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Summary: Another late night visit to a lost lover (Six Months Later)

Edward Hubbard is somewhat flustered to see his lovely blonde visitor without her faithful shadow. He quietly steps out onto the covered porch admiring the seemingly ethereal way she glides along the rocky uneven path. Never before has a woman, not even his beloved Cora, been as graceful or radiant while heavy with child. Just before sunset he’d ventured into her corner and set out a cushioned wicker chair and matching table along with a thermos of hot chocolate. The nights were growing colder and the damp grass was no place for a lady to sit.

She offers a kind smile and a small wave when she passes, the simple gesture warming Hubbard’s worn heart. Several seconds later, her white-haired shadow jogs up the path wiping a fine coating of dust off his hands and slipping a stake into the back of his jeans. His scowl deepens when his eyes fall on the blonde and her jacket… or lack thereof. Chuckling to himself, Hubbard nods in greeting and returns to the warmth of his small house.



Buffy’s eyes light up when she spots the chair and small table. The night before, it took nearly fifteen minutes for the feeling to return to her legs after an hour spent on the ground. After moving the chair to her desired location, she lets out a contented moan as she sinks onto the soft cushion. The thermos’ temptation is more than the slayer can handle. Not caring that her bladder will have her racing for a bathroom in the near future, she sniffs the fragrant liquid and takes a hesitant sip.

Comfortable and warm, Buffy’s attention turns to the empty grave in front of her. She’d been avoiding him for over a week, but it was time to stop procrastinating. There were things that needed to be said before she could feel any closure.

“Of all the people in my life you were one of the few constants. Predictable, unchanging, immortal you. Somewhere along the way I forgot that immortal doesn’t always mean invincible. Maybe you forgot, too. In some ways you were the most fragile one of all.

Champion. I really hate that word, hate what it’s come to mean. Especially for slayers and vampires with souls. Why don’t they just change it to monumentally stupid? That’s what it means, isn’t it? You become a champion and suddenly it’s great fun to be horribly outnumbered and out of ideas. Yeah, yeah, I know me kettle you pot. Those who swan dive into portals shouldn’t throw stones and all that.

I used to wis – scratch that. I used to wonder what my life would be like if I’d never met you. If you’d never come along and messed with my mind, made me doubt myself and turned my black and white world into one big shade of gray. Of course it was only gray when you wanted it to be, right? All that soul versus no soul talk was just a load of crap. I never really understood the difference until after you left. Having a soul didn’t always make you right and it didn’t keep you from breaking my heart.

I hate the way my relationship with you affected the way I viewed others. I hate that you lied to me about him. One less vampire with a soul. Why couldn’t you have just said ‘Hey Buff, guess what, I’m human?’ I know he wanted you to keep it a secret, but since when are you two best buddies? I had a right to know. Your petty, stupid jealousy might have ruined everything.

I hate how things ended with us. I may still be chosen, but I’m no longer the only one. I don’t have to live my life apocalypse to apocalypse anymore. You wanted me to live, didn’t you? So why do you get so mad when I finally start? Who cares if it happens to be with another vampire? I’m happy and that’s all that should matter. Which reminds me of something. I don’t appreciate being treated like a prize in your stupid testosterone tug of war. What do I mean? Come on, I’ve seen fourth-graders with more maturity. You’re both thickheaded obnoxious… men. Ugh.

What I’m really trying to say is I love you. Part of me always will. But I’m not in love you anymore and honestly, I haven’t been for a while. Times changed… I changed. I’m not the perfect little slayer and you’re not the glorious unshakable champion. There was no happy ending to that story. I see all your flaws but you were never willing to see mine. I can’t be perfect for you and you shouldn’t expect me to be. It’s a shame we never could work it out. I’d like to think we could have been friends but who knows. Maybe there was just too much pain and heartbreak between us.

I’m glad we could talk. It was nice, you know, without all the accusations and yelling. Take care of yourself. We miss you.”

Bracing herself with the arms of the chair, Buffy precariously rises to her feet. She bends down and presses a gentle kiss on the headstone, pretending for a moment that the cool marble was a familiar set of cold lips. With a heavy sigh and lighter heart she turns on her heel and heads back down the path.

Stepping out from underneath the cover of an old tree, Spike tosses his cigarette butt on the ground then glares at the stone and the engraved words. “He died a hero,” he quotes, shaking his head in disgust. He moves closer until he’s standing over the empty plot. “Ha bloody ha, Peaches. I win.”

“Hurry up, Spike, it’s cold!” Buffy’s voice echoes through the otherwise silent graveyard.

Spike rolls his eyes in amusement and reaches into the pocket of his coat. “So sorry we can’t continue this conversation. It’s not nice to keep a slayer waiting. Here’s a little something for the afterlife.” He sets a jar of hair gel on the grass and dashes off after Buffy.





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