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These aren't diary entries anymore... it's in third person.

Chapter 22

Rupert Giles closed the worn-in composition book in front of him and rubbed his eyes. Something inside of him seemed to break just a little bit as he looked at the small, blonde girl sitting across from him. Something inside of him that most people would call a heart seemed to ache just a little bit for her.

When he first met her – about a month ago – she had been broken. She had a permanent sarcastic scowl glued onto her face and her eyes were a dull green, shielding the world from her soul. He remembered looking at her and thinking… ‘Not another one of these time-bombs called teenagers’. He had given her a black and white composition book and told her to write down what happened, from the beginning. It was something he always did – throw a book at the troubled teens and instruct them to tell him what happened. And every time he did that, he was given back the same blank book with not more than a sentence or two written on the inside.

They told him they’d never try anything stupid again and he signed for their release back to society. He didn’t expect any different from her.

But it wasn’t long before he learned that this girl, this amazing girl, would be one to throw him surprises. She had an entry written for every one of their sessions. She never talked about it, though. Just handed it quietly to him and sat at her usual chair waiting for him to read what she had written. Sometimes, he’d comment, sometimes he would just sit there in shock.

Right now, the girl in question was again, sitting in her usual chair, staring out the window at the gray, monotonous sky. No doubt it would rain soon. Again.

He cleared his throat and she turned towards him with a small smile on her face. It didn’t reach her eyes. It never reached her eyes.

“So this is it. Huh, Giles?” she asked, mouth twitching just a hair. “Am I okay? All better now? Free of all suicidal tendencies?”

Giles took off his glasses and felt his pocket for a handkerchief.

“Uh, Buffy?” he started slowly. “Can you tell me what happened after you found him in a coma?”

Her smile fell and she looked out the window again. He wasn’t sure whether she would answer him or not, and it didn’t really make a difference. She would be sent home today, either way. After a strained moment of silence, she opened her mouth to tell him.

“After I found him that first day, I visited him every single day after that,” she said, quietly. “I wished for a miracle. Lame, I know. Especially since miracles never seem to happen. Then one day, I got a call. They said that he had pulled out of his coma and into the persistent vegetative state that the doctor had predicted.”

She paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. “That was something. At least for me it was. I still saw him everyday and sometimes, I even thought he could hear me. I thought we were progressing… maybe he would wake up, you know? But he didn’t. The doctor said that he could have been that way for years and Cecily started talking about ending his life support. That bitch.”

Giles coughed and she glanced quickly at him. “Sorry. She said that he had never supported extended life support because he knew how expensive that was and everything. But I disagreed. He had to wake up. But …”

She broke off.

“Buffy, if it’s too hard, you – “ Giles began but she held a hand up and shook her head.

“It’s okay. The day before July 4th, he stopped functioning. We didn’t know what happened… it’s like he just died. Just like that,” the tears filled her eyes and she sniffed hard. “It’s like he couldn’t just … I don’t know. I thought he would keep trying. For me. And I was devastated… I wasn’t thinking. All I knew was the pain and how I wanted it to just go away. I thought I’d join him in heaven or limbo or wherever the hell we went. And that’s why I did it, Giles. I tried to make it go away.”

They were silent for a spell before Giles walked over to put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, it feels like maybe death is the best option,” he said, solemnly. “But, Buffy…” he kneeled down in front of her. “Buffy, look at me.”

She turned her teary eyes to him. He continued, “Is that what Spike would have wanted? If Spike were here in this room right now… what do you think he would tell you to do?”

She closed her eyes. “He’d tell me to live,” she whispered. “He’d tell me to live for him and be happy.”

Giles gripped both her shoulders tightly. “Then that’s what you have to do.”

She opened her eyes and smiled at him before pulling him in for a big hug.

“Thank you,” she told him and he smiled.

She had been through hell, this girl, and yet, here she sat. She was strong and she didn’t even realize it. Giles knew that Buffy would pull through whatever came her way and he knew that she would be great in anything she did.

After all, her heart was big enough to fit the earth, stars, and moon. She was destined to be great.


Chapter 23

William T. Pratt

February 10th 1977 – July 4th 2005

He was Loved.

Buffy ran a light finger over the top of the headstone. Restfield Cemetery. It seemed so impersonal. The rain was falling down at a light drizzle, and the air felt cold. Just like the cemetery and all the bodies buried underneath. She couldn’t really bring herself to believe that his body was right there with her, six feet underground. Just the thought alone made her shudder.

A low rumble of thunder sounded from a few miles away and she looked up to see the sky turning a sickly gray. The trees blew around and the wind whistled. A storm was on it’s way.

She returned her attention back to the gravestone in front of her and dug her hands in her pockets. Seconds later, she fished out a crumpled sheet of paper and began to unfold it.

“I, uh,” she said softly, her voice not rising above the steady tapping of the rain on the hard surfaces of the cemetery. “I wrote you something. It’s a letter. I tried poetry, but …” she laughed, despite herself, “I wasn’t that good. So… here goes.”

She took a deep breath and started reading.

“I never said goodbye. But then, there were a lot of things I never said to you. I guess I thought I’d have forever, I guess I was scared, I guess I was a lot of things. But it doesn’t matter now.

We were never perfect, but then again – things were never perfect unless you were right there with me. We were never right – not in society’s eyes, not in anybody’s eyes. But things never felt more right than when you had me in your arms.

You know, I started this letter a thousand times, trying to think of the millions of things I should have told you. And it all comes down to one thing.

Love.

I never knew it before, and I never really believed in it before. True love, that is. It sounds like something that belongs in fairytales between beautiful princesses and handsome knights. I never really believed in soul mates, counterparts, any of that super romantic stuff. It all seemed so … intangible.

And I never really thought I could fall in love with someone as quickly as I fell in love with you. I did, you know? Love you, that is.

I’ve tried thinking about it, but I keep finding that whenever I think about it, I confuse myself. So I have to go with my gut feeling. Go with what’s real. And I know this.

We were never perfect. I know. I said it already. What we had was never a fairytale. If it was… we could have run away together and had a happily ever after. There wasn’t a perfect prince or a flawless princess, either. We both had problems of our own. We both hurt each other so much. But that never killed this emotion… this feeling that I have for you.

I love you. All the time. In my highs, in my lows, when I’m sleeping and when I’m awake. When I cry, I wish you were there to comfort me, when I’m happy, I want to share that with you. I want to share everything with you.

I never told you, but I love you so much that it hurts.”

The paper fluttered down from her fingers as she said her last words. The rain mixed in with her tears and washed the world away again and again and again. The skies opened up and cried for her as she knelt down in front of the headstone and leaned against it, sobbing away her sorrows.

“God, Spike,” she cried, helplessly, “I love you so much. I wish I could have told you. I wish you would have known..”

But, it was too late.

A hand fell down on her shoulder and she looked up slowly to see the face of Cecily Wyndam-Pryce staring down at her.

The brunette woman knelt down, too, and placed a rose next to the grave. Neither of them said anything for a long while – they both just sat there silently, listening to the rain and the thudding of their hearts. Sometimes, words could be meaningless.

“You know,” Cecily finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’m almost jealous of you. I was, for a little while, at least.”

Buffy didn’t turn around or speak, so she continued.

“A long time ago, I thought I loved him,” she smiled wistfully. “I thought that what we had was it… I was so young. I didn’t know any better. When he moved to America, I let the distance grow on me. I put him on a pedestal. I idolized him. I created my own vision of him and fell in love with it. In my fantasies, he was a perfect father to my little James and he was a doting husband. He was perfect in all aspects. And when my father told me it was time to come join him,… I was just so happy.”

She paused, then spoke again.

“The second I set my eyes on him again, I realized I had been a fool,” Cecily shook her head. “And then I saw you. I saw the looks that you two shared… and I knew what it was. You know, he was coming back for you.”

Buffy’s neck almost snapped. Her head immediately turned to look at Cecily, eyes widening in disbelief.

“I thought you knew,” Cecily told her. “He was coming back to Sunnydale from the airport in Los Angeles. We were driving down and he suddenly said he couldn’t do it…”

--- flashback ---

Spike’s knuckles whitened with the tight grip he had on the steering wheel. He was fifteen minutes to the airport and he realized that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave with his fiancé and go to London to get married. It didn’t even sound possible. It was almost like a dream, except a little less pleasant.

Cecily looked at him, curiously. He was breathing in and out deeply and his eyes didn’t seem focused.

Finally, he snapped.

“I can’t do this,” he said. His jaw set in a straight line. Cecily sighed; she wasn’t exactly surprised.

“Yes, I know,” she said softly, turning her gaze to the window.

“I’m sorry. There’s somebody – “ he began.

Cecily cut him off, “I know. You love her.” He turned towards her with a stunned look in her eyes and she just shrugged. “Woman’s intuition.”

“Cec,… you’re not – “

“I’ll be fine, really. And I’ll tell daddy that we made the decision together. You deserve to be with her, William,” she smiled and his shoulders sagged in relief.

“I wont abandon you or James, though,” he told her, looking back ahead. “I’ll go with you to London to see him. I’ll give you support, money, anything you need, just ask.”

She put a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently, “I only need you as a friend and a father for James. And anyways,” she grinned, “the whole daddy-arranges-my-marriage is a bit outdated.”

He smiled, “That it is, pet.”

“William,” she said and he turned. “There’s no need for you to go to London right now. Just drive me to the airport and go back to her. God knows you need to, after all that fretting last night and this morning. Godness, I’ve never seen a man so distressed.”

“You’re an amazing woman, Cec, you know that?” his grin matched hers and she nodded her head.

“So I’ve been told.”

--- End flashback ---

“… I didn’t even make it to the terminal before I got a call from the police station, telling me what had happened,” Cecily finished. Then, she stood up and dusted off her knees. The skies were still heavily clouded, even though the rain had stopped. Buffy stayed where she was, numbly in shock.

“I thought you should know,” Cecily told her before turning to leave. “He knew you loved him. Even if you never told him.”

Before she left the cemetery, she heard a quiet “Thank you,” coming from Buffy’s still form.

Your welcome, she thought to herself, opening up the door of the taxi that was heading over to the airport. She was going home, at last.


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A/N: Only one more chapter left!





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