She still didn't like the idea of him going out alone, but the logical part of her mind told her he was right. He needed to convince anyone he spoke to tonight that he was looking for the killer of a Slayer for evil reasons, not because he wanted to help the daughter she'd left behind.
Buffy tried the television, knowing if she kept it at a low enough volume it wouldn't wake Spike, but when she couldn't get it to turn on, she remembered him telling her when they'd first gotten the room that the only one they had available was one with a broken television. She decided then that the next time they were out, she was buying something to read. Even if it was some trashy gossip magazine or romance novel, it would be better than sitting around doing nothing.
She sat beside Spike in the bed, her knees pulled up to her chin, and her thoughts began to wander back to their conversation the night before. She didn't doubt Spike's truthfulness in what he'd told her, but it didn't make the picture clear enough for her. The big thing was the space of missing time between when Spike had left with Drusilla and when her mother's body had been found. At some time in between those points, she'd had a run in with a vampire other than Spike or Drusilla that had killed her. Who had it been?
Buffy was only four when it happened, but she couldn't remember her mother facing off against any other vampires of Spike's caliber at the time. And if there had been another major player in town, wouldn't Spike mention it? Surely he would've known if he'd had another vampire competing with him to be the killer of the longest-lived Slayer in history. And if that were the case, then he'd be saying something about it now, focusing their search on that vampire instead of starting with what was basically no leads at all.
Unless he didn't really want to help her or he was trying to protect the other vampire, but Buffy knew that was unlikely. A few weeks ago, she might have thought differently, but not now. For someone as happy to flash his "I'm evil, ask me how" badge as he was, Spike was surprisingly honest. Furthermore, he seemed nothing but genuine in his desire to help her avenge her mother. Buffy wasn't sure if it was something he was doing out of love or because he wanted to try to get her to like him more, but either way, she was grateful.
So that meant that so far their list of suspects was very short and very unhelpful. It consisted of an apocalypse-wanting demon—but only if he was capable of putting himself together from fleshy chunks—and a currently nameless, faceless vampire. Which meant it could conceivably be just about any vampire who had been in or near L.A. at that time.
Okay, so maybe the suspect list wasn't so much short as ridiculously long…
Her one hope was that Spike was right when he said that if it was a vampire that killed her mother, that vampire would be still bragging. If they could just find at least someone who had heard of a vampire that had killed a Slayer in Los Angeles in 1985, then they'd have a lead, which was better than where they were now.
She had the sudden urge to start writing things down in a notebook, like she'd seen detectives do in movies. Keep a list of the facts they knew, the clues they had. She didn't have a notebook, but there was a pad of paper with the motel's name on it beside the table, and she grabbed that and the pen on top of it. In bubbly, teenaged girl letters, she titled the top of the page "What I Know" and drew a line under it.
Buffy chewed the end of the pen as she thought about what to write first. She decided to start with what she'd gathered first and wrote next to a bullet point, "Left with Spike on night in question." She nodded. That sounded official. And it looked nice and orderly, too.
Then under it, she wrote, "Found with vampire bites on neck."
Under that came, "Killer NOT Spike." She underlined it. Twice. Because, after all, narrowing down you list of suspects by figuring out who it wasn't was very important.
Next, "Fought demon…" Buffy paused, frowning as she tried to remember what name Spike had said the night before. Finally, she settled on "Fought demon A." She'd ask him the name again later. Then she added, "Killed A. Won battle."
After that, she was at a loss to fill in the blanks, so she flipped over to the next page and titled it, "What I Don't Know." She made the first bullet point there and stopped. What didn't she know? She didn't know where her mother went after she stopped the world from ending that night. She didn't know who she'd met then. She didn't know who killed her. She didn't know why her mother never came home.
So what didn't she know? Buffy wrote the answer in big letters across the page, then tossed the pad and pen from the bed. This wasn't going to help. She was at a complete loss as to who had murdered her mother, and unless Spike managed a miracle, she didn't think she was ever going to know.
Her nerves were jumping, and she needed to calm them. Hoping the hot water would do her some good, she slipped out of the bed and went into the bathroom to shower.
As soon as the bed began to cool without her in it, Spike woke. He rolled over groggily and noticed the pad of paper Buffy had thrown to the ground. Wondering what she had written on it, he leaned off the bed and picked it up, scanning the first page.
The corner of his mouth twitched up at her emphatic declaration that he was not her mother's killer. He had been fairly certain that she had accepted it wasn't him, but he'd still worried that she might have lingering doubts in her mind about his innocence in this matter at least. Seeing that, however, put those fears of his to rest.
He flipped over to the next page then, and his smile fell again when he saw what Buffy had listed as what she didn't know.
Everything.
He'd sensed hints of her desperation earlier through the claim, but now it was clearly spelled out for him. She didn't feel like she knew anything that would really help her find her mother's killer. She was a poor, little lost lamb, his girl.
Spike put the pad of paper back on the floor and went into the bathroom, knowing Buffy was in there. He wasn't surprised to find her sitting on the edge of the sink, her head in her hands as she cried. She looked up when he walked in and wiped at her eyes. "I was going to take a shower, but I haven't yet."
Spike gave a small nod. "Are you all right?" Pointless question, he knew since clearly, she wasn't all right, but he didn't know what to do other than ask it.
"I guess." Buffy looked up at the ceiling. "God, you must be so sick of seeing me cry."
"Only in the sense that I wish you weren't sad," Spike replied. "But that's only because I don't want you hurting, not because you crying bothers me." He went to the sink and wrapped his arms around her. "We will find out who did it, Buffy. We will."
Buffy returned his embrace. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her own reflection in the mirror and the empty space where he should be, but it didn't bother her anymore. "I guess it's not like we don't have plenty of time to look," she said with an almost-nervous laugh.
"Won't take us an eternity, pet." Spike kissed the top of her head. "We'll find him soon."
Buffy lifted her head and searched Spike's eyes for a moment before asking him the question that had been plaguing her for days. "Then what, Spike?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if we do find my mom's killer, and I get my revenge—then what? Are we just going to keep bouncing from motel to motel, because that's already gotten old after a few weeks. I really don't think I could handle it for the next century or two."
Spike frowned. "I haven't thought about it," he answered honestly.
"I'm not a vampire. I can't live like one," Buffy said.
"I know." Spike stroked her cheek, his hand lingering against her warm skin. "What do you want to do, sweetheart? Do you want to settle down somewhere?"
Buffy thought for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth as she did. "I don't know," she said after the pause. "I mean, could we even settle down? Can you picture us in the 'burbs? You'd burst into flames if you tried to mow the lawn on a Sunday afternoon, and I so can't picture myself driving a minivan."
Spike chuckled. "It doesn't have to be the 'burbs, pet. You're not June, and I'm not Ward, and with me being a vampire, we can't have perfect little children. If we ever did, it would be because of some strange mystical thing and then they'd probably be some freakish hellspawn, and… No, wait, then they would be the Cleaver children."
"You're so weird," Buffy said with a giggle.
"At least I made you smile." Spike kissed her forehead, then spoke again. "We could find somewhere that suits us both, Buffy. Look around a bit, try some places on for size and see how they fit us."
"And what if we can't find that place, Spike?"
He smiled crookedly at her. "Then we'll make it ourselves." Spike smoothed down her golden hair with his hands, then moved to cup her cheeks. "Don't worry about it all now, Buffy. We've got time, and we'll work it all out."
"How can you be sure?"
His smile faltered a little, growing sad. "Because I love you."
He looked at her so intently as he said it that Buffy knew she couldn't ignore him this time. He had her face locked in place, her eyes caught by his. "Spike, I…"
"I'm not asking you to say it back, pet. I know you can't. But can you do one thing for me? Can you tell me that you know I love you? Please, just give me that much, Buffy…"
She swallowed hard. He was asking so much from her, pleading with her with his eyes as well as his words to give him something that terrified her to give. Long moments passed between them and finally, he dropped his hands and turned away.
"It's all right," he said, though the sadness in his voice told her otherwise. "I didn't really expect you to."
He tried to shield his hurt, but Buffy felt it all the same, and it cut her. Suddenly, it didn't matter so much anymore. He wasn't asking her for her heart—he was just asking her to accept his. Couldn't she do that?
"I know, Spike," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I do know."
He turned back to her, surprise and awe on his face. "Thank you."
The emotions on his face were too raw, too much for Buffy to handle, so she kissed him until she made them shift into something else.
Buffy sat on the edge of the bed as she watched Spike get ready to leave. "I still don't like this."
"Yeah, and I'm still doing it."
"If you find out who it is, no killing them without me," Buffy said. She wagged her finger. "I mean it, Spike."
He came over to her and kissed the tip of her nose. "You're so cute when you're homicidal."
She pushed him away with the little bit of disgust she could muster. "I'm not homicidal. I'm…vampicidal. And you'd do well to remember that, mister vampire guy."
"Yeah, I'm shakin' in my Docs." He knelt down in front of her. "If I find him tonight, I won't kill him until you've gotten to say your piece, Buffy. I can promise you that much."
Buffy nodded. That was good enough for now. "All right."
Spike kissed her then stood. He walked over to the door and stopped, then turned around to face her again. "Keep yourself open to the Claim. If you feel that there's trouble for me, run. Get out of town, as far as you can, just keep moving. I'll find you as soon as I can."
Her eyes widened. She hadn't really thought about something happening to him. Suddenly, she was on her feet and in his arms. "Be careful. Please. I need you to come home."
Her reaction almost brought tears to his eyes, but he didn't let them show. He was the Big Bad tonight, and getting misty because his mate was showing signs of caring for him wouldn't do for that. "I'll be home before daylight, pet."
"I'll be here, waiting."
Spike kissed her one more time. "I know."
Thank you very much to everyone who have been reviewing. I appreciate it very much, and I'm happy to see that you're getting into the story!