Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to all those amazing writers who inspired me to finally write my first fic. Authors at ALL ABOUT SPIKE and ELYSIAN FIELDS etc. Thank you for giving the ideas and influencing me to write as true to the characters as I could.



This is my version of what happened in the Series Finale of BTVS. In my interpretation of the relationship between the two, both Buffy and Spike think a WHOLE lot more. In my opinion reading is supposed to be like opening a window to the soul, so it just doesn’t seem right to pass over minute details. It makes their relationship so much more real, their insecurities easier to relate with.



To this day, I am an avid Buffy fan and much of my fanfic has to do with including everything Buffy I could get my hands on: meaning most of my fic is up to date with Spoilers and other Buffyverse material that seems canon (i.e. Tales of the Slayer - the Comic). I try to include scenes that don’t happen in the show, just because the Buffyverse isn’t limited to 144 hours of television.



I would like to thank all the people who have acknowledged my fic thus far, as you have given me encouragement to continue honing my new craft!


FYI:: This fic can also be read at Elysian Fields, which includes the pair's thoughts in italics. I find that with italics, the mood I was trying to capture is enhanced. Otherwise, happy reading all!!
"The real beginning is what does it mean to be a slayer? And, not to feel guilty about the power, but having seen the dark side of it, and finding the light again. To explore the idea of the Slayer fully and to see a very grown up and romantic and confusing relationship that isn't about power, but actually genuinely beautiful between two people in the form of Buffy and Spike."
- Joss Whedon




Farewell



It was the evening that called out to her. Leave it to the darkness to call her name, enticing her to join it in its song. Seven long years of pain, struggle, despair, and the battle. Buffy Summers always had the battle to avert. Given there was always the enemy to face and the victory to be had. Sure her family had looked upon her with admiration and love and stood by her at her most terrifying moments, but somehow she felt that they could not understand that the fight was never just fought one out of the three hundred and sixty five days. No, the true heroine act was the everyday battle she put forth every day, every hour, every second of her life.



And it was strange that this evening, she came to reminisce on her years and acknowledge how much she had changed. She realized that she no longer feared the darkness, instead opting to sit in silence while the numerous girls paced with worry and tried to find the strength for tomorrow’s fight. Their awkwardness, their shy smiles, their unsure behavior, and their doubt, reminded Buffy so much of herself when she first moved to Sunnydale. Amazed, she pondered the lives that they would lead if given the opportunity to live past tomorrow. And with a twinge of comfort, she realized that they would never be alone as she was. They would not experience the burden of being the chosen one. It was in that moment that Buffy realized the entirety of their plan. She was not just altering the fate of herself and her precious family. The world would be anew, and girls all over the earth would be reborn. The most endearing fact was that they had at least each other, while Buffy had no one but her watcher for counsel. Buffy beamed that Faith too at least had Buffy there to share the brunt of fighting evil, to talk out the dashed hopes and dreams of having a normal occupation as a teacher, as a doctor, or even something as trivial as telemarketing. “Loneliness is about the scariest thing there is” Angel had once told her. Well, I’m making sure that no one experiences it, not on my watch Buffy thought confidently. As a child, she never had to worry about such things, as her mother carefully guarded her and tried to understand her. Those were the times before Dawn, before the memories were implanted into her brain. Those memories, the real ones, that belonged to Buffy and Joyce alone.





At the thought of her late mother, Buffy’s heart clenched with heartache. Oh mom, I wish you were here to take care of Dawnie and me. That you were here to see all of this. The friends she already considered to be family embedded themselves into her heart. She remembered the frenzy and relief she felt when Giles visited the house more and Willow and Tara brought some of their clothes and belongings into storage bins for more frequent sleepovers. An empty Summers’ home was not common. The house would never again be the same. Towels would not be folded neatly, arranged by color and texture as her mother was the only woman in the household so pretentious about organization. Buffy would never come home to the smell of freshly cooked soup, and how the aroma would fill up the room. She would not come home to find t-shirts folded and still warm from the dryer atop her bed. No, she could not do any of those things the way Joyce had because she relied so heavily upon her. Or took her for granted Buffy thought passively. Had she known that terrible summer that she had run away would be one of the last of Joyce’s short existence, Buffy would have stuck around and stubbornly clung in finding a resolution with her mom.





When a loud crash erupted from inside the house, Buffy’s slayer instinct kicked in immediately as her hand instinctively reached for the doorknob. Before she could act, she heard a shriek of laughter and heard the other girls jokingly teasing Andrew on his clumsiness. Buffy could barely make out Andrew’s pathetic yet sincere rebuttal as he searched for a broom. Buffy’s grip on the knob relaxed considerably and she breathed a sigh of relief. No bringers tonight, she thought with relief. She figured they too were preparing for the eminent “surprise” attack, if it could even be called that. Buffy knew in her heart that the First Evil was present everywhere, all along. There was no doubt that it was in each and every girl’s heart, present even at her greatest hour as a slayer, as she spoke courageously about sharing her power with a lot of them.



The idea of sharing the power that had been for so long her own was…overwhelming. Perhaps she came to grips with the fact that she had indeed surpassed her wildest expectations. With each passing foe, Buffy found herself reaching further and further, finding new methods to fighting the Big bad. Buffy continued to pursue her introspective thoughts and found that tonight was the last night of everything she knew. Because after the battle tomorrow, after they challenged evil itself, there would be no turning back. She thought regretfully at the past year, at how her resurrection became a curse. Buffy shamefully crossed her arms and finally admitted that she was being ungrateful for the second chance that her friends had given her. After they had told her the account of her resurrection many months later, and how the urn of osiris was broken and how they had worried they lost her forever, she rationalized that if the higher powers really wanted her dead, the shattered urn would be the final straw in preventing her from returning. No, something had wanted her to be back. Someone wanted her here, on this night, even now as she stood on her patio awaiting for her final moment. Someone brought her here to lead these girls into battle and to change the destiny of so many around the world. It was time that Buffy moved on from her sheltered life. It was time for her to move herself out of Sunnydale familiarity and into the world she so longed to see.



Her mother had mentioned the beauty of the African culture when she had left town to gather art for her gallery. The slayer wanted to feel the warmth of a desert sunset on her tan skin, wanted to travel. Angel had once told her of the moonlight in the Egyptian desert could seduce the most experienced traveler into breathlessness. She recalled with bittersweet longing how he had thrown his arm over her and kissed her sweetly and whispered “I will show you one day, my love. Just you and me.” With curiosity she recalled how Giles teasingly goaded her with images of monasteries in China that could make a Sunnydale girl want to abandon shopping malls forever. With such hopeful thoughts, she thought of each of those so dear to her.



A flood of memories came to her.



The first time Xander approached her: “Can I have you?...I mean can I help you?”



His boyish good looks and sincere smile. His honesty, and simplicity and how he fought to protect the ones he loved so courageously. Although he had no power to wield in battle, he was the emotional glue that held the team together. His optimism when all seemed lost, his willingness to back Buffy even though it was Buffy’s ghastly idea to walk into the Vineyard trap. It was no wonder that Caleb had seen the power within Xander and had decided to pluck out his gift. And sweet Willow who was putty in Xander’s hands. Buffy smiled as she recalled braiding Willow’s long red hair as they sat and watched Hindi television and wondered innocently about foot caresses. Will had always been the innocent, intelligent girl that at first did not seem to know her place in the world. With Buffy’s presence and encouragement, Willow had been inspired to contribute something to the fight against evil, at Buffy’s side. Unlike Buffy, she came to embrace the change of college and experimented her sexuality. It turned out that the redhead today no longer was the girl who Cordelia initially made fun of. Willow was quick to bash Angel for dumping her before Prom and jovially called Riley’s charismatic lover “That bitch”. A dear friend in every way, Buffy could not think of parting with Willow and often joked with her about nursing home rematches while playing Dungeons and Dragons.



And Spike. Even the mention of his name made Buffy tingle all over with warm sensations and a feeling of security. Her dearest friend and loyal companion.

My champion. She felt a certain sense of relief in admitting that she had purposefully sent Angel away. Things certainly were confusing when he came to Sunnydale, as she always associated Angel with love and security and all things pure and ignorant in her life. Before the times that Buffy grew up and realized that withholding information from a boyfriend was in actuality a sign of insecurity in a relationship: soft grey eyes, sandy blonde hair, a gentle, trusting smile. Riley Buffy thought fondly. That developing a relationship over a year based on glances and the brushing of hands could keep her awake at night. Spike.

She could not think of where she wanted to be. She had already visited her mother’s grave, Angel’s first apartment, the ice skating rink, the burnt factory, the hardware store, the Sunnydale Cinema. She’d basically walked a marathon through Sunnydale, getting a grip on her life up until this point.



She realized she didn’t want to be with her dearest friends and loving watcher. Didn’t want to spend the night chastising a bunch of girls who were skeptical of her anyways.



She faced the front door with conviction, and walked into the Summers’ home.

***

I didn’t know these wooden stairs creaked so loudly Buffy realized. How had she not noticed the sound before? The way the wood almost gave in step after step as she cautiously descended into the basement. Why didn’t I ever notice this the hundreds of other times that I’ve come down here? It suddenly occurred to her walking to the basement was becoming difficult by the day. Wherever Spike and her were going, they were going their together, and Buffy thought she might break from the confusion of it all. It seemed like everything she had to say to him held such emotional weight. When it came to Spike, all things irrelevant seemed to fade away, and Buffy found herself at a loss for words. Their history, their violence, their rivalry, their companionship, their passion: it became suddenly clear that they were equals in everything.



She reached the bottom of the flight of stairs and expectantly watched him. At that moment, Spike stood from his reverie on the mattress and stood to face her.



Unsure of how to begin to explain the emotions she felt strumming through her, she could not muster up any words that came to her mind.



“I was hoping you’d show. ‘Suss out one last round for the big showdown.” On the eve before their possible anhilation, the best he could offer were words related to battle tactics and attack plans. First, Spike the lieutenant. Second, Spike the lover. And with disappointment, he acknowledged that he had put his battle foot forward to be close to her. To relate to her. Because on the surface, Buffy Summers was strong and unbreakable. Isn’t that why she had come to speak to him in the first place? Was that not why she let him live? And wasn’t his very purpose to support her in her fight against evil? No matter what cost? When her friends and family had lost confidence in her, he never wavered in his conviction of her. And so he willingly admitted that he would go through hell and back to be hers. For once in your life, William, avoid the bleedin’ urge to destroy all that you touch.

With tentative steps, she crossed the distance between them. So many things running through me, and all I can think about is that this could be the last time we have alone. Will this be the last time I see your beautiful face? Will we ever have the chance to fight side by side like we were meant to? Will there be an opportunity to find out if what you and I have is really love? Because every ounce of fight I have in me is because of what you’ve given me.

Spike warily stared at her, alarmed by her silence. Her gaze never left his, and for the first time in Spike’s life, Spike was genuinely terrified of Buffy Summers. For the past 3 years, he could usually gauge her mood and he had always prized himself in being the type of man who was intuitive. It was a lesson he had learned early on from Angelus as they sparred. Angelus would stare him down menacingly, and with a lace of superiority. Angelus later confided that he remained victorious because William was weak. Angelus’ remark hit home and drove William the Bloody to change. From then on, Spike became the type of man who challenged rules and authority, delving into the world of darkness he feared as a mortal. He learned to rely on his passions alone, and Spike found himself to be one of the most notorious vampires to ever exist. It was the honesty that Spike pursued after his change into darkness. Spike desired the grating truth, the wholeness of life that alluded him during his mortality. His whole life had been surrounded by simpletons who didn’t have a clue about what really mattered in life. But Buffy Summers was unlike any woman he had ever met.



No amount of persuasion, or force could win Buffy over. If she masked her emotions, Spike in his grand intuition couldn’t figure her out. That could have been the first spark that attracted to him at their first encounter. Above all, he wanted to find a route to her heart, her mind, her very soul. He had waited so very long for his match, and found so many women to fall shorthandedly of what he felt he deserved. Buffy was a touch of everything, a child and woman at the same time. In her pink blouses and high heels she seemed delicate and petite, but in actuality she was more powerful than a brigade combined. Not only did she have femininity, but she loved wholeheartedly. She fought for friends, defended all that was good, and struggled to do what was right, even when it meant sacrificing her very life. Spike initially found her to be a paradox, but his feelings soon grew into admiration. When he finally acknowledged that Buffy was a living, ticking complex of *mortality*, he wanted nothing more than to take that humanity, Buffy, and revive the life back into her through his hands. He sought to become the man of vision that Drusilla foretold he would be. Spike finally found his purpose. Buffy Summers was his key. His destiny.



So when his destiny looked up at him with a spark of fear, a smidge of hope, and longing, Spike swore he felt his nonbeating heart clench.



Before he could say another word, she spoke with a tinge of desperation,

“Please tell me that we’ll make it through this fight.”



Buffy hadn’t meant to sound so vulnerable, when the words came forth from her mouth. But it seemed natural to her that she could not hide the truth from him. More importantly, she did not want to. The part of her that was the slayer was prepared for the war, but the part of her that was a girl felt otherwise. Tonight, she longed to be comforted and reassured that turning thousands of girls into slayers would not be disastrous.



Spike could not have the heart to lie to his best girl. Encouragingly, he grasped tightly at her sides and stared at her.

“I swear that I will do everything in my power to protect everyone, pet. Even those bleedin’ potentials who could never dream to be the slayer you are today.” Spike sounded satisfied with his answer and confidently stroked her arms and hoped he succeeded in offering her the comfort she needed.



“I wasn’t talking about them.”



The realization of her words dawned on him, and Spike was suddenly grateful for every obstacle he risked to fight for his soul. Because it was moments like this, with the crickets chirping happily in the Sunnydale heat, the Scooby Gang having a midnight snack above them, the slayer’s warmth radiating off her body, that the intensity of her words meant exponentially more with the possession of his soul. He was so deeply touched by her, so amazed at how this tiny girl could bring him to his knees.



After a deep sigh, Buffy bravely stated her hopes for the future. A future that included him.

“When we make it out tomorrow, we’re going to travel.” Spike stared at her dumbfoundedly and wondered what direction she was going with this.

“We’ll find a tiny place, rent an apartment near a plaza. We’ll eat gelatos until we turn green..We’ll-“

“Slayer” Spike interrupted.

“We can find a way to be happy. We’ll start new. And you have to be there. I don’t think we’ll all make it but if you and Dawn make it, we’ll make it wor-“

“Luv?” he grabbed her firmly into his embrace and held her tightly. As if it was the last night of the world.

“The only thing that matters is you, luv. Not nibblet, not the boy, not the witch and her twit of a girl, not Rupert” She stared at him with wonder at his words. He took a deep breath and continued. “God knows, I don’t do any of this for them.” With resolve that scared even Buffy, he declared his sole intention for tomorrow’s battle.

“I promise I won’t fail you tomorrow Buffy. Not ever again”

Buffy and Spike’s eyes reached an understanding and coincidently the image of a weakly built scaffold and an electrical portal appeared in hindsight. Buffy understood the pain in his eyes and understood his resolve to keep her safe. Keep her alive.



“Nothing you say will make me fail you, Buffy”.



After a hundred plus years of living in this mortal world, William thought he knew everything he wanted to know about the human race. He knew their insipid infatuation with power, their indulgence in worldly materialism, and their consuming ambition. And Spike found he always had a sarcastic and condescending comment to retort for every occasion. Still, though, there were some things that he had yet to figure out. Because when it came to her, his trademark punctuality didn’t always have the right timing.



Spike had only cried once in his entire existence. That day he had seen her crumpled form lying amidst broken rubble. Remembered with dread how her chest did not rise and fall with careful rhythm. Recalled how much he had wished he had died too, from living in a world without Buffy Summers in it. He didn’t think he had anymore tears to shed afterwards. Little did he know, that he would be moved to tears at what he witnessed next.



Buffy drew her lovely fingers to the hairpin holding her bangs, and tugged slightly, letting her straight hair cascade over her shoulders. With one graceful movement, she moved to take off her jacket and tossed the cloth to the floor effortlessly. Next, she reached for buttons on her pink striped top and shed that until she was in a rose colored bra. Spike remained silent, and Buffy took it as her cue to boldly unbutton her pants and her toned legs graciously stepped out of each pantleg. Buffy Summers stood before him in matching bra and underwear, all beauty and perfection before him. Her eyes beaming at him in the darkness. She was looking at him with a familiar expression. Spike reached into the recesses of his mind and recalled how she looked at him with understanding after Glory tortured him for hours. She seemed so utterly impressed by his resolve, moved by his courage. Glowing



Spike had once been a poet, a man of words, constantly striving to find the perfect rhyme to describe feelings, moments. And if at that second a demon appeared and offered Spike the gift of eloquency, no words existed to describe the exquisiteness that was Buffy Summers.



But another evening came to Spike’s mind. The bare flesh, the soft skin, the hollow of her throat, that crevice of her breasts. Unfortunately, that night was anything but intimate, and altogether violent. The night he had forced himself upon her, in a desperate attempt to rekindle a relationship that could never be. With shame, Spike hung his head low and closed his eyes in true anguish. For attempting to hurt her, for being so foolish into thinking that force would get it done. Angelus had told him before that force would not. How ominous, how ironic, that Angelus had told him how to get under her skin: “to love her”.



After receiving his soul, Spike found it unbearable to go on at first. Finding the heart to go back to Sunnydale, where the eastern hemisphere, nobody knew him and he could live out the rest of his days. It all had seemed so hopeless when he realized the extent of his actions, and he seemed positive that she would never reciprocate his feelings after he tried to hurt her. But one truth would always be evident: Buffy was home. She was all he knew, all he ever wanted to know. He had been sitting in various modes of transportation for two months traveling through the Indian countryside, the barren Gobi desert, and finally crossing over into the cooler winds of the Pacific on a cargo ship to come back to her. And during that time of introspection his understanding of her grew deeper. He knew now that passion in the heat of the moment was not the beginning of the kind of love he wanted to share with her. No longer would he accept her affections if they were motivated by selfish purposes as he had before. And not because he had more pride for himself, but it was more so the fact that he couldn’t have her love any other way but entirely, willingly, and honestly. And it didn’t matter if he had to wait forever till she came to admit her love for him. In Spike’s mind, he had all the time in the world to love Buffy Summers. An eternity.



With strained composure, he turned to the thin sheet on the mattress and swung it around Buffy’s shoulders to keep her warm in the chilly air.



“I don’t understand” she sighed breathlessly as she felt him rub her arms to stimulate warmth. “Don’t you want this? Want me?”



It was hard for Spike to explain how painfully true her words were. How long had he daydreamed of touching her this way, of her inviting hands, enticing him to have the very thing he traveled the world and back for, to earn the love of this one woman. It was so clear, there was nothing else he loved more in his entire existence then this tiny slayer. Loved her so much that the once great feared William the Bloody would sleep in a musky basement next to appliances and broken plumbing fixtures just to be in her presence. Loved her so whole heartedly that a room full of potential slayers did not have to fear for their lives in his presence. Loved her so truly, that when achieving a soul seemed the only way to her, he gave up all that he knew for a meaningful connection with a girl that would probably be in love with his poof of a sire till the Scooby Gang was dust in their graves. All of these things did not matter to him. Because in the ultimate scheme of things, when Spike fell, when William fell truly in love, he was alarmingly devoted. And his dedication to Drusilla was just the tip of the iceberg compared to what he would do for this girl.



It was so strange that he never felt whole than when she was completely open to him and things never felt so right for her when she confided her deepest secrets to him. The intimacy between them was so palpable, Spike thought he would break in half from being so close to her soul. To this woman.



“I’ve never wanted anything more, luv.” She seemed relieved at his admission, and he pensively tried to hold his tears back.



He didn’t have the heart to tell her what really lay in his mind. Because he wasn’t daft. He read all the tell tale signs of where their relationship had been going since he returned from Africa. At first, her behavior was limited to concern. As their rocky relationship continued, they found subtle excuses to be near each other whether it was patrolling with the potentials, or running off to find an errand, sometimes even going downstairs to do laundry that didn’t really need washing. That night after the debacle with the Principal and Giles, he couldn’t tell her that he was completely caught off guard when she came downstairs with a fleece blanket in her arms for him. She stared at him as if he was going to disappear, afraid her protector would vanish into thin air. After witnessing the extent of Giles’ hatred for him, she had chosen her alliance. He was the man in her life now. Spike looked up at her initially with confusion, but when she slipped her shoes off and climbed into the tiny cot with him, he did not refuse her. Could not refuse her. He instinctively tossed his arm around her and embraced her and she snuggled her face into his neck. And when the entire house turned their backs on her, he had overheard the potentials and Rona clamoring about her ‘obsession’ with him and how she always turned to him to clean up her mess. He was alarmed that she possessed the audacity to publicly acknowledge his faith in her. Things were becoming all so clear to everyone but her: she was falling in love with him.



And that was why, he could not give into his emotions. Not even when it could be the last night of his life. Not even for her. Because he knew all too well how Buffy loved. Had always dreamed sensationally of being on the other side of her affections. But now, at the cusp of being so very dear to her, he could not let her feelings for him become the deciding factor of whether she lived or died. With a hint of resentment, and more willpower, he forced his ebbing desire to embrace her and lose himself in her aside. Because if Buffy realized tonight that she loved him, she would not dare leave him in tomorrow’s battle.



Finally, not being able to reciprocate the love she was beginning to reveal tore at Spike’s heart. It was the most noble and heartbreaking moment of his life.



He opted to push his weakness aside for her. Always for her. So that she could live.



“The old Spike in me would be none the happier to take you up on your offer. I dream of you this way all the time.” Spike admitted bashfully. “But there’s something I dream about more, and that’s you and me taking our time, not rushing into this. I understand that the end of the world could be tomorrow and all, but…the last thing I want is to hurt you again because we’re hurried”


Buffy felt so many emotions running rampant in her body. He was turning her down because he wanted more time from her. Even knowing there was no more to be had. He was effectively rejecting their physical coupling because he wanted to do things the right way. Buffy literally shivered at the man he had become. He was beginning to touch her in all the ways she knew she hadn’t been touched before. She felt herself become flush and she felt so achingly close to a crevice at which she was going to spill over. What lay beyond that crevice was him. Falling didn’t seem like such a big obstacle…



“That’s why, if things get sticky down there luv, don’t go off bein’ the heroine, alright? Let me save you, for once” It’s my turn.



Buffy felt sick at his words. Did he know something that she did not? Knew that he was not going to make it? Afterall, he did stare at the amulet like there was some sort of secret in it. There was only one way of knowing, to ask him.



There were no secrets between them, Buffy took full advantage of his inability to betray her. Bathed in the scent of him wrapped in his sheet, she asked her lover for the truth.



“Is there something you’re not telling me about the amulet?” She asked with trepidation.



“Not an inkling in hell what it’s supposed to do, Slayer. Just want you safe, s’all.” he lied. And Spike hadn’t deceived her once since his return from Africa, until now. He couldn’t tell her that the bloody trinket was winking at him as though it was promising his demise. Afterall, Spike knew that lucky breaks didn’t just come out of nowhere, especially when delivered personally to the CEO of Wolfram and Hart. What a soddin’ wanker Spike thought. Risking me instead of himself. But were he and Angel so really different? He would never let Buffy wear the damn thing in a million years, and would have given it to the one person he despised. Woulda done the same bloody thing to you Spike smirked. Cheap shot you bastard. See you in hell, Angelus.



His thoughts instinctively turned back to the moment with his only girl. All thoughts of Angel flew from his mind, as Spike realized Buffy was staring at him expectantly.



Thankfully, she did not press the issue of his statement further.



“Then can we just pretend that you’re not a vampire and I’m not the slayer?” A slight pang of guilt crossed Spike, but he swallowed it down, knowing ultimately it was for the best. So that she wouldn’t be worried about him during the fight. She had enough to occupy her thoughts.



He guided her gently to the mattress. But before she sat, she pulled at his black shirt in a gesture to take it off. Assuming she didn’t want to be the only one in her undergarments, he too took off all of his clothing until he was naked in front of her except for his black boxers. He sat towards the inside of the cot, on his usual spot and lifted the extra sheet and made room for her.



Spike stroked her comfortingly, not wanting to push her or coddle her. After minutes of silence she began to ask him questions about his life before his change. She asked for humiliating stories, where he had been, and what life had been like for him in the 1800’s. He admitted he had been a poet, a bad one at that and had told her he hated violence. She giggled at him with disbelief, and he couldn’t fathom the immense joy he felt at hearing her laughter. He never told her that she was the one person he had met, who was honestly curious with William Pratt, not William the Bloody. He didn’t think it was possible, but Buffy Summers had him even more tightly woune around her finger.



If they tried hard enough, they could fool themselves into believing that they were just another ordinary couple having sweet pillow talk throughout the night.



It was the happiest Buffy and Spike had ever been.

***

The night sky became lighter and lighter as dawn approached. Buffy glanced up through the tiny window in the basement watching the night slowly creep away to lighter shades of blue by the second. The birds were not chirping, the sprinklers didn’t turn on, the hum of the drier had given out when the power company skipped town. The house was completely silent. All that she could hear was her steady breathing, and she glanced up to see if Spike was also thinking how eerily quiet it was for the bloodshed that was to follow. What she saw in his eyes, was no surprise.



There were times he stared at her, made her feel like she was the only girl he ever looked at. His blue eyes boring into her, arising emotions in her that she hadn’t felt for a long time: respected, adored, worshipped, loved.



The fight was imminent, and not for the first time in her life, she cursed the unknown, what lay ahead of them. Most of all, she cursed not having enough time.



Without meaning to, she shivered in apprehension and her grasp on his arm became tighter.

“It’s coming” She stated blankly. “You’re going to be careful with the amulet right? Not gonna do anything we’d regret?” They hadn’t argued a bit today. Spike knew how seriously she was taking this to heart.



“I should wear jewelry more often, pet. Makes you all nostalgic for me doesn’t it?” He said with a sly smirk, trying to ease her mood. She ignored his flirtatious advances, concentrating on his survival.



“You have to promise me that you’ll survive. Somehow, someway…Spike. You’re still a part of my team. ” Team, the word sounded so distant. She caught herself and amended her words.



“A part of me.” She lovingly affirmed as she placed grabbed his hand and put it against her breast. He was instantly warm again. How did she always manage to do that?



Spike did all that he could to feign the intense pain with his admission.

“I will never be far from you, Buffy. No matter what happens today, I- “ he realized that that admission was dangerous ground. He musn’t let her tip over the edge into the oblivion that was love. Save the girl, William. Be her hero.



“This soul, everything…was for you. And I know that there’s not a lot of things slayers can keep for themselves, short life span and all. But what I did…you can tell the whole world it was yours. I’m yours.”



And I’m going to free you today, pet.

He knew so well, that whatever the outcome of today’s fight with the First, she could not stay in Sunnydale. So many girls would be needing her guidance after today, and he secretly feared there would be no room for him in her future. He was unaware that if he had asked her right now, as they lay in the tiny cot tangled with each other, what he meant to her, that she would say “you’re everything” and tell him the operation just couldn’t be the same without her blonde champion.



Everything Spike boiled down to, his intuition, his swagger, his brains, his intelligence, his hot temper, his drive: he was going to give everything to Buffy so that she could soar. Far from the hellmouth, release her into the world so that she could have the new life he knew she so desperately wanted and deserved.

So that you can be my bird. Show ‘em you’re my girl.

At his declaration, Buffy’s emotions boiled to a high pitch and something suddenly familiar boiled within her. A feeling she had only felt with a certain brooding vampire so long ago. She wanted to kiss him. Really kiss him. Not in the shallow way that she had so many times before, but this time with innocent desire to share something pure with him. As she held him to her, she came so dangerously close to tasting his lips; Spike could only stare at her with wonder. A year of longing glances, of suggestive body language. And yet no physicality…as if they were afraid of burning each other into cinders with their love. No, neither of them could risk breaking each others’ hearts again.



Buffy dared to try.



Before an abrupt knock on the basement door interrupted her.



Faith’s words could be heard obnoxiously through the door “Enough with the screwin’, B! If my ass is up at this hour, yours better be too!”



Spike and Buffy looked down disappointedly at the intrusion. She looked up at him once again and snuggled further into his embrace. Another moment swept away by their circumstances.



Spike realized this would probably be the last moment they had before he left her for good. Six years of knowing her, walking in and out for three, and staying devotedly for the later half, it was finally coming to an end. There was a right way of going about it, and the wrong way.



The heartfelt way went something like I’ll never forget you. Always gonna miss you. Miss seein you in your new coats and your pointy sticks, kickin’ demon ass….Crave your scent around me, miss watching you dance as if I’m not watching you. Gonna want your heat when it’s cold and I’m thinkin’ about you for the millionth time. Wanna feel your soft hair under my fingertips, reminds me of my only home since I was alive with mum. Going to want your strength, I’m not gonna have any bleedin’ left after I give everythin’ I got to you….I love you so much, Buffy.



He opted for the right way, the safe way. “It’s showtime, Slayer. Let’s show ‘em what you’re made of.”

***

It was a good thing he fooled her into thinking he didn’t have a clue about the power of the amulet. “Not to be a buzzkill, luv, but my fabulous accessory isn’t exactly tingling with power.”

Wrong, so very wrong. Bloody hell, she’d kill you if she knew what you were trying to pull. It doesn’t matter he rationalized. Get it done. For her.

So when the amulet stunned him into place, and the most brilliant light struck him against the stone pillar, he knew now his number was up.

“Go on then!” Please Buffy don’t make this harder than it already is. Just go, darlin’.

Buffy interjected desperately. “You’ve done enough, you can still — “

“No. You beat ’em back, it’s for me to do the clean up.” You’ve got to go.

“Buffy! Come on!” Faith shouted out in concern. Spike mentally thanked the girl for bringing Buffy back into perspective.

“Gotta move, lamb. I think it’s fair to say school’s out for the bloody summer.” Bigger chunks of earth were cascading down the cavern.

“Spike...” She was wavering in her decisiveness. He could tell, her hesitation. No, he was failing her. Not again, please no. Can’t stand to watch her die.

“I mean it. I gotta do this.” Throw up your hand, girl will know this is for real.

Buffy sees him now. With clarity. So much clearer than she ever did before. Suddenly, all the pain they went through together fades away, and it is just them. The earth doesn’t crumble. Time stops ticking for these two heroes. Instead she thanks the god that gives them this fraction of time to relate. Because she wants to hold it in her heart forever. So that she can look back on it, and be reminded of her lover when he cannot be there to back her up. I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay here with you. We were supposed to make it together. What if, Spike? What if?

She lifts her left hand against his, feel the size, the shape for one last time. He slowly curls his fingers over hers. A moment, and both hands burst into flames. They were so bright together, the amulet aflaming everything pure and good inside of him. His soul may have stung, but the evidence of their loved burned. It seemed so simple now. All those times she made it confusing. She needed a heroic moment like this to come to terms with her feelings for him?

They were so afraid of burning each other with words. No need, for words, with a connection like this.

Strong hands, protecting her always. Even now when the gang abandoned him. She realized she could not go, not without him knowing. And suddenly she was pressed with the urge to tell him, everything. There just weren’t enough words…ever. I am in love with you, I have been for awhile now. Love that smell of you- soap, smoke, and alcohol, your swagger, the way you look at me. The way you don’t give up on me. What you do, how you understand. How you never leave me. The way I trust you with my heart. My life. I’m sorry I only got it now…Please, don’t leave me now.

It was suddenly so important for her to be delicate. Let yourself have this moment, to tell him how much you care for him. Comfort him.

Remember it forever.

“I love you.”

Spike’s soul soared with euphoria.

Would he give in and acknowledge their mutual love for one another and possibly risk her staying here, or would he deny her so that she could live? It seemed so tempting, especially at his final minute, to bare the truth of his feelings for her. So selfish, so easy to take the pleasure and wrap it around his heart to soothe him as he disintegrated. Tempted at the thought of telling her what he really wanted to say, he was reminded of the heartache of seeing her long hair and limp body on the broken concrete. His words from last night echoed in his mind,

“Nothing you say will make me fail you, Buffy”. Not even the most precious words conceived in the English language would do him in. ‘I love you’ from the girl of his dreams would have struck him down cold. It nearly did. This time, he did not budge.

Hold on for just a little longer, you ponce. Show her one more time how much you love her. He would have shown her infinitely more if he could. He wouldn’t be around to do that though.

He realized sullenly that he would be a memory to her. Will you remember me? Will you ever think about me from time to time? I’ll be with you always…

The tumbling cavern brought him back. He hoped she would forgive him that his final words would cut her and cause her to question whether he really believed that she loved him.

“No you don’t. But thanks for saying it.” Spike choked out.

Remember my actions, not my words Buffy. At that, he forcibly pushed her hand from his. Go on baby, before they get you.

“It’s your world up there. Now GO!” The slayers, the Scooby gang, Dawn. There are others that need you, he reminded her. The girls all over the world are waiting for you.

Buffy wanted to say more, but there just wasn’t enough time. His last wish was to see her go. She realizes now that the moment has passed. Their moment has passed. She blinks back the tears and passes by him without looking back. Her heart aching and clenching with every step as she puts more distance between them.

It’s over now. Over. Buffy wanted to break into infinite pieces at the finality of it all. She grasped at the scythe, running toward the day. Determination flowing through her body. Toward the light, where Spike wanted her.

“I wanna see how it ends.” He says with cockiness. The end he referred to was not the smashing stones falling at his side, or the blinding light eminating from his chest. The end he pictured, never looked so sweet. The end was a petite slayer with green eyes and blonde hair.



In his mind, a flash of all the moments he shared with her played before him:



warm hand against his cheek



pink toenails peeking from beneath his duvet covers



the scent of vanilla after a shower



blinding orange suit and a ridiculous hat…still the sexiest girl he had ever seen



a strong left hook after yet another argument



a soft yet muscular frame…the curve of her hips, the nape of her neck…



a swan dive into a portal



the first time he saw her dancing at the Bronze…true desire



squeezing her hands in trust



sexual satisfaction…like no one else could ever give him



heated glances shared from across a room full of potentials



Synchronization during the fight…teamwork…partnership



Warmth, hot, heat, oblivion….the most beautiful girl in the world breaking into delicious freedom in his arms



“I believe in you, Spike”

“It’s always got to be blood”

“I just wanted it to stop”

“I think I was in heaven”

“It’s still about you”

“You can make me feel like it isn’t so…”

“Stop, please Spike!”

“Every night I save you”

“You always hurt the one you love”

“Blood screaming inside you to do it’s will”

“You treat me like a man”

“To be hers”

“Were you there with me?”… “I was”



…Champion, she said…



His last thoughts before everything faded away…



His golden girl.



Finally. After so long, she said it. “I love you”.



He felt like crying, struck now at the gravity of the end, the beauty of his death.



Before his body succumbed into thin air, he caught the vision of her smiling sweetly at him, in the sun. Far from Sunnydale.



Spike. William Pratt laughed in triumph in the face of the First evil.



Goodbye, luv.


Chapter End Notes:
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