Wherever You Will Go

"Dawn!"

No answer.

"Daaawwn!"

Still nothing. Buffy stamped her foot impatiently.

"Dawn, if you don't get your lazy butt down here right this second I swear I'll, I'll . . .I'll do something you really won't like. A lot!"

'Wow, way to sound threatening, Buffy' she silently berated herself.

"Fine, fine, I'll be right there!" Came the groggy response.

"Well, why don't you 'Be right here' a little faster, ha? You overslept and you have to be to school in 30 minutes, so unless you feel like going in your pajamas I suggest you get up right now."

There was no answer, only a loud thud followed by much shuffling and banging overhead. Buffy smiled to herself as she pictured her sister scurrying about her room, frantically emptying drawers and pulling everything out of her closet in a desperate attempt to find the perfect outfit in less than 10 minutes. It wasn't too long ago Buffy had been a teenager herself, so she remembered what it was like. Dawn was 17 now, a junior in high school. Buffy shuddered at the thought of being in high school again. Those weren't exactly the greatest years of her life.

Dawn finally emerged down the stairs exactly 20 minutes later, wearing a fairly short black skirt and a soft blue sweater, her shiny brown hair down around her shoulders, grazing her waist.

"Oooh, you look nice. I'm sure Diego will just love it." Buffy teased.

Dawn blushed as she thought of her new crush, and punched her sister in the arm. "Dork," She muttered, rolling her eyes.

Buffy gave a mock-innocent grin. "What, Diego's cute! What with that adorable accent, and that cute smile he always flashes your way, and . . . ." "Stop!" Dawn protested, turning beat red. She grabbed her bag off the table and headed to the door.

"Fine, then. Oh, and you better hurry. You only have 10 minutes to get there. Have fun!"

"Sure, whatever."

Dawn paused to give her sister a hug before starting on her merry way.

They were lucky enough to live very close to the school, so Dawn usually walked there every day.

Buffy realized she had to get a move on herself, as she had to go to work soon. She had gotten a job with the council, which was pretty ironic considering her inherent distrust of them in the past. But since the battle with the First, everything was different. Though the agents of the First had successfully weakened the council, killing most of its members and destroying all of their research, they had regrouped, calling members from all over the world to come to their aid. Giles, being the remaining member with the most experience, was put in charge, and thus the council was reestablished. Buffy's job was to train the new potentials, monitor their abilities and report their progress to the council. Potentials were put through what Buffy thought of as half boot camp, half school. They were put through the ringer physically, and tested on their fighting skills. Based on Buffy's reports, the most skilled potentials were allowed to "graduate" and move on to more extensive training, and out of Buffy's control, while the others had to stay until they passed as well. Buffy sympathized with them when they became frustrated and she tried not to be too hard on them, though sometimes she had no choice.

Buffy went to make herself some tea, and she had just poured the water into the kettle when she heard a knock on her door. She set the kettle on the stove and frowned, glancing at the clock over the kitchen doorway.

'Wonder who that could be? Little early for visitors.' And she certainly wasn't expecting anyone. Nevertheless, she padded over to the door and paused to glance through the peephole. Immediately recognizing the person at the other side of the door, she swung it open to stare at the rather fatigued looking face of Andrew.

"Andrew, hi!" Buffy said, but hesitated before giving him a hug as she recognized the weariness in his features. His clothes were rumpled and messy, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot. "My God, you look like you haven't slept in days! Is something wrong?"

She hadn't seen him since he moved a few months back. He had lived with her and Dawn for a while until he had the chance to get back on his feet, to establish a living. Right after he moved from the apartment, Buffy and Dawn got word of their father's death, and he had left them some money to go buy and actual house. Neither girls took it that hard, since he had never been a part of their lives, but since he was their father they still felt some grieving was in order.

But last she heard Andrew was doing great, starting his own business, so she wondered why he was in such a sad-looking state now. Worry plagued her thoughts as she speculated what could possibly be wrong.

"Uh, Buffy." Andrew finally spoke, "Can I come in?" Buffy shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Um, yes. Yes, of course. Why don't we go talk in the living room?"

Buffy stepped aside and Andrew nodded, brushing past her to move towards the living room. Buffy frowned, closed the door behind him, and followed him into the room where he carefully sat on her leather couch, shifting uncomfortably as he played with the sleeve of his jacket.

"You, uh, want anything to eat? Something to drink?" Buffy offered.

"No, thanks."

"Andrew . . ."

"Buffy," he interrupted, "There's something I never told you that maybe I should have, but I, um . . . . There's, there's something I think you should know."

Buffy gulped, a lump in her throat and her stomach practically doing anxious back flips. She really didn't like the tone in his voice.

"Andrew, what . . .?"

"I've got some news, Buffy. Big news. You, uh, might wanna sit down for this."

~~~~~~~~

Sp,Spike?" Buffy repeated once Andrew finished his rather lengthy story, her face sheet-white. "Survived?"

Andrew sighed. "Buffy, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I really am. But he made me promise not to...he said he'd take care of it. I assumed he'd tell you, I never meant to keep it from you."

Buffy didn't respond, her eyes wide and unexpressive as she struggled to register this information. So he didn't die in the Hellmouth after all. He was alive. Her Spike was alive. Her vision became blurred with unshed tears, her emotions beginning to overtake her.

Andrew continued, oblivious to her tears. "When he and Angel stopped by that week right before I moved, I thought that..."

"What!" Buffy cried, jumping up from the couch as her sorrow quickly faded. She could feel her face turning red as her anger raised her blood pressure off the charts. "Angel and Spike were here? They came here, to this apartment, and no one told me?!"

She furiously paced the room, but stopped abruptly so as to catch Andrew in her death-glare, hoping it would scare the truth out of him.

"Y,yes," He stammered, "They came because they heard about the Immortal. They were worried because . . . .I guess they have some kind of history with him, some issues with him or something, and they didn't trust him. They thought he had you under some sort of love spell. So I told them nope, no spells going on here, and assured them you were perfectly fine. So, they left."

"Oh no," Buffy murmured, "So Spike thought I knew he was alive, and that I'd moved on, with. . . .Oh no." She repeated, putting an exasperated hand to her forehead.

"But, but . . . Why didn't Spike tell me he was alive? Why didn't Angel? Why would he do such a stupid thing? Didn't he know how much I missed him, didn't he care?" Buffy began to sputter, her words angry and frustrated as she ranted, "Oh, when I get my hands on him I'm gonna kill him for not telling me. Where is he? For that matter, where's Angel? The two of them are so gonna get it for keeping this from me, and when I find them I'll..."

"Buffy!" She finally realized Andrew had been calling her name. "But that's just it, that's what I came to tell you. You're not gonna find them, you can't."

"What do you mean, I'm not going to find them?"

Andrew's eyes filled with tears and he hung his head, dreading what he was about to say.

"You're not going to find them, because they're both dead."