Epilogue:
Buffy Willow and Xander stand side by side on the University of Sunnydale campus. It’s a sunny day as usual as army trucks randomly roll down the road even though most of the undead have been cleaned out of the streets. The three of them look on at Lowell house, the sun shining across their faces, which is covered in police tape and stand in a moment of silence. Classes have been canceled, but other then that the residents of Sunnydale are going about their daily lives without much change.
“So what they’re just gonna clean it up and go on like no big deal now?” Willow asks.
“That’s Sunnydale for you… disaster forgetting capital of the world,” Xander says.
“I heard they’re building a memorial,” Buffy says.
“What are they saying happened… I’ve been refusing to watch the news,” Willow asks.
“Ah, well the scoop today is that it was an infectious disease that started at Lowell house.”
Buffy’s eyes flutter down to the ground for a moment before looking up through the sunlight at Lowell house. At the place where she watched Riley die, where she fought for her life, and where she kissed Spike. With all the events from the night before Buffy’s mind is jumbled with thoughts and pieces of information, pieces like that of a puzzle which are scattered across the floor making it impossible to see the picture they form. One thing she does know is that the picture, a picture that in part portrays Spike, is not what she once thought it was. When she can finally get the pieces together Buffy knows the image they form will be far different then she ever expected.
“Hey… I think I’m gonna book, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Buffy says as she walks off without waiting for a response from her friends.
“Think she’s okay,” Willow asks once Buffy is out of sight.
“She’s probably still a little shook up… I’m sure she’ll be back to the regular ole’ Buffster soon.”
“I hope so.”
“She hasn’t talked to you about what all went on last night has she?”
“Not me… you?”
“No… I uh… I’m sure she will soon though.”
--
Buffy pushes the crypt door open gently to prevent the sun that’s at her back from flooding the tomb. She steps inside the dusty cement structure and sees Spike sitting cross-legged atop one of the stone sarcophaguses facing her. A bottle of black nail polish is before him and the tiny brush in his hand is working across his nails. Spike doesn’t even bother to look at her as she enters his new home. He knows it’s her, he could feel her long before she even reached the door, and a part of him is glad to see her although he’d never admit that to anyone, not even himself.
”Slayer… wasn’t expecting to see you here… how’d you find me?”
“If you didn’t want to be found staying in Sunnydale wasn’t the smartest decision… and I have my sources.”
“Willie sold me out huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Bloody snitch he is… so, what brings you my way? Here to bust my chops, tell me to watch my back, chipped or not you’ve still got an eye out for me,” Spike says then watches Buffy’s eyes flicker to the floor for a moment.
“I um… I wanted to say thank you… I couldn’t have stopped it… Last night I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yeah, well… didn’t want to get eaten is all, I rather like being at the top of the food chain… so that’s it then… you came here to thank the big bad?”
“You’re not the big bad anymore Spike… and I don’t know where that leaves us… we’re not mortal enemies anymore, hell if anything we’re allies… but I still don’t trust you… I don’t know I just… I guess I’m saying… things are different now.”
“What does that mean?” Spike says with a furrowed brow.
“I’m not sure yet… we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Without another word Buffy turns and exits Spike’s crypt closing the door behind her and leaving the vampire inside baffled and finding himself reconsidering his relationship with the slayer just as she had done with him.
--
Past the army trucks rolling down the streets of Sunnydale, past the University and the Bronze, past the Welcome to Sunnydale sign and deserted dusty roads on the outskirts of town, past it all he walks. Torn and tattered clothes, deep wounds from scratches and biting, and hollow white eyes make up this man, blood splatter covers his ripped jeans and dirty baby blue tee and as he opens his mouth in a hungry howl his teeth and lips are tinted pink. The green mist only traveled so far, only stopped so many, only did so much. It wasn’t enough.
The black SUV moves quickly down the desert road toward Sunnydale. David Meyer and his roommates Trevor and Steven are coming back to town after a trip to Las Vegas. With the music cranked the vehicle speeds twenty miles over the speed limit, but David’s led foot doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, that is until he sees it. There is a man walking on the side of the road up ahead, a man that resembles their friend Ben.
“Hey, guys look over there,” David says.
“There’s a guy in the road… what the hell is he doing way out here,” Trevor replies.
“I don’t know, car trouble maybe… hey doesn’t that look like Ben Rogers to you?”
“Dude pull over, that’s so him,” Steven says.
The SUV rolls to a stop before the tattered walking man and David rolls down his window. He can tell that the man before him is his friend Ben, and he can also tell that Ben has seen better days.
“Ben, Man… what the hell happened to you?” David says, “Come on, get in. We’ll give you a ride back into town.”
Steven opens up the back door to let Ben slide in next to him which he does with speed.
THE END
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