Buffy awoke to the sound of the alarm, her head pillowed on Spike's chest, one arm draped around his waist, and her leg thrown over his. Spike's arm was around her shoulder, so she couldn't move without waking him.
Spike stirred, grumbling something about ''bloody alarms," and reached out with his free hand to turn it off. Then he turned on his side, pulling her with him.
"Morning, love. Did you sleep well?" he asked, kissing her forehead.
She nuzzled her cheek against his chest and stifled a yawn. "I did. I can't remember the last time I slept so well."
Spike tipped her chin to meet his eyes. "Me either. I loved waking up to you. I'd forgotten how amazing it was. I want to thank you for last night. I don't think I could have managed it here alone. Everywhere I look, I see reminders of her, but when you're here it makes things tolerable. You make me forget for a few moments sometimes."
Buffy ran her fingers through his tousled curls. "I loved waking up with you too. You don't have to thank me. I wanted to be here—with you. I think we've been able to comfort each other. I can't be here without thinking about her either, so I can't begin to imagine what it must be like for you."
She moved her hand to cup his cheek as she continued. "I'm so sorry, Will. Those words just seem so hollow and inadequate, but I don't know what else to say. I promise to help you get through this any way I can. I…I care about you too, and I hate to see you in pain. I just want to make things better for you," she said, placing a soft kiss on his lips.
He pulled her closer. "Love, that means more to me than you know. Did you notice you called me Will? I don't think you've called me that since I changed my name during my punk rebellion phase and it just sort of stuck. I remember you refused to call me Spike for a long while, but you finally came around. I like hearing you say it though. It's nice. It feels intimate."
A little smile crossed Buffy's lips and a faint blush tinged her cheeks.
"I like it too. Maybe it's the room," she said, rubbing random patterns on his chest. "I couldn't begin to count the nights I've spent with you in this room as a child, when you still had twin beds and would let me crawl in bed with you because I was afraid of the dark or worried about something. I don't know what I would have done without you and Anne. You gave me so much."
"Poor lamb, Mum always had enough love for the both of us, and I was happy to have you here, even when we fought. Though I don't remember us fighting very much. Do you?"
Buffy sat up and met his gaze. "No, I think we got along pretty well for a five-year-old boy and girl. You know what though? It's time for us to get up and face the music. Do you want the shower first, while I start breakfast?"
She put her head back on his chest, awaiting his reply.
"No, you go first, and I'll start breakfast. It'll take you longer to get dressed than me." He tapped her on the shoulder, and when she looked up he gave her a quick kiss and said, "Up you go, kitten! I've got breakfast to make."
Buffy seemed surprised by his almost chipper attitude.
Spike watched her gather her things and head into the bathroom. "Don't take too long or your eggs will get cold."
He was so grateful she was there to guide him through these murky waters. He knew today was going to be rough, but just knowing she was with him, gave him strength.
Who knew what the rest of the day would hold.
When she came down, she was still wearing her pajamas and her hair was wet.
"I didn't want risk getting food on my dress, and I thought I could dry my hair while you were in the shower," she said, taking a seat at the table as he handed her a cup of coffee.
"I hope you don't mind." He flipped an omelet onto a plate. "The butter, toast, and jams are there on the table." He put the plate down in front of her and kissed the top of her head. "Eat up," he said, before taking a seat beside her.
Once breakfast was done and the dishes cleared away, they went back upstairs to get dressed. Spike went to shower, while Buffy dried her hair, applied her make-up and dressed in the bedroom.
Buffy was putting her earrings on when Spike came of out the bathroom, buttoning his trousers. His shirt still unbuttoned and his tie was around his neck.
He saw her in the mirror and was taken aback by how beautiful she looked in her black wrapdress. Her honey blonde hair fell in loose waves and her make-up was light. She was a vision. He went to her and put his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. "You look beautiful," he whispered in the shell of her ear. "I have some things I need to give you.
Buffy turned to stare at him.
Spike went to his bedside table and retrieved a small velvet pouch, emptying the contents in his hand. "These are yours now."
Buffy walked to him on unsteady feet and peered into his hand. "I…I don't know about this. I somehow feel like I'm disrespecting her by wearing her things to her funeral," she said, wringing her hands and looking away.
Spike caught her chin and brought her gaze back to his. "Love, you're not disrespecting her or her memory. She asked me in my letter to make sure you had them, and you should wear them. They're yours now."
"Are you sure about this? Especially, the ring…I mean it's been in your family for like three generations!" Buffy's eyes were wide as she gestured to his hand.
"I'm positive. I think Mum made the perfect decision. I agree with her whole-heartedly," he said pulling her into the safety of his arms. "Now is everything all right?"
"Yes, I'm sorry for being so weird about it, but it just threw me a bit. I'll be proud to wear them." She pulled back and gave him a watery smile.
Spike held her right hand and slid the beautiful, two-carat, emerald-cut ruby and diamond ring on her ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Next, she turned and held up her hair for him to fasten the small bee charm pendant. He took her to the mirror to show her how it looked.
"See. It looks lovely on you," he said. The sparkling silver was a beautiful yet understated contrast to her black dress and tan skin.
Buffy turned and kissed him softly. "Thank you. Now let's get you ready," she said, as she began to button his shirt. When it came time to tie his tie she said, "You're on your own here. I'm afraid I've never done this before."
"No worries. I think I can handle it. You can watch for future reference if you want."
She watched intently, and when he was done she helped him straighten it. The sapphire tie made his eyes seem a deeper shade of blue, almost like a stormy sea.
He donned his suit jacket and asked if she was ready. For a moment she was awestruck by just how handsome he was. She'd never seen him in a suit before. He cleans up well! She thought.
"Yes, I'll drive," Buffy said, grabbing her clutch and keys. "I think it might be easier if I did."
"That's fine. Let's go." He took her hand as they walked out the room.
Once at the church they were ushered into a room at the front sanctuary until time for the service to begin. The priest came back to assure them that everything was in place and let them know people had begun to arrive. He said someone would come to retrieve them when it was time for the service to begin.
Spike sat uncharacteristically quiet in the small room with Buffy beside him.
"Spike, is there anything I can do make this better for you right now?" Buffy squeezed his hand.
She could see by the blank expression on his face that this was becoming a reality for him now. The full magnitude of what had happened was finally hitting him. He really was sitting in this room, waiting for his mother's funeral to start.
Suddenly his expression changed. His eyes widened, his mouth opened, but no sound came until he looked at Buffy and whispered, "Oh my God, my Mum is really gone! What am I going to do without her?"
He began to weep in earnest, loud, pitiful sobs.
"Shh, I'm here," Buffy said, taking him in her arms. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I wish there was a way to make it better, but there's not. I can only promise you that I will be with you through this."
She opened her clutch and handed him a tissue, which he gratefully accepted.
"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I hope I didn't get snot on your dress."
Buffy smiled at his lame attempt at humor. "No, my dress is fine, and it wouldn't matter if you did."
"Thank you. I know I keep saying it, but I truly mean it, and there's no telling where I'd be right now if it weren't for you."
"You really do have to stop saying that, mister. It's getting old, and you'd be fine. You're a strong man. I have faith in you. I'm honored to be here with you, and there's no place else I'd rather be than by your side right now."
Someone knocked on the door, and Buffy answered. One of the vestry members told her it was time. She looked at Spike and he nodded, grasping her hand. They walked out into the vestibule and proceeded down the aisle toward the front of the church, Spike keeping his head down. Buffy noticed on the way in that the church was packed full of people. Once they arrived at their appointed seats they sat, Buffy putting her other hand over the hand he was holding.
At the front of the church was single arrangement of salmon colored calla lilies, the mahogany box containing Anne's remains, and silver picture frame holding a photo of her. Before the priest began the actual service, he took a few moments for the eulogy.
"Anne Jameson was a beloved member of our parish for twenty-four years. She was a loving mother and a devoted friend. She could always be counted on when needed. For twenty-three years, she saw to the health and well-being of residents of Pinecrest Retirement Home, and after her retirement she volunteered weekly at our soup kitchen for the homeless and underprivileged. Her son, William, requested I read this poem by Christina Rossetti entitled 'Remember Me When I Am Gone'"
Remember me when I am gone away.
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand.
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me: you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had.
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than you should remember and be sad.
Spike and Buffy held onto one another and wept quietly throughout the proceedings. When the service was over, someone from the vestry led them to the back of the church so the other mourners could pay their respects on the way out.
Familiar faces and others unknown greeted Spike, but they had one thing in common. Anne had touched all their lives in some way. Buffy never left his side.
Joyce was the last to offer her condolences. Buffy needed to talk to her about the arrangements for the wake at the house, so she asked Spike to speak with the priest and see if there was anything further to do. He kissed her cheek and headed toward the front of the church.
Buffy stopped short. She was startled by the angry scowl on Joyce's face.
"Mom, what's the matter?"
"How can you even ask me that? I thought I taught you better than to be so tactless! Wearing Anne's things! And to her funeral for heaven's sake! What gives you the right to do something like that?"
Buffy's temperature rose as her mother spoke to her. You thought you taught me to have more tact! That's rich. You'd have actually had to have been there to teach.
"Anne willed them to me and requested I wear them. I'm honoring her wishes, and if you think that's being tactless, I really don't give a damn!" she said, as she took Joyce's arm and pulled her to the side. "This is incredibly difficult for Spike, and if you can't act like a grown-up, then you don't need to come to the house. Just tell me what I need to know about the caterers."
Joyce was seething now. Her jaw was clenched, and she was speaking a little too loudly, while wagging her finger at Buffy. "Oh no, I don't think so. You can't keep me away. I see what you're trying to do, but it won't work. He left you eleven years ago. What makes you think he's going to stay now?"
Buffy stood rigid, her cheeks blazing with heat and tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
Just then Spike walked up. "Kitten, what's the matter?"
Before Buffy could answer, Joyce spoke in an overly kind voice, "William, it was such a lovely service. Buffy and I were just going over the catering arrangements. She's not too happy about some of the choices I made, but everything will work out. Won't it, sweetheart?" She looked pointedly at Buffy.
"Sure everything will be fine, Mom. We'll see you at the house." Buffy looked at Spike wearily.
"All right, I'll see you there," Joyce said.
Buffy stepped up to him and put her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder to hide the tears that were threatening to spill. "Hey. How are you holding up?"
"I'm doing all right at the moment. You're the one I'm worried about. What was that about? Because I know it wasn't the catering." He hugged her to him and kissed the top of her head.
"I really don't wanna talk about it right now. There'll be people at the house soon, so we need to go. I promise to tell you everything later." She gazed up at him, hoping he would agree.
His lips grazed hers and he said, "Let's get out of here."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to my betas, Abby, Dawnofme,and Diebirchen. Thanks to Tanit for the banner.