“Buffy!”
Buffy’s head snapped toward the direction of Spike’s pained cry, immediately alarmed by the desperate tone in his voice, a tone she had never heard him use. He was brave, rarely giving in to pain or fear.
A champion.
So to hear him cry out in such an urgent manner had Buffy fearing the worst.
“Spike!” She cried, terrified for him as she saw a brilliant orange light shoot from the amulet, Spike caught in its radiance as it single-handedly dusted every Turok-Han in the Hellmouth and the earth began to rumble ominously, growing increasingly violent.
She heard Faith’s orders echo, clear and commanding, “Everybody out now!”
But at the sight of Spike’s condition Buffy’s heart skipped, her stomach clenched, and she dashed to Spike’s side in haste, Faith’s demand falling on deaf ears. Buffy watched helplessly while Spike trembled from a pain the growing power of the amulet bestowed upon him.
It was then that she knew. She could see it in his eyes, could feel it in her soul. Spike was going to die. The man who had stuck by her though thick and thin, who believed in her even when she found it hard to believe in herself, who had been through hell and back to become worthy of her love, who now stood before her drenched in light, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.
But as she reached for his hand, trying to interlace her fingers through his, she gasped in horror as it crumbled to dust before her eyes; skin, muscle, and bone disintegrating under her touch.
Her friend. Her love.
Reduced to a pile of ashes.
It was the same dream Buffy had been having since that fateful day. She saw their last moments together over and over again in her dreams, the fire dancing before her eyes. It always ended the same way: hands torn apart, watching him melt away, seeing his skin slowly fade to ashes that scattered throughout the Hellmouth.
Spike would have wanted her to be happy. She knew that. And she was, for the most part. But still, she wondered where he was now, if he was really lost forever as her eyes had led her to believe.
Her years as a slayer taught her to believe the unbelievable, that's for sure.
The moment that bus pulled away from the gargantuan crater formerly known as Sunnydale, Buffy lost it. It was then reality had sunk in and the tears started flowing. True, there was a lot to be happy about. But she had suffered great loss too, just as the slayer was always doomed to do. She cried for her mother, her home, the girls that had fallen in the battle.
And for Spike.
Of course, she did stop crying eventually, but never the hurting. Not completely.
Buffy loved her friends and family, loved her new-found freedom from the slayer burden, loved the whole new world of opportunities opened to her as a result. In all, life was good, pleasant and peaceful, surrounded by loved ones, not much to complain about.
But she still felt like some nameless piece of her was missing. There were times when she’d be laughing with her friends, enjoying a night on the town, when she could momentarily forget that piece altogether. But often, the second she’d arrive home and slide under the covers, the familiar ache would return in a flash, hitting her like a steel weight.
Even though Buffy had been dating the Immortal, who her meddlesome friends had set her up with in an attempt to help her move on and forget.
But it wasn't that easy.
Buffy felt happier when she was with the Immortal. She had a good time with him, at least. He didn't yell at her, didn't get frustrated with her, didn't try to throw a punch at her. In fact, they rarely even disagreed about anything.
He was almost TOO stable for a hundred plus year old hunk.
But she was never in love with him.
Which is why she had broken things off just two days prior. She told him she still wanted to be friends, that she enjoyed his company, but that he deserved someone who could reciprocate his feelings. Buffy knew it was probably one of the top ten most frequently used "It's not you, it's me" breakup lines. But she didn't care.
She still found herself yearning for more, something deep down in her gut told her she couldn’t move on in another relationship just yet. She sensed something, could feel something coming. A mere whisper of a thought in the back of her mind that refused to cease, despite her best efforts.
Her friends would think it was a pipe dream, an unhealthy hope and obsession, so she kept it to herself. For now, at least.
Buffy wandered outside to the balcony, leaning against the railing as she hugged her robe tighter around her body. Every night she looked up to the sky, gazing at the stars bright against the darkness of night, and wondered if somewhere at that very moment, by some miracle, Spike was doing the exact same thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The stars twinkled brightly in the sky. Spike sat on the steps, moonlight glistening in his platinum hair as he took a drag of his cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke, watched as it swirled and dissipated in the breeze. He tilted his head, observing the sparkling orbs as he watched them glimmer, bright and serene.
Drusilla had always loved the stars. She pretended to see them even when she was indoors, during the daytime. For years after she left him for the chaos demon, Spike used to do this exact thing, pining for her as he gazed at the stars and wallowed in his own misery.
But as he looked up to the stars now, Drusilla wasn’t even a fleeting thought in his mind. The cool breeze seemed to beckon to him, a faint whisper, repeating over and over again the one thing he felt would never cease to preoccupy his mind so readily.
Buffy.
The woman he loved, who would have his unbeating heart until the end of time.
And within the next three days, he was going to see her again.
He had made the decision to go to her after the battle with the senior partners. He knew she was with the Immortal now, living in Rome, and he didn’t expect to start a relationship with her, still didn’t feel worthy of that. She had moved on, and she was happy. He was glad for her, hoping she would be radiant when he saw her, glowing.
Effulgent.
Part of him still wanted to back out of going, so he could still be remembered as the hero Buffy wanted him to be. And besides, especially after going out in a blaze of glory, he didn’t want to just show up in her life now only to complicate things.
Another nagging thought refused to cease tormenting Spike’s mind. Did Buffy really love him?
He had wanted to believe her when she told him in the Hellmouth, saw that she was willing to stay there with him despite the crumbling walls that threatened to crush her at any moment. But he started having doubts during his time at Wolfram and Hart.
Was what Andrew said true? Was she actually in love with him? He needed to find out for sure, though part of him was still terrified to discover the truth.
But after he almost died in that gruesome battle just three weeks ago, he felt he owed it to her to tell her everything, to give their relationship at least some closure before it was too late. Plus, Spike also had the highly undesirable task of bearing bad news, horrible news that twisted his insides when he thought of the pain Buffy would feel upon hearing it.
Angel was dead. He had been slain in the battle.
Damned fire breathing dragon was what got him. Spike shuddered as he recalled the vision of his grand-sire set aflame, dying before his eyes. Even while he was burning, Angel managed to deliver the coup-de-grace, sinking his sword into the dragon’s throat just before he dissolved into ashes.
Spike felt he owed Buffy more than a phone call to tell her something of this magnitude. He wanted to make sure she knew Angel died a hero, brave and valiant as he went down fighting, never ceasing in his efforts. Spike mourned the loss of his grand-sire. Granted, the great poof had been a bloody thorn in his side most of the time, and he often resented him for that. But he still respected him, knew that deep down he was a good, noble man, though a royal pain in the ass.
Spike shifted his position to ground out the cigarette stub beneath his boot, his black duster rustling against the steps as he fidgeted. He silently cursed the senior partners as he thought of all the damage they had done.
‘I hope the whole lot of ‘em are rotting in Hell for what they did, the whole damned bunch.’ He thought bitterly.
Spike suddenly realized the sun was beginning to make its presence known, light slowly creeping into the sky as dawn approached. He stood, spun on his heel and walked inside to escape the sun’s rays, thinking of the journey ahead of him.
‘Well Goldilocks’, he thought wistfully, ‘Hope you’re open for visitors.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Next Day
“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 pj's 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 had to endure 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. “Woah, 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. Yeah, sure. 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. 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 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 Rome, 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 . . . . 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 anger and frustration near the boiling point as she ranted, “Oh, when I get my hands on him I’m gonna strangle him! Or, no, wait, strangling can't kill a vamp, I'll just stake him a few times! 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.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ok, well, this is the other WIP I've been working on... I actually originally posted it over on BSCentral, but I thought I'd try posting it here too... I'm giving this story a rating of 18 for now, but it will most likely be NC-17. Anyway, hope you enjoy this story! :-)