She’d tried calling Spike to tell him she’d be getting home late, but there’d been no answer at his apartment. She shrugged it off, reminding herself that he was very much an adult and didn’t have to ask her permission before he went out. Instead, she put her focus completely on the reports, wanting to get them done as soon as possible so she could get back home to her man.
It was nearing nine o’clock when her cell phone rang, and Buffy jerked up from the stack of papers she’d been pouring over, the sound seeming too loud in the otherwise silent office. It took her a moment to place what it was, but when she did, she fished the phone out of her purse and flipped it open, fully expecting to hear Spike’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Finn? This is the Sunnydale Police Department.”
Buffy felt a lump rise in her throat, her heart beating faster as her mind raced to figure out why the police would be calling her. “This is…this is Mrs. Finn.”
“Ma’am, we’d like you to come down to the station immediately.”
“Is…is there something wrong?” Buffy still couldn’t come up with a reason why the cops would be calling her, especially now that they were calling her Mrs. Finn. Had Riley done something? “Does this have to do with my husband?” she asked.
“I think it would be best if we had this conversation in person, ma’am,” the officer replied. “If you need it, we could send someone to pick you up.”
“No, I can drive myself. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Buffy replied. She still had no idea why she’d gotten this phone call, but she could tell by the sound of the man’s voice it was indeed very important.
“All right. Someone will be waiting for you at the front desk.”
The line went dead, and Buffy took a deep breath before closing her cell phone and putting it back in her purse. She grabbed her things and ran out of the office without preamble, unable to shake the sense of dread that accompanied her downstairs to her car.
Buffy hurried into the police station, stopping only when she reached the front desk. A tall man in a suit stood beside it, and immediately, he stepped towards her. “Are you Mrs. Finn?”
“Yes, I’m…” She stopped. “I’m Buffy. What’s going on?”
“I’m Detective Gonzales. I’m going to need you to come with me, ma’am,” the man said.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Buffy insisted.
Detective Gonzales seemed to soften slightly. “I’m afraid we found a body tonight. We believe it’s your husband. We need you to identify him.”
“A body?” Buffy asked, the detective’s statement seeming too unreal to be true. “As…as in a dead body?”
Detective Gonzales nodded grimly. “Yes.”
“I…” Buffy didn’t know what to say, the shock to heavy for her to shake. But maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe she’d go and look at the body, and it would be a stranger. “Okay.”
“I’ll need you to accompany me to the morgue.”
Buffy simply nodded as she followed the detective out to an unmarked police vehicle. The trip the morgue was short, but it seemed to stretch for her, as her mind contemplated what she’d find there – what she wanted to find there.
It wasn’t until she was standing over a cold, metal table, looking down at Riley’s body that it became real to her. The look on her face and the choked sob that emanated from her was all it took to tell Detective Gonzales the dead man was indeed Riley Finn. Buffy backed away from the table, shaking her head slowly. While she may have held a lot of anger and resentment towards Riley after the collapse of their marriage, she’d never wished him dead. There had been a time once when he’d made her happy…
Detective Gonzales nodded towards the medical examiner who slowly pulled the sheet back up over Riley’s face. The action brought Buffy’s attention back to the body again, and this time, her eyes flickered over his neck.
She only saw it for a moment before the sheet was back over him, but there was no mistaking what she’d seen. Buffy stumbled backwards, unable to breath, certain her heart was coming to a stop in her chest. Detective Gonzales caught her a moment before she hit the floor, and she sagged against him, tears she couldn’t stem falling down her cheeks. The detective held her up, his expression stoic as he let her cry.
“Would you like to sit down?” the medical examiner asked, making Buffy turn towards him suddenly, as if she’d forgotten he was there. As if maybe she’d forgotten where she was… “There’s a lounge… You could sit on the couch. Maybe have some coffee?”
“I…” Buffy tried to speak but couldn’t make sense of the thoughts in her head.
Detective Gonzales wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her towards the door, making her decision for her when he knew she wasn’t going to be able to do it on her own. “Come with me, Mrs. Finn. The lounge is in here.”
Buffy let him lead her to sit down, staring straight ahead until she felt him wrap her hands around a warm paper Styrofoam cup full of coffee. She gave him a small smile before she turned her attention to the coffee, staring at the black liquid. “Do…do you know what happened to him?” Buffy asked, her voice sounding weak, tired.
“Well, the wounds almost look like a wild animal, but there’s been a rash of similar killings in the neighborhood recently,” Detective Gonzales replied, taking a seat in a chair across from Buffy. “Only they’ve all been young women so we’re still looking into a few leads.” His eyes were trained on Buffy as he spoke, as if watching for her reaction.
It came in the form of her coffee cup falling from her hands and to the ground. The hot liquid splashed up, hitting Detective Gonzales in the leg. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Buffy said, jumping up and looking around wildly for towels, wanting to help him clean it up – wanting to do anything to get her mind off what she’d just heard.
“It’s fine,” Detective Gonzales insisted, finding the towels and cleaning up the mess himself. “You’ve had a long night.” He threw the coffee-stained paper towels and empty cup into the garbage can before approaching Buffy again. He retrieved his card from his pocket and handed it to her. “I’m going to take you back to your car now. But if you start thinking of anyone who would’ve done this to your husband, I want you to give me a call, all right?”
Buffy nodded numbly as she took the card, running her fingers over the slight relief of the print. What could she say? Hey, I think my husband might have been killed by the vampire I’m sleeping with?
She followed Detective Gonzales out in silence.
Buffy sat in her car, her head buried in her hands as she sobbed, her body shaking. She’d managed to get a mile away from the police station before she’d had to stop and pull over, unable to go any further.
She didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to run to Spike and beg him to tell her it wasn’t true, that she had jumped to a crazy conclusion, but she knew that wouldn’t be the case. The mark on Riley’s neck had been too distinctive, and Buffy knew the odds of Riley somehow getting killed by another vampire were very, very slim.
But that wasn’t what had shaken her up the most. There could be an explanation for what had happened with Riley, even if Spike had killed him. She knew how her husband could be, and she knew how things could’ve escalated. It didn’t mean she was okay with it, but maybe…maybe if she talked to Spike, she could understand.
It was what Detective Gonzales had told her about finding women with similar wounds. Dead women. She could no longer ignore what Spike did when he fed. She’d known – part of her had always known – but it had been easy to pretend when it hadn’t been right in front of her face.
Buffy couldn’t pretend anymore. Her lover was a killer.
And what was more, he’d brought her home the first night to kill her.
The full weight of that had crashed down onto her shoulders, driving her to pull over to the side of the road, her tears coming out in choked sobs. The dreamlike state she’d drifted into when she met Spike was gone now, replaced by the harsh reality she’d tried so hard to fight against.
This wasn’t some fairytale anymore. Vampires were real, and she finally understood the full ramifications of that. And now that she did, her entire worldview was turned upside down, nothing seeming to fit in the places where it used to anymore. Suddenly, she knew what lurked in the shadows. She’d touched it.
Where could she go from here? Could she turn back around, pretend she’d never met Spike, never touched a world so different from her own? He’d taken her over completely, shown her things she’d never imagined before, made her feel things she hadn’t thought were possible. Would she ever be satisfied again? If she turned away from Spike, would it be like suddenly living in a world without color?
But on the other hand, how could she stay? How could she sleep next to Spike knowing he was a killer? She understood now in a way she hadn’t before what he really was. He’d told her before that her blood wasn’t enough for him and now she knew why. He needed to fully drain people to get enough. It was the food chain for him, and he was a different link than humans. She understood that, at least on a purely scientific level.
However, it was one thing to understand something. It was another thing entirely to be comfortable with it.
She knew herself well enough to know that no matter what she may feel for Spike, she wouldn’t be able to simply wave him off while he went to kill people. Even if it was what he had to do, she didn’t have it in her to be that Darwinian about the whole situation. People may be food to Spike, but to her, they were still people.
She couldn’t go back to what she had been – not now that she knew what she’d be missing. Yet she couldn’t stay where she was either – not now that she understood the truth.
So where did that leave her?
She could only go forward. But where?
Buffy pulled herself upright and gripped the steering wheel. She knew what she had to do, though she also realized the act smacked of desperation.
However, as she turned back onto the road, her tires screeching against the pavement, she didn’t care.
Buffy drove to Spike’s, parking her car outside his house before she ran into the building, refusing to take the time to think things through. Her old life felt gone now anyway, and she realized she really had nothing else to live for. All she had anymore was Spike, and unless she took the chance – took the leap – she wouldn’t have that anymore either.
All she could do was go forward…
She found him in the bedroom, sitting on the bed. The window was open, filling the room with moonlight, but Spike was in the shadows, his form barely visible. Buffy didn’t realize she’d said his name until he looked up, though his features were still hidden from her in the darkness.
“You…you know, don’t you?” he asked, his voice soft, breaking.
“Yes, I do.”
Spike leaned forward, the moonlight hitting him, and for the first time, Buffy saw the burns covering his body. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I…I tried not to, but he attacked me, and the sun… I’m so sorry…”
“Shh…” Buffy whispered as she approached the bed, feeling a sense of calm wash over her as she resigned herself to what she had to do. “It’s okay, Spike. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”
“Buffy?” Spike asked softly as she straddled his lap, taking his face in her hands and kissing the burns, making him sigh softly against her. “I’m so sorry,” he said again as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his hands against her back.
“I told you it’ll be okay,” Buffy replied as she brushed a kiss against his temple.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, seeing the questions in them. Without hesitation, she answered them.
“I want you to turn me.”
Reviews?