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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground	By : cousinjean Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 2581 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground

by cousinjean

Chapter One - A Lonely Place of Dying

RATING: R
PREVIOUSLY: There was an apocalypse. No, not that one, the other one. From Fray #3. All the extra Slayers died, as did Giles and Andrew. All the world's magic and demons got sucked into hell and trapped there, but not before snagging Buffy right out of a human Spike's arms and taking her with them. Now Spike aims to get her back.

A/N: This chapter's title is ripped right off from the Batman comics.

~*~
"I thought I'd find you up here."
"Hey, Wes." Angel snapped his laptop shut. Not like he was working, anyway. He'd been too distracted mulling over the putting green on Wolfram & Hart's rooftop terrace, trying to decide if he should rip it up. He really should try golf first, he supposed. He might like it. Then again, maybe he could install a pool�. He grinned up at Wesley. "You know me, always working on my tan."
Wesley smiled as he took a seat across from Angel. "And it's coming along nicely. Good to see at least one of our former vampires taking full advantage of the 'former' part."
"Yeah. Who knew Spike'd turn out to be the broody one, huh?"
"It's not like he broods without reason."
Frowning, Angel looked out over the city. "Never said he didn't. So�" He turned back to Wes. "What's up with him? I know you didn't come all the way up here to make small talk about Spike because he's my favorite person."
Wes took a deep breath before cutting to the chase: "He didn't show up today."
Angel sighed. "Again?"
Wes nodded. "HR called. He's used up all of his personal days, including vacation and sick days. And his bereavement leave. They tried calling him, as did I. He's not answering."
"Damn it." Angel stood up. "I better go check on him."
"I told HR that he's working at home today."
"Is he?"
"Possibly. I gave him an assignment yesterday."
"To do what?"
"To record the battle. The days leading up to it. And the aftermath."
Angel sat back down. "You think that was such a good idea?"
"He is the most qualified. And I'd hoped it might provide a distraction."
"You wanted to distract him from the death of his fiancée by asking him to write about it in detail?"
Wesley sighed. "Provide catharsis, then. Put it all in perspective. I only want to help him, Angel." He paused and picked at a stray thread on the hem of his shirt. "I know what it's like to have a lover trapped in Hell."
"I know what it's like to be a lover trapped in Hell. That count?"
Wesley folded his hands across his stomach and looked down at them.
Angel stood back up. "You know, I loved her too. You don't see me shutting down, putting all of my energy into doing something impossible."
"I believe the primary difference is that you're able to say that in the past tense."
"That's because she's dead. Hell. I've been there, Wes. There's no way even Buffy could've survived it this long."
"Lilah has."
"Lilah was dead before she went there. So was I. Buffy's not immortal. If she could even breathe the air there it'd be a miracle. And she was surrounded by hordes of every demon known to man and then some. Not to mention the time thing. Even if she somehow managed to live to a ripe old age, she's probably been dead for centuries in that dimension."
"You once told me you knew a human boy who'd survived a hell dimension for 16 years."
Angel's hands clenched into fists. He shoved them in his pockets and walked to the edge of the terrace, taking a moment to really feel the sun on his skin. It wasn't fair. He'd finally gotten his reward and there was no one left to share it with him. Buffy. Cordelia. Connor. Everybody he'd ever wanted to be human for, gone. He swallowed. "Right. Sixteen years in the space of two weeks from my perspective. Like I said."
Wesley nodded. "But even so, Spike has to know that he tried. That he did all he could for her. It's his way of grieving."
Angel knew that. Hadn't he tried everything he could to get Connor back from Quor-toth, even though it looked impossible? He remembered the people, the innocents who'd gotten hurt because of his own desperation and single-mindedness. He shook his head. "You don't know him like I do, Wes. Spike doesn't give up. He won't stop until he's done something incredibly stupid trying to get her back."
"He can't do anything. There's no magic left for him to tap into. He'll learn that on his own."
"Maybe." Angel paced back over to the table. "I just think that the sooner he accepts she's gone, the better it'll be for everybody. Especially him. Besides, Spike doesn't need magic to screw everything up." He stood still for a moment, considering the possibilities inherent in what he'd just said. Then he took off toward the elevator.

Wesley got up to follow him. "Where are you going?"
"To check on him, like I said."
"Should I come with you?"
"Nah. You've got work to do. I can handle Spike."
"By 'handle' you mean�"
Angel pushed the call button and looked at Wes. "Talk to him. I'm not planning to beat him up."
"It's not him getting beaten that I'm worried about."
Damn. How much did Angel hate that Spike got to keep some super strength? Just another layer of crap on the shoe bottom that was Angel's life most of the time. Shanshu was supposed to be his big reward -- and yeah, he was enjoying it, don't get him wrong -- but looking at the benefits that came with Spike's, it was hard not to feel sometimes like he'd gotten the booby prize. The doors slid open, and both men stepped inside. "I'm not gonna piss him off."
"Perhaps not intentionally."
"Wes�"
"Well, I'm sorry, Angel, but you and Spike have a tendency to clash at the best of times. And this is definitely not one of those times."
"You don't think I'm capable of getting along with him?"
"History would suggest not."
"Yeah, well, history doesn't know everything." The elevator opened again, and Angel stormed into the lobby. Swarms of people in business attire moved out of his way with a smile and a nod and a "Good morning, Mr. Angel!" He didn't think he'd ever get used to that.
"Even so," said Wesley, keeping up beside him, "perhaps I should come along as a buffer-"
"Hang on."
Angel and Wes both stopped. The sea of well-pressed Wolfram & Hart employees parted to reveal a lone figure in rumpled khakis and flannel standing at the courtesy desk.
Wes squinted. "Is that�?"
The figure turned to reveal a familiar profile, bisected by a black eye patch.
"Yup," said Angel. "Xander!" he called.
"Hey," Xander called back, coming to meet them. "Just the head honcho the receptionist refused to let me see without running a background check first."
"Uh, yeah." Angel smiled, a little sheepish. "They take security pretty seriously around here. So, what're you doing here?"
Xander nodded. "Now that's the kind of warm welcome I always expect from old friends." He shrugged. "I'm in town to see Dawn, thought I'd drop by, see how's things. So. How's things?"
"Good," said Angel.
"Excellent," said Wes. "It's amazing the amount of trouble simple human drama can create without benefit of the supernatural."
"Yeah, it keeps us busy. Spike's not here."
Xander blinked. "Okay. And what makes you think I'm here for Spike?"
"Because you never liked me or Wes and Dawn wouldn't have asked you to come check on either of us."
Xander nodded. "Fair enough. So, where is he?"
"He didn't come in today," said Wesley. "We were just on our way over to check on him."
"Or I was, anyway," said Angel.
"Right. So, tell you what. I'll go," Xander jerked a thumb at the doors behind him, "and if it's anything other than situation normal I'll give you guys a call."
"Actually, situation normal is what we're afraid of," said Wes.
"He's not doing so good, huh?"
"No," said Angel, "he's really not."
***
Xander took his time getting to Spike's apartment. He normally took anything Angel said with a grain of salt anyway, and besides, Angel and Wesley had never had to share a place with Crazy-Voices-Hearing Spike; so he figured they didn't really know from bad. Still, if Angel was worried about the guy, it couldn't be good.
It's not like anybody had expected him to deal well with losing Buffy. Xander remembered the last time, how devastated Spike had been. So much so that they'd all taken pity on him, tried to include him in the group as much as they could. Okay, well, taken advantage of his strength and his willingness to take up Buffy's work was more like it, but that was a different time. Before the soul. Before the big self-sacrifice and the humanity. Before Buffy had promised to spend the rest of her life with him.
In Spike's hallway, Xander stopped and thumbed the diamond ring he kept in his pocket. He'd been surprised when Anya had returned it to him. He had figured that hocking it would've been her first act of vengeance. But she'd kept it, and given it back the day before� the day after they'd decided to try again. For later, maybe, she'd said. And then suddenly there was no later.
God. If Xander could bring her back�
So yeah, he got it. And he knew that Angel was right to be worried. When they'd brought Buffy back before, Spike hadn't been angry because of what they'd done. He'd hated them for not letting him in on it. Letting him go on grieving, when he could've been hoping. But they all learned their lesson then. Hopefully Spike had, too. After all, he'd been the one preaching to Xander about consequences. Spike knew all about consequences. So surely he had the sense not to be doing what Angel thought he might be doing.
Bracing himself, Xander knocked on Spike's door.
And� nothing happened. He knocked again, harder this time.
"Sod off!"
Well, at least there were life signs. "Spike! C'mon, open up!"
And more nothing. He raised his hand to pound on the door, but stopped when he heard some shuffling, followed by the loosening of a chain and the undoing of locks. Then the door swung open. "What the hell do you want?"
"Good, good, thanks for asking. And how are you?" Not good, obviously. From the stubble on his face, the dark roots in his hair, and the faint smell drifting into the hallway, personal hygiene didn't appear to be a priority for Spike at the moment. He looked like hell. Xander told him so.
Spike rolled his eyes and turned away, but left the door open. Taking that as an invitation, Xander walked in and scanned the small apartment as he shut the door behind him. Not as bad as he'd expected. He'd thought he might have to wade through empty liquor bottles and other debris typical of Spike-depression, but the place was actually fairly neat, considering. Books were scattered all over, and housekeeping looked to be about as much a priority as hygiene, but at least it wasn't scary. Dark, though, with not a single blind open.
Spike picked up a pack of cigarettes from a table and lit one.
"I thought you quit smoking."
"Quit quitting." Spike shook out his match. "What're you doing here, Harris?"
"I was in town, thought I'd say hi. It occurred to me that I've got a grand total of three friends left living, and like it or not, you're one of 'em."
Spike raised an eyebrow.
Xander sighed. "Fine. Dawn sent me. But I wouldn't have come if I didn't care. She would've come herself, but she's tied up with finals right now. She's worried about you. And she's not the only one. Maybe if you'd answer the phone now and then�"
Spike looked over at his machine, where the "full" light blinked in full force. He sighed. "Been busy."
"Too busy to call and check in at work?"
"Damn." Spike shrugged. "Didn't even know what time of day it was."
"Yeah. You know what's good for that? Clocks. Windows, too." Xander went over and opened the blinds, spilling sunlight into the apartment. He looked back at Spike, who'd closed his eyes against the light. "By the way, you know that whole combustion thing? Not really a problem anymore." He looked around at all the books and notes. "So, whatcha working on?" As if he had to ask.
Spike walked over to a leather-bound journal and slammed it shut. "Work stuff."
"Spike�"
"Look, I'm just reading, Harris. That a crime?"
"Maybe. Depends on the material. Especially in certain states." He watched as Spike moved around, shutting books and gathering them up. "Find what you're looking for?"
Spike dumped the pile on his kitchen table. "Not so far."
"Well, you look like you could use a break. Tell you what. You go get cleaned up, then we'll go out. Get you some fresh air, sunshine, maybe a meal�" he glanced at Spike's even-more-pronounced-than-usual cheekbones, "�or three. Are you eating?"
"Not hungry much these days."
"Maybe that'll change on the walk over."
Spike sighed. "What're the odds that if I just ignore you you'll go away?"
Xander smiled. "Zero to none."
***
A shower and shave had done Spike a world of good, as far as Xander could tell. Now all he needed was a good night's sleep, some food in his system, a little sun and, oh yeah, the big hole in his heart to be filled up, and he'd be right as rain. Xander figured he and IHOP could help with at least one of those.
"Come on, Spike, eat." He watched Spike absently push the pad of butter around his waffle so that it was equally distributed in each little square, and wondered if Spike was aware that that was how Buffy used to eat her waffles. Xander sighed. Of course he was. "You look more like the walking dead now than you ever did when you actually were."
That earned the flash of an almost-grin. "S'pose you'll go tattle on me to Bit if I don't?"
"Yup. Then she'll have to come check up on you herself. She'll miss study time, screw up her finals, flunk out of college, and her life'll be ruined. All because you refused your waffle. You don't want that on your conscience."
"No," said Spike, picking up his fork and cutting off a square, "that plate's full." He took a few more obedient bites before laying down his fork and reaching for his coffee. "So, what news bring you of the gang?" He took a sip before amending, "Such as it is."
"Well, nothing I can tell you about Dawn you don't already know."
"How's the business?"
"It's good. We're starting to contract some sites outside of Santa Barbara. I'm still handling the client end of things. I do all right with the tools, but the insurance folks don't trust me in high places. Afraid I might misjudge the distance and walk off the end of a beam." He shrugged.
"So why don't you get a prosthetic? Then they'd never know."
"What, so I can be one of those guys with the creepy eye that never looks directly at you?" Xander shook his head. "Besides, Willow and I used to know this kid in junior high. His brother accidentally shot his eye out with a BB gun? So he used to pop his fake eye out and chase us with it." He shuddered. "I kinda like having people know what they're getting with me."
"Women dig the patch, eh?"
Xander nodded. "Definite chick-magnet."
That time, Spike did smile. "And what of Willow? Still in Israel?"
"Nope, she's back and all kibbutzed out. Ready to hole up by herself for a while and practice a lifestyle of hedonistic materialism."
"Communal lifestyle didn't agree with her?"
"Not so much. I think she thought it was about as close to running away to join a convent as a Wiccan, Jewish lesbian could get. A few months of hard labor and being totally without computers knocked some sense back into her."
Spike actually chuckled at that. "So, where is she? Staying with you?"
Xander sipped his Coke and shook his head. "Nah, she's up in San Francisco. She's already got some fancy programming job lined up. Guess with her skills they don't really care that she never finished college."
"Smart. Smarter'n Angel. You'd think he'd have hired her."
"I think he offered." Xander shrugged. "Guess she still needed some distance."
"Know the feeling."
Spike picked half-heartedly at his breakfast while Xander sipped his Coke, both men silent under the weight of their history.
"Spike--"
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't tell me how it's been a year, and I should get on with my life, or that Buffy wouldn't want to see me like this, 'cause you know, I really think Buffy has other things on her mind right now."
"Okay, I was gonna ask if you wanted a refill. But those are all valid points."
Spike slammed down his fork and shoved his plate away. "And if you tell me she's probably dead, by God Harris, I will throw you through this window."
"Hey!" Xander smiled apologetically at a waitress who'd paused to glance their way. "Spike, that's not why I'm here."
"Oh, right. I'm sure you're here because we're best chums, and you just really wanted to buy me breakfast and catch up."
"No, I'm here because one of my best chums loved you, and like it or not that makes you part of this fun little family. And that means regular visits from the in-laws."
"Weren't married yet," he muttered, reaching for the coffee.
"Don't pick apart my analogy. Look, man, I'm worried about you. We all are." He paused while Spike sipped his coffee, wondering if he should forge ahead. He was pretty sure the getting thrown through the window was an empty threat. "Angel thinks--"
"I know what Angel thinks."
"Is he right?"
Spike set down his mug and stared at it. Finally he spoke. "You think I should just leave her there?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know." The waitress came over to refill their drinks, but they both waved her away. Xander lowered his voice. "I do know that there are always consequences--"
Spike barked out a laugh. "You wanna lecture me about consequences?"
"No. All I'm saying is, the world is free from evil now. Well, except for the good, old-fashioned human kind. But there aren't any more vampires, or demons, or apocalypses to avert or Hellmouths to guard. That's something Buffy would want, something she was willing to die for. Wherever she is... if you mess that up for her sake, she'll never forgive herself. Or you."
"S'why I won't do anything until I'm sure I can do it right."
"Like we were so sure we were doing it right when we brought her back last time?"
Spike shook his head. "This is different. I'm not talking about raising the dead, I'm talking about rescuing someone from a hell dimension who was very much alive when she went in."
"But what if she's not now?" Xander thought the look Spike gave him might send him straight to hell, but he persisted. "What if she's not? Then what?"
Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I have to know. I can't sleep... and when I do, all I do is dream about... I had her, Xander. I had her in my hands and... and I let go."
"No, you couldn't hold on. Big difference there."
"Not from where I'm sitting. And all I do, day and night, is imagine her in that place."
"I know."
Spike's eyes narrowed. "You do?"
Xander nodded. "I think about it too. And it makes me sick. But I can't change it. Neither can you. Not without risking everything she fought for."
His lips pursed as he seemed to chew on that. Then he slumped back in his seat. "Yeh."
"Yeah?"
"I've been at it a year. Researching, chasing leads... every time I think I'm close I just smack into another dead end."
"At least you can say you tried." The waitress brought their check. Spike went for his wallet, but Xander grabbed the receipt. "I got it."
"Thanks, mate."
Xander counted the money out of his wallet. "I know how hard it is, Spike. Letting go, I mean. I want her back, too." Her, and Anya, and Giles and everybody else they'd lost.
"Yeh." Spike sniffed. Then he got up. "Well, thanks for the chat 'n' chew, Harris. I should get to the office. I can still put in half a day, smooth things over with the boss." He said "boss" with a roll of his eyes. Xander guessed that was habitual.
"All right, sure," Xander said, standing. "Hey, I'm in town for a few days. Maybe we can get together for a beer later."
"Yeh, let's do that. Gimme a call later." Spike started for the door.
"Hey, speaking of, call Dawn. She'll feel a lot better if she hears you're okay coming from you."
Spike waved. "First thing," he promised, then he was gone.
Xander watched him walk by the window, back the way they'd come. As he tried to decide what to do with the rest of his day, his stomach growled. Glancing at the clock over the grill, he realized it was lunchtime already. With a sigh, he waved the waitress over and sat back down.

~*~
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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground