Buffy stared at their hands.
She couldn’t look away.
Two hands, one tanned by the Californian sun, the other whitened by darkness, both so often used for violence, now clutching each other fiercely, tenderly, lovingly.
Surrounded by flames.
The fire didn’t burn in the usual way. There was heat, plenty of that, and it warmed every fibre of her being. Buffy couldn’t understand it. There was no pain. None at all. Just the exquisite feeling of connection, of oneness, of completion.
She could see her own wonder reflected in Spikes eyes as they saw their relationship properly, fully, for the first time.
They saw it all, right from the beginning. They had never hated each other, not ever. There had been distrust, disgust, resentment, sure, but there had also been respect. Even when they had been trying to kill each other there had been respect, a secret admiration, for the others ability and strength. There had been something else there too, right from the start. That connection that Spike had always seen, and Buffy had always denied, did exist.
Equally stubborn, equally fierce. They both needed more than their lives had given them. They both wore a facade of certainty to hide the self loathing within. They felt inferior, superior, at the same time. Both had had their lives altered beyond recognition, had a way of life forced upon them which they alternately rejected and embraced. Both had loved so much, lost so much, and had never been loved equally in return. Both were destroyed by the people they loved. One had too much humanity for their race, the other worried she did not have enough.
They had been drawn to each other. They brought out the best and the worst of each other. Their undeniable attraction repulsed and thrilled.
They were kindred spirits.
They saw it all. The good. The bad. The very bad. The real.
Their relationship had brought them to this place, and as Buffy saw the passion that lay between them, manifested in flame she knew, beyond doubt.
“I love you”
She could see the anguish in his eyes, the hope, smothered by disbelief, and it made her sore.
“No you don’t, but thanks for saying it”.
He was saying something else, asking her to leave, but Buffy didn’t hear it.
Was she about to lose him just as she realised how much she needed him?
Love always left. She had learnt that. But it didn’t have to be that way. Not for them.
Spike was in pain, the amulets power shooting through his chest, searing the soul he had won for her.
He was shouting at her now. She could feel his panic rolling off him in waves. It wasn’t fear for himself, but fear for her, for her safety.
Despite everything Spike made her feel safe. He made her warm, even as the world was making her cold. She wouldn’t leave him, she couldn’t.
She grabbed his other hand even as he tried to push her away. She grasped his fingers in a death grip. The flames that had surrounded their hands spread and grew, engulfing them. The beam of light burning Spike began to burn her too, but Buffy wasn’t afraid.
She had died before. So had Spike. This didn’t feel like dying. This felt right.
He was crying out through the pain, trying to get her to leave him.
She smiled and looked him right in the eyes. “I want to see how this ends”.
She didn’t look away. The world was falling down around them, but Buffy had finally found her place in it.
Spike realised it was too late to push her away, so he pulled her closer. She pressed herself against his chest. The last thing she heard was the pounding of his long dead heart.
They were consumed by the flames.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I really didn't like the way series seven ended, so this is my twist on it. I haven't decided yet whether this is a one short or a if there will be more to come. I have an idea in my head but as usual I'll leave it up to reviews to decide whether I continue it! Thankyou!