Ten
Life, it seems, will fade away
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters, no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free
Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this can't be real
Cannot stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn I was me, but now he's gone
No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye
This time, when he ventured out, Will aimed for the nearest bookstore, looking for ways for both of them to pass the time. He’d left the note propped up on the bathroom sink, figuring that would be the first place she’d visit upon waking.
There was an express bus to midtown waiting at the corner when he stepped out of the building. Acting on instinct, Will got on board. He needed to make some phone calls and though he doubted anyone except Nikki knew exactly where they were, going to midtown Manhattan would keep the hounds at bay just a little longer. From any location in midtown, there were easily twenty to thirty avenues of escape – from the commuter train hubs to subway lines not to mention the ridiculous number of bus lines available. Anyone able to trace the calls would be hard pressed to follow him once he disconnected.
Besides, who would remember another average guy on the street?
Scarcely forty-five minutes later, he cut short the last of three phone calls. No one had any better answers for him, though Gunn had basically told him to stay hidden since – and he had trouble wrapping his brain around this – there was chatter about the witness and the Post was threatening to leak her information.
Who the hell? Too many people had seen her, from the hotel concierge to the cops and EMTs and anyone of them was capable of dropping information.
Will ran a hand over his face. He debated about calling Nikki again, but she was already more involved than he wanted her to be. This wasn’t her case; wasn’t her problem.
The time flashed on the huge ticker circling around the building to his right and he suddenly realized he’d been gone too long. Buffy was probably awake so he needed to make his purchases and head back uptown.
On foot, Will headed in that direction, stopping at various shops on the way, including Barnes & Noble. The uptown bus stopped at Grand Central and it would take him right up to Fort Tryon. With luck he’d be back there within an hour.
The first time Buffy woke up, she blearily glanced at the alarm clock, groaned, then rolled over to cocoon herself within the blankets. She was cold and alone, but that didn’t bother her. Will would be back soon and she felt safe here, safer than she’d felt in either of the other two places he’d brought her.
When she woke up the second time, it was full dark out, and there wasn’t a light on at all in the apartment. The only light came from the glowing green numbers on the clock, which flashed the incredible time of six thirty. No way did I sleep that long. But the insistent throb of her bladder told her otherwise and Buffy could only ignore it for so long.
Not only was the apartment dark, it was cold as well, and Buffy shivered on her way into the bathroom. There was a note on the sink and she held it up while she peed, reading it over twice before her tired brain made sense of the words. Left at three, should be back soon.
Three? Soon? He was gone almost four hours, just what did he think was ‘soon’? Two hours was more than enough time – at least she thought so.
Emerging from the bathroom, Buffy dropped the note on the counter, then flipped on the kitchen light. At least with the lights on, she didn’t feel as scared. She could clearly see the apartment door from the kitchen, and the bedroom was just down the hallway, beyond the bathroom. Twenty steps took her into the living room and Buffy stood at the big windows, looking out at the park. Just through the trees she could make out the lights of the George Washington Bridge – brighter because of the darkness shrouding the park. Where are you?
She wrapped her arms around her waist, holding onto her fears, keeping them trapped inside. He has to come back. He won’t leave me here alone. If . . . no, not thinking about if. There is no if. He’s going to come back. He won’t let anyone stop him from coming back.
Muted sounds drifted in from the street below and the adjoining apartments. Buffy tried to let the sounds calm her, but the fear began to overwhelm her. Instead of standing there staring, she moved away from the big windows, back toward the bedroom. At least in there she could sit or lay down and stare out the bare windows.
It didn’t help. Mere minutes later, she was back in the living room, blankets wrapped around her, sweeping over the wood floor. She felt as small as she must look, a little girl swathed in blankets looking for her parents to come cuddle and keep away the monsters of her dreams.
Only there were no one, and the monsters that inhabited her nightmares were real. Real flesh and blood, out for hers.
Buffy crouched on the floor next to the balcony windows, her eyes trained on the bridge lights, but not really seeing them. Please, Spike, please come back. . .
He cursed himself for being twenty times a fool. Traffic at this time of day was brutal, everyone on their way home from their nine-to-fives, and no one cutting anyone else a break. The bus, which should have been closer to an express, was stuck somewhere around Eighty-sixth street, since every other route uptown was blocked because of some accident. Spike banged his head on the window, wondering whether he should take the chance and get a cab.
Except he knew that would be stupid. He was already on the bus – it wouldn’t be much longer. He knew it. Traffic ahead was finally moving, and while it seemed like hours, in reality it was barely a half hour they’d been stuck here. Still, he knew he’d been gone too long. His watch didn’t lie. He’d left the apartment before three and now it was pushing on seven. No doubt, Buffy was going to be upset when he got back, upset and worried. There wasn’t much he could do about it. Even if he did have his cell, the apartment was devoid of telephones.
Will cursed himself again for being so foolish. Taking the chance to go downtown had been dumb. He just as easily could’ve made the same phone calls from anywhere in Manhattan – after all, the escape routes were just as accessible uptown – and been back in the apartment before she woke up. Because she had to be awake. There was no way she could’ve slept this long. He didn’t get that lucky.
Traffic finally started to clear and the bus made it to the end of the park without catching any other lights. The apprehension riding his gut started to ease. Buffy’s okay. She’ll be fine until I get back.
Snow flurries drifted down slowly, disappearing into the darkness as they meandered past the huge picture window. Buffy stared out into the distance, not realizing the moisture on her cheeks mimicked the scene outside.
Fear gripped her, insidious, chilly tendrils curling up and wrapping around her belly, creeping upwards toward her heart. Will was the only person on earth who cared if she was safe – he was the only person who even knew where she was. If he left her – or worse, if something happened to him because of her – Buffy swallowed hard, sniffling back the tears she’d just noticed.
What if he doesn’t come back?
The cold seeped through the blankets and into her bones.
Buffy leaned her head on the window, letting her breath fog the glass. The bridge lights almost disappeared and she brought up her hand to wipe away the condensation. Fresh tears slipped from her eyes, though she didn’t bother to wipe them away.
So lost in her misery, Buffy never heard the door open behind her.
Will got off the bus, still cursing his own stupidity. He hadn’t banked on the bus being full of commuters heading uptown and the bus making nearly every stop north of the park.
It was now well after seven and he couldn’t count on Buffy’s exhaustion keeping her asleep this long. She was probably awake and scared witless. No way had he expected to be gone for over four hours.
He struggled into the building, juggling all the bags while he headed toward the elevator. The battle was lost the instant he stepped in the elevator; the packages all tumbled from his arms.
Throwing his head back in frustration, Will barely suppressed an accompanying growl. His temper was beyond fractured, nerves strung taut and strained. Realizing that most of the blame was his own did little to ease the tension. He never should have left her alone and unprotected like that.
Reluctantly, he picked up the bags, trying to control temper. The apartment was thankfully only steps away from the elevator and Will managed to get the door open without losing his grip on the slick plastic again.
The apartment was still, only the muted strains of the radio breaking the silence. Will dropped the bags inside the door, pocketing the keys. He didn’t call out, hoping she might still be sleeping. Instead, he headed down the hallway toward the bedroom. A slight noise in the living room caught his attention and Will changed direction, moving toward the noise.
He stopped short in the doorway, his eyes riveted on the figure huddled in front of the window. Her hand was on the glass, and he could make out the drawn lines of exhaustion on her features. She looks so lost, so alone.
His heart broke. Any anger and frustration he’d been feeling melted away, dissipating into the chilly air of the room.
“Kitten?” Will kept his voice low and soft, hoping not to scare her too much.
She jumped anyway, her head swinging round to see him standing behind her.
“Oh!” Buffy swiped at the tears, streaking her face with dirt from the window, making the exhaustion stand out. “When did you get back?”
“Just now.” He moved closer, crouching down to her level. “I’m so sorry, kitten. Didn’t mean to be gone so long.”
She shrugged, trying to brush off her fear and concern. “No biggie. I’m okay.”
Will chuckled a bit, then shook his head. “Don’t look so okay.” He leaned closer, gathering her into his arms. “Shh, kitten, don’t cry.”
It wasn’t until he’d touched her that Buffy realized she was openly weeping. Her fists grabbed his shirt and jacket, holding on tight. “I was scared. I – .”
Her sniffles got louder and Will held her against his chest, rocking her back and forth. “My fault, sweetheart, ‘s all my fault.”
She burrowed closer to him, nuzzling against his chest. “Nope. Not all your fault. I’m just a big scaredy-cat.”
He laughed outright then, cupping the side of her head with his hand. “Don’t think there’s much you’re afraid of, Buffy. You don’t back down from anyone.”
“I run away.” She pulled back to look at him. “I ran away from home, I ran away from . . . I just run.”
“Think of it as strategically retreatin’ to regroup.” He stood up, holding out his hand to help her to her feet. “Not really runnin’ if you haven’t got the ammo to fight with.”
She struggled to get up, hampered by the blankets swathed around her form. Tangled all around her, they hindered her easy movement and Will, worried she’d fall over and hurt herself, lifted her up into his arms. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I only woke up a little while ago, around six.”
Will carried her into the kitchen, putting her down easily on one of the stools. “Let’s see what we’ve got then.” He rummaged though the cabinets and refrigerator, quickly going through the meager larder. He listed the contents for her. “Don’t have much. Pancakes and bacon. Eggs.”
At her disinterested grimace, Will asked, “Could pop round to the nearest chipper or some such.”
“Chipper? What’s a chipper?” Her scrunched up nose was adorable, and he flicked it just because.
“Right. Keep forgettin’ you yanks don’t speak proper English.” He scratched at his scarred eyebrow. “A take-away place. In England we get fish an’ chips there, or sometimes burgers. Fast food, I suppose.”
Buffy shook her head. “Do we have soup? I’m not really all that hungry.”
“Don’t have any soup. There’s a Chinese place down the block. Want that?”
She thought about it for a half a second or so, then nodded vigorously. “Yup. That’d be good.” Until she realized he’d have to leave again, in order to get the food. “Do you have to go get it?”
“Should go. Don’t really want anyone knowing you’re here. Would be safer if I did.” He looked away from her, knowing how upset she’d be. “‘Sides, don’t have a phone here to call it in.”
“Oh. Right.” Buffy could feel the disappointment flooding her, and she knew the tears were threatening again, but she fought them back. He’d told her she was strong and brave and so she was going to act like it, and not be a frightened little girl anymore. “I want soup. And fried rice. And maybe some chicken?”
“Right then. I’ll just be right back.” He leaned down, kissed her forehead and was gone in a moment.
He wasn’t gone nearly as long. Only little over a half hour and he was back, brown paper bags smelling deliciously of wonton soup and chicken and other things she’d missed. Her belly growled, welcoming him home and Buffy blushed, trying to hide from his too-knowing eyes. She’d taken the time to wash her face, and though most of the evidence was gone, Will could still see the effects of her tears. Her eyes, normally a clear, bright green, were murky and dark, red-rimmed from all the weeping she’d done. Her bravery tugged at his heart. Despite her injuries and fear, she trusted him to keep her safe. Watching her pick at the egg rolls, Will hoped he didn’t disappoint.
“Brought some things back.”
Buffy didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Like what?”
“Cards. Couple of books, a few magazines. Got Monopoly.” Her eyes lit up briefly, rewarding his efforts to cheer her up.
“And here I thought you were gonna keep us here without any entertainment.”
Will pressed a hand over his heart. “Ouch. You wound me, princess.”
Getting into the spirit, Buffy quipped back, “Guess you must really be an ogre, since you’re keeping me locked up in a tower.”
“Somehow I knew I’d never get to be Prince Charming.” Will hung his head in mock chagrin.
“Hhmm.” Buffy pretended to consider him, waiting until he raised his eyes to look at her. “Well, you’ve got way more in common with him than the evil stepmother.” She laughed softly. “And you’re way cuter than Shrek.”
“Thanks.” Will huffed. “I think.”
Will was cleaning up after they finished while Buffy showered. He was humming along with the radio, occasionally breaking into song. For the first time since this whole fiasco began, he was content, almost worry-free.
Which was why, seconds later, the change was so shattering.
“Police are seeking witnesses to a shooting in Queens. A retired detective was shot and killed, execution style inside her home earlier this afternoon.”
Will froze, unable to breathe.
No. No. Couldn’t. . .
Can’t be.
Just don’t say –
“Sources inside the Department report that the detective, who retired in 2004, left behind three children. No word as of yet on a suspect or motive. Anyone with information – “
Will reached for the radio, flipping it to an all news station.
“Retired detective Nicholette Woods was a twenty-two year veteran of the NYPD. A much decorated officer, she spent most of her career undercover, working both Vice and Narcotics Squads.”
His brain blanked.
Nikki. . .
Will didn’t hear anything until he felt Buffy’s hand on his back. “Will? What’s wrong?”
He had no words. He couldn’t think of anything to tell her. Will stared at the wall, unaware his hands were shaking, squeezing rhythmically, destroying the paper carton in his grip.
“Will?” The voice sounded so far away. “Spike?”
Spike turned blind eyes toward the sound. A hand reached out – “Spike?”
“They killed her.” He was barely able to choke out the words.
“What?” Her confusion didn’t register. “Killed who? Spike, you’re scaring me.”
“Nikki. She’s dead.”
Buffy withdrew her hand. “Oh, no. No.” She backed away, repeating the same thing, over and over. “No. No. . . Will?”
The fear in her voice snapped him back and Will grabbed her before she collapsed. “Shhh. ‘Ve got you.”
Somehow he managed to steady her, calming himself in the process. He couldn’t think. Logic told him there could be any number of reasons why Nikki had been murdered. Any number. His gut instincts were telling him a different tale.
Nikki had been murdered because he’d contacted her.
Because of Buffy.
He wanted to hate her.
Did, for more than a few moments.
Until he realized none of this was her fault. He’d chosen to involve himself, to involve Nikki – not Buffy.
He’d exposed Nikki.
He alone bore the responsibility.
So instead of hating Buffy, Will hated himself.
Sorry about the short lag in updating this story, but RL issues got in the way, and somethings just a tad bit out of control. Everything is starting to settle down, and in honor of my parents' 48th anniversary this week, I figured I'd celebrate. Next week, I'll switch off and post a chapter of Origins, so keep an eye out for that. So muy mucho thanks to all of you are keeping up with this story! Enjoy!