The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.’
William Butler Yeats
The sudden silence had forced Buffy to stop and glance around at her friends. Willow, Xander and Dawn had all been staring at her, looks of shock, confusion and pity on their faces. She had turned back to Giles only to see him polishing his glasses before looking up at her once more.
“Buffy, Faith made it quite clear. She believes that it would have been impossible for Spike to survive either the effects of the amulet or the destruction of the Hellmouth. Denial is a common enough response to grief, but sooner or later you will have to accept that Spike has gone, and begin to move on, both figuratively and literally.”
Buffy had sat there, feeling shocked and confused, but not one bit shaken in her utter belief and confidence in Spike’s survival and return to her. However, looking at her friends and family once more, she had known that she just didn’t have the energy to explain or convince them. With calm dignity she had excused herself, pleading tiredness and a serious need to clean up.
Once she’d made it back to her and Dawn’s room and showered and changed, exhaustion had in fact hit her. Although still light outside, she had collapsed onto one of the twin beds and fallen quickly into a deep sleep.
The first dream had visited her that evening. Lying on top of the worn bedspread in that dingy little room, Buffy’s subconscious had taken her through every event, every action, every word spoken to her or by her. As clear as a 3D movie screening before her eyes, she had not only seen and heard, but also felt everything that had occurred over the last 24 hours.
Some parts had been shocking, some painful and terrifying, however everything, including Buffy’s own personal highlights, had played clear and true; once again she’d relived the night in the basement making love with Spike, the incredible experiences that had happened when she and Spike were connected in the Hellmouth and the love that they felt for each other.
Buffy had slept soundly through the night, unaware of the hotel door quietly opening and then closing, or her sister tiptoeing into the room and preparing for bed. Neither had she heard Dawn’s quiet sobbing as she’d mourned the loss of Amanda and the other S.I.T.s, dear quirky, brave Anya and especially her beloved guardian and big brotherish pain-in-the-butt, Spike.
When Buffy woke up the next day she’d felt refreshed and optimistic. She still felt warm and tingly and loved. There was a whole big world out there ready to take on. And as soon as she had Spike by her side, take it on they would.
Looking back now, Buffy knew her loopiness must have driven everyone crazy. After breakfast she’d insisted on being driven back to the crater. She’d half expected Spike to show up at the hotel during the night. But his non-appearance didn’t put her off. She had been prepared to wait it out for as long as it took, sure that he would sense her very presence, that she would be able to draw him to her like a siren.
She had of course considered going down into the devastation to shift rock and debris searching for him. But one look across the vast crater had eliminated that option from even her whacked out mind. Any reminder of the town of Sunnydale had been obliterated, every house, every building, every tree upended and buried beneath endless piles of jagged rock. No sign of civilization remained anywhere in that colourless, desolate wasteland. But she’d known, without a single doubt, that he was still out there somewhere, every cell in her body humming in response to his presence.
And so she had sat and waited, replaying in her head over and over the precious moments that she’d shared with Spike, and enjoying the faint echoes of the ‘heatwave’, as she’d come to think of it in her head, that she could still feel tingling in her blood. As the day had worn on and no sight or sound of Spike appeared, her confidence remained unbroken. Even as the heat of the sun faded, signaling the approaching dusk, and shadows had begun creeping like malevolent fingers across the shattered rubble and discarded fragments of so many lives, she had calmly packed up her gear. When Xander had arrived in the rental car to pick her up, Buffy had simply walked to the edge of the crater, sent Spike her love, and let him know she’d be back in the morning.
And so the pattern of her days began. With hindsight, she knew the others must have been merely humouring her by tolerating this daily pilgrimage. The fact had been they probably hadn’t really known what to say to her, and most of them had either been recovering from the battle themselves or beginning to talk about, plan and arrange what would happen next.
Buffy, camped out by the crater on her own, had been totally unaware of these happenings and quite oblivious to her fellow survivors. Each morning someone had driven her back to the ruins. She had taken water, some food, a blanket and a small beach shade, purchased from the garage, so that she’d been able to shelter from the warm spring sun.
Just after dusk she’d be picked up again. Back at the hotel she’d eat, shower and go straight to bed, escaping back into her little dream world. She had barely spoken to anyone over the first three days, not because she’d been annoyed or upset, but simply because she’d been so wrapped up in her own mission. It was like she’d been holding her breath, waiting for Spike’s return to start breathing again.
So it had come as an enormous shock when at dusk on the third day, Giles, duty chauffeur that evening, had informed her that he was leaving the following morning. Apparently there had been endless meetings and phone calls, negotiations and arrangements until a tentative plan had been drawn up. The entire group had voted, and everyone was packing up and flying out to England to set up a central base. From there, they’d each be assigned different tasks, some longer term and some on a needs only basis.
Giles would fly out first, taking Xander with him. They were to begin the task of organizing finance, accommodation and resources. The remainder would join them a week later. He had been determined to rebuild the Council of Watchers into a bigger, better, safer and more democratic organization than before. With a gleam in his eye, he had explained how much there was to do, but how he was looking forward to the challenge.
Buffy hadn’t known what to say. For the first time, she’d felt a sense of unease as she realized that Giles, Faith and the new Slayers, even Dawn, Willow and Xander, had been all making plans for the next stage of their lives, while she’d held herself in limbo, not prepared to move on without Spike. She’d turned to face Giles as they pulled into the hotel car park.
“But what about me Giles? I can’t go anywhere until I find Spike.”
Giles had sighed, turned off the engine, and removed his glasses.
“Yes Buffy, we’re all well aware that you need a little more time to, ah, wait for Spike. But we do need you with us. Further more, many of us, myself included, could not conceive of not having you in our day-to-day lives. Dawn needs you, and I, well you are not only my Slayer, you are like a daughter to me.” At this he had paused and polished his glasses before returning them to his face.
“But if you need a little more time, then Dawn and Willow have offered to stay on with you for a couple of extra days.” At this he had reached out and gently laid his hand on top of hers. “I know this is hard for you Buffy. We want to do whatever we can to make this time easier for you.”
Her eyes had filled at that, and she’d mumbled her thanks before turning and stumbling out of the car. As she’d shakily shoved her room key in the lock, she’d felt the first tears trickle down her cheeks. She’d pushed open the door and stepped inside, standing there trembling and panting as the tears began to pour down her face. Then she’d heard a noise from behind her, a gasp, and suddenly she’d been drawn forward into Dawn’s gangly arms and embraced from behind by Willow.
At that she’d lost it, shuddering and weeping as she’d finally acknowledged her fears. For the first time she’d felt cold, all of her Spike warmth melted away. She’d shakily sat down between the two girls, and told them, in fits and starts, exactly what had happened down in the Hellmouth. The retelling had been a bit disjointed, and she’d left some of the more personal details out, but uncharacteristically for Buffy, of the events and the emotions, she’d held nothing back.
“You should have seen him. I mean I know he likes to be all Big Bad and everything but he, he was just so beautiful, so amazing. And I don’t know what happened when we joined hands but it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” Buffy had laughed and cried as she’d rambled on. Her face glowing with love and pride she’d said softly. “I know you guys don’t get it, but I really love him. I’ve got to get him back, I’ve got to.”
Emotionally exhausted, she’d let the two other girls help her into bed and had fallen into an uneasy sleep. That night the first change had taken place in her dream. This time, as she’d stood in front of the bus, looking out over the remains of Sunnydale, she’d been able to hear him calling her name, begging for help. She’d turned to look at the others, but no-one else had heard anything. They’d all climbed back on the bus, waiting patiently for her as she’d paced frantically alongside the edge of the crater, listening helplessly to his cries for help, listening as he screamed her name.
“Buffy!”