"Grief is perhaps an unknown territory for you. You might feel both helpless and hopeless without a sense of a "map" for the journey. Confusion is the hallmark of a transition. To rebuild both your inner and outer world is a major project." - Anne Grant
The clearing in the forest was dark. It was unusually dark, even. There were no stars; they were hidden by a gray cloud covering that seemed almost too depressed to even threaten rain. It should have been bright, really. Usually was when the sky was overcast like this, when the moonlight reflected everywhere from behind the clouds… but there didn't appear to be a moon tonight either. Maybe it was sad just like everything else. Maybe it was in mourning.
Besides the low and quiet howl of the wind, the clearing was silent. No one breathed, no one cried, and it was completely empty of a living soul...
Spike kneeled silently in front of the one thing that could make his blood run colder; the one thing that hurt him enough to make him feel like he was alive. The thing that he had once dreamed of, wished for, fought for... but now had nightmares over. The thing he wished with every atom of his being didn't exist. Yet he didn't move. Here he stayed. Here he continued to kneel...
In front of Buffy's gravestone.
Spike lifted his arm and ran his hand along the smooth surface of the stone. He traced the letters with his fingers... then let his hand fall away from them. He smiled slightly as his eyes started to water a little.
"It's me, love." He said. "I, uh... figured you could use the company." He laughed shortly. "Well, that's an understatement, isn't it? You could probably use quite a few things. Fresh air and exercise being among them. I was only able to take care of the company part." He paused, staring at the stone for a moment. "I know that I probably don't rank high on your list of top ten choices for visitors... but I figure you are in no position to tell me to leave or beat me up or anything - and I haven't taken full advantage of that yet. I have a few things to talk to you about, and I know you can't talk back, but you can just listen for a while...
"I don't know if you noticed or not, but the last time I was here, I was more in to the ripping grass out of the ground and yelling than I was in to sitting down and talking. I uh... I stayed away for a while. I think it was for the best. Not that I think you missed me or anything, but..."
He shrugged, then took a deep and pointless breath. He wasn't exactly sure why he was doing this. He felt more than just a little stupid sitting here in the dark, talking to a slab of rock that had no thoughts or feelings and therefore couldn't care about what he was saying. He hated this damn thing, hated everything is stood for. Everything it meant, but he kept talking anyway.
"Not that ripping things a part isn't tickle, but I prefer the things I rip apart to bleed and scream and hurt worse than I do."
He suddenly remembered something, and began rummaging around in his pocket. He pulled out a picture of Dawn blowing out the candles at her 15th birthday party, and placed it at the base of the headstone.
"She didn't want to have a party at first, but your pals convinced her that they should do things the way they always have. I think it was good for her. I've been watching out for her, but I'm sure you won't be surprised when I tell you I'm not very good with kids. I can't be the friend to her she needs, I can only be her protector... and the rest of them have been working on some kind of project all summer. I think she kind of feels lost in the shuffle. She needed that party. She needs something more than what we can give her." He paused. "But I promise I'll watch out for her for the rest of her life. Just like I told you. 'Til the end of the world."
A beat.
"She's more like you everyday. It's kind of scary. I wish you were here to see it. You might have been amused by bitty you. Should have stuck around a little longer, Slayer. You might have been amused by a lot of things. I fight on your side now, for one thing. Every night along side the brat pack. Wasn't my idea, but it keeps me near Dawn and I get to kill things, so it's not the worst thing I could be doing with my time. Still, I bet you never thought you'd live to see the day..." He creased his forehead. "Well, okay, you didn't live to see the day. But I never thought I'd live to see the day, and I'm going to live forever." He paused, feeling awkward. "Gatoraid's got a new color. Blue."
He swallowed, running his hand over his hair, feeling the familiar heartache sweep in through his chest and grab hold.
"But mostly things are just the way you left them. Maybe we did that on purpose. I've killed plenty of people whose families kept their rooms untouched for years after they were dead. Maybe that's what we're doing here. Keeping things the way they were when you touched them last. Fighting to keep the status quo, but not to gain the upper hand. Cleaning, but not rearranging."
He took another deep breath that he was all too aware he didn't need, but he took it anyway, shaking off his feelings of absurdity.
"I still love you." He said. "And God, I still miss you. Every day when I'm trying to sleep, and every night when I'm trying to kill, you're here in my head and my heart. I'm in love with you, Buffy, and it's not because I'm twisted or any other reason you or any of your scooby mates ever came up with to explain my feelings away. I don't know how or why, especially why, but I do love you. You're gone, but I can't stop needing you. I know it sounds right properly insane, but I love you with my soul – where ever the hell it is. I miss you so much I'm afraid it might kill me. And I know I have no right to miss you because it's my fault you're gone, but I've never been one to not do something just because I'm not supposed to. Loving you obviously would be one of those things."
Another pause.
"I don't know if you can hear me, or if I'm just talking to a mound of dirt and grass, but I just want you to know that I would have given my whole existence for you if Glory would have given me half the chance. I'd have given more. I swear, for whatever it's worth, I'll do the same for Dawn. I let you down when it really counted, but I wont let you down again. I've dreamt of it every day since it happened, and I haven't let you down once.
"And you can keep that picture. I nicked it anyway. Doesn't belong with me." He nodded and looked around, then back at the stone. Images of him and Buffy sweaty, exhausted, and happily entwined in each other came to the surface of Spike's thoughts. Her soft voice telling him she loved him. These images, these ideas, they were torture. They would never happen now. They couldn't happen. Not that they had a chance of happening when Buffy was still alive, but now the fantasy wasn't even comforting. It was as cold and lifeless as he was.
"I don't think I'll be coming back here, Love." He said, then laughed with a shake of his head. "You're not here, are you? You're gone and I'm a git, and this is… pointless."
He stood up and turned around.
"Spike?" A soft voice came from the darkness, and then out stepped Willow from the trees. Perhaps, had Spike been alive, he might have blushed. As it was, he was embarrassed at the thought that the witch could have heard any little bit of his poncy soliloquy.
"Fancy running in to you here." He said with a tilt of his head and a furrow in his forehead. Best to just play it off then. Willow smiled a small, awkward sort of smile and waved.
"Yeah, hi..." She said. "We kind of need your help - with some of your friends." She stopped. "I mean, not your friends, but-" Spike waved her off with an impatient gesture and nodded.
"It's fine." He said with a roll of his eyes. Somehow if it was dead or nasty, it was his friend. "I know what you mean."
"Up for it?" The redhead asked. Spike stood still for a moment, then he looked at Buffy's grave again for a moment. He turned back to Willow.
"Sure, why not? Not like I have anything better to kill." He answered, and started walking toward Willow. "Let's go save the bloody world." He mumbled as he passed her. Willow stayed where she was for a moment.
If Spike could have seen her just then, he would have seen Willow look upon Buffy's grave and smile to herself.
Then he would have heard her tell Buffy that she would see her soon.
But he didn't see or hear any of that. Even if he had, he wouldn't have understood it. Buffy was gone, and he was alone in a world that hated him, a world that he hated back. He'd keep fighting, keep protecting Dawn, and keep being uselessly useful as though Buffy could see him and she approved. Because maybe she could hear him. Maybe she could see him.
Small consolation though… Because where ever Buffy was, it sure as hell wasn't here.