fire, and as they finished, Buffy took Spike’s hand in hers, neither saying a word as they remained focused on the sight in front of them.