Spike dropped down to his knees atop his wife’s grave facing her headstone. The cold, damp snow crunched under his weight and chilled his legs, but he barely noticed. He carefully laid the remaining bouquet, a dozen dusty-pink roses, at the base of the large, marble marker, positioning them ‘just so’ for her in the shallow snow.
When he had them perfect, he reached into the pocket of his duster and pulled out a pint of ‘Double Decadent Walnut Fudge’ ice cream along with a spoon. He set the ice cream down next to the flowers and pressed the spoon through the lid and down into the frozen treat.
“Knew ya couldn’t go more than a week without it, pet,” he murmured into the cold, quiet night.
A sad smile came to his lips as he looked up at the marker and began tracing her name with his fingertips, as if he could somehow touch her just one last time.
He traced each letter carefully, slowly, watching his fingers move over the cold, grey stone as if watching them caress her soft, beautiful skin. The inscription announced her resting place to the world: ‘Buffy Summers Pratt’. Beneath that was the year of her birth and a blank area for the stone-mason to carve in the year of her death: 2108. Spike traced the ‘1981’ slowly and deliberately, and then slid his hand down to the words beneath it: ‘Spirit Indestructible’.
Spike shook his head slowly as tears again welled in his eyes, the movement of his hand faltering on the cold stone. “Not so indestructible, I reckon…” he murmured to the stone as salty tears spilled from his shimmering eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
Spike leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the hard stone and draping his arms over it as a sob wracked his body. “Buffy … miss you so much, pet. So bloody empty inside. Did as ya asked, pet. I let ya go, but comin’ t’ look for you, I am … can’t stay ‘ere without ya, luv.
“Can’t do it, Buffy … it’s just too bloody cold and dark … right ‘ere,” he told her, pressing a fist against his unbeating heart as the tears froze on his cheeks. “Never felt anythin’ like it before … gotta find ya. Gotta make this stop. Gonna be there soon, pet. Be there t’ find ya.”
Spike seemed to melt into a pile of black leather and denim, curling into a ball atop his mate’s grave. He shivered uncontrollably, and wrapped his duster around himself tighter as he pulled his knees into a fetal position in the snow. But it did little good, the cold was coming from inside, not out. He couldn’t stop the tears that leaked from his eyes and froze onto his skin, nor could he stop the sobs that shook his thin frame. He hadn’t eaten since that night; it hadn’t even occurred to him to eat.
He was dead. He was worse than dead, he was empty. He’d never felt such all-consuming emptiness before. Never.
Buffy had always said it was his heart that set him apart from other vampires, but his heart was gone now. There was nothing left inside him; just utter blackness, desolation, despair, an empty void where his heart used to be. Buffy had taken it with her, as he knew she would. She, after all, had always been his heart, even before he’d met her, even before she’d been born. It had always been her he’d been seeking: the Slayer that held his heart.
Spike closed his eyes as he wrapped up into an even tighter ball. Trying to make himself as small as possible on the cold, hard ground. The snow began to fall again, drifting down from the now-black sky and dusting him in a layer of white. He made no move to rise or take shelter; only the sobs wracking his body gave any hint that he was something other than an unburied corpse in the cemetery.
The snow would end soon; the storm would pass in the night. The morning would dawn crisp and bright. The sun would bathe Austin in glowing, golden rays, melting the snow, warming the day. And he would wait for it. He would welcome those golden rays because they reminded him of her. Her golden hair, her bright smile, her warm heart. It was fitting that the sun would send him on his way to find her again, for she had always been his own personal sunshine. He’d basked in her glow for decades. He didn’t know how to live now without it and he had no desire to learn.
“Walk through hell an’ back t’ find ya, pet,” Spike murmured to the snow-covered ground. “Promise, Buffy … I bloody well promise that I’ll find ya, if I gotta kill the devil ‘imself for the Powers t’ let me in. I’m comin’, Buffy … I’m comin’.”
**~**
“Poppi!!” little Summer exclaimed excitedly, throwing herself on the snow-covered vampire and wrapping her little arms around him. “Mommy said you’d be here with Nana and you are!” she declared sounding more than a little surprised that her mom had been right.
Spike jerked and jumped, suddenly awakened from his exhausted sleep beneath the snow. He’d never intended on waking again. He’d dreamt of Buffy … he’d found her … or she’d found him. He could still see her, they were in a cemetery and she was walking towards him, her face determined, her stride purposeful, set on reaching him. He’d just looked up and seen her, just started moving towards her when …
“Bloody hell, platelet!” Spike exclaimed, sitting up and pushing the child off him, perhaps a bit rougher than strictly necessary. “Can’t a bloke ‘ave some soddin’ peace in this godforsaken world?!”
Summer fell onto her butt in the snow, her excited smile quickly fading to confused tears.
“Summer! Are you okay?” the girl’s mother, Anne, questioned worriedly as she came up behind the child and bent to pick her daughter up.
But the child was having none of it. She twisted from her mother’s grip, standing up and moving away, her little arms crossed firmly over her chest as she tried to hide her hurt feelings.
Anne let her go and turned flashing green eyes on her great, great grandfather. “Was that really necessary?” she chastised. “She’s five, Poppi! Five!”
Spike, still sitting on the ground, scowled up at her angrily. “Didn’t ‘urt her!” he defended. “Shouldn’t be sneaking up on a bloke like that! What the bloody hell are ya doin’ here? Shouldn’t ya be sleeping, all warm an’ toasty in your beds?”
Anne pursed her lips and returned his scowl. “Yeah, we should, but for some stupid reason Nana thought you’d be here and thought we should come see about you.”
“Nana?! Buffy!? You … talked to Buffy?” Spike gasped out, his eyes wide with wonder and hope. Had Buffy come back? Had the Powers sent her back to him? Was she home, waiting for him right now?!
Spike jumped to his feet and grabbed Anne by the shoulders. “Where is she?! Is she alright?” he demanded.
“Oh … no, Poppi,” Anne cajoled, shaking her head sadly. “No, I’m sorry … it’s … she left me a letter,” she explained, holding up a folded paper to him.
Spike looked at the paper dumbly, her words not registering right away. He had a picture of Buffy well and whole, waiting for him in their house. His love, his mate, waiting with open arms to welcome him home; waiting to shower him in her warmth; waiting to erase this emptiness inside him, to fill him with her love again.
Anne lifted the paper and unfolded it. “It says you’d be here on the morning after her funeral, and she wanted me to give you this,” she continued softly, lifting an envelope up for him to see.
Spike released the hold he had on Anne’s upper arms and took the envelope from her hand slowly. Still not really comprehending, not wanting to comprehend her words, he lifted the paper to his nose and inhaled. Buffy.
Spike’s eyes fluttered closed as a thousand memories flooded through him. Buffy. The fragrance drifted around him in the cold, crisp air and evoked a flood of emotions deep inside him. He could feel her arms around him, hear her heartbeat, get lost in the green of her eyes, see her bottom lip coming out in a pout, hear her voice calling his name, feel her soft hair flowing over his skin. Buffy.
Spike let himself get lost in the feelings, in the sight and sound and smell of her, breathing her in. Buffy. After several long moments, he slowly opened his eyes. It wasn’t Buffy. She wasn’t here. Her arms were not around him. Her eyes were not delving into his, her golden hair was not begging to be touched, her bottom lip was not waiting for him to nibble on it … her heart was not beating.
Spike took in a long, deep, unneeded breath through his mouth, clearing the vision of his mate from his mind. Carefully, he opened the envelope, moving away from Anne to open the letter inside and read it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My dearest Spike,
I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I left you. God, I would’ve done anything in the world to have stayed, my baby. And I know what you’re thinking now, but you know that wouldn’t have worked, I wouldn’t have stayed me without my soul. I’m so sorry. Know that I love you with all my heart and I promise I will find you again one day. I’ll never stop until I do, this I promise with my very soul … it’s why I needed it.
I have to ask one more thing of you now. Please don’t hate me for this, I know what I’m asking isn’t fair to you, it isn’t reasonable. I know you’ve done more than any man should have to do in a thousand lifetimes, but I have to ask you to do one more thing for me.
Stay.
Stay for Summer. Spike, you’re the only one I trust. If she’s Called, you’re the only one that I know will protect her. I wish I could do it myself; I had planned on it, but … life, death had other plans. Please, Spike, I can’t bear the thought of her being a Slayer without you at her side. She’s all we have left of Will and Jade, all that’s left of our lives, our love.
I know it skipped Anne, I know it might not happen at all, but with our family tree, I’m afraid it will. I’m so afraid for her, Spike. Please … stay. Show her what it means to be a Slayer. Show her what it means to be a Pratt, a Summers. Anne tries so hard, but she needs help, she’s all alone now. She needs you. They both need you.
This one last thing I ask of you, my mate. Don’t hate me. Please, don’t hate me. I love you so much; more than I could ever say. You’re more than I deserve, I know that. I know I ask too much of you. I also know you’re the only one in heaven or on Earth that I can count on to keep her safe.
Please do this one last thing for me, William. Stay.
All my love is yours. My heart, my soul, they’re yours. I swear I’ll find you. Never doubt that we’ll be together again, my tender-hearted demon. This, I swear.
With all my heart, my soul, and my love,
~Buffy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tears flooded from Spike’s eyes as he read the letter again and again, willing the words to change, but they never did.
Stay.
Did she have any fucking idea what she was asking?!?! Any idea at all?! How could she not know what she was asking of him? How could she not know how hollow and empty he was inside? How filled with misery. How inky black his heart was. How much he needed her. How much he wanted to … die, to dust, to leave this godforsaken realm and find her.
How could she not KNOW?!
Spike dropped to his knees, hitting the cold ground hard. He still held the letter in front of him with both hands, staring at it but not seeing it, as his vision blurred with more tears.
“Poppi?” a small voice questioned tentatively. “Are you alright?”
Spike slowly raised his shimmering eyes up to meet the worried eyes of his young great-times-four granddaughter, and his own blue eyes looked back at him.
He shook his head slowly, almost absently. No … he wasn’t alright. No. No…
“Nana says ice cream and hugs fix everything,” Summer told him as she stepped forward and wrapped her small arms around his neck.
A sob shook Spike’s body as he leaned into the youngster’s embrace, dropping his head to her shoulder as his tears came harder.
“Please don’t cry, Poppi. It’ll be okay, I have magic inside, you can have some ... and there’s ice cream at home…” she assured him solemnly.
Still holding Buffy’s letter in one hand, Spike wrapped his arms around the girl and hugged her to him tightly as he cried, his dark heart taking some comfort from her innocence and sincerity. He felt more warmth encircle him and realized that Anne had wrapped her arms around them both.
“W-we m-miss her too,” she stammered through her own tears. “I know … I know it’s not the same, but we love you. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave us. I don’t think Summer could bear it … I don’t think I could. Please, Poppi.”
Spike was surrounded in warmth by the two generations of grandchildren, their thudding hearts ringing in his ears, their salty tears mingling in the cold, still air with the fragrance of Buffy’s letter. What was he supposed to do? He felt incapable of staying, of enduring this frigid, black emptiness that chilled his very bones, but how could he not? He had to find Buffy … somehow, he didn’t know how, but he had been prepared to find a way, to do whatever it took to get to her, fight anyone or anything, but now … How could he go now?
Spike slumped heavily against Summer and Anne as he sobbed; his shattered heart laying in pieces in the inky darkness that filled him. But slowly a small glow began to shine down on those jagged shards as Summer and Anne hugged him and cried with him in the snow atop Buffy’s grave. It wasn’t enough to put his Humpty-Dumpty heart back together again, but it was something. It was enough. It had to be enough. Buffy wanted him to stay. He would stay.
Forever love’s bitch.
**~**
{{ Click here to hear Westlife, What Makes a Man (This Isn’t Goodbye) on YouTube }}
This isn't goodbye, even as I watch you leave, this isn't goodbye
I swear I won't cry, even as tears fill my eyes, I swear I won't cry
Any other girl, I'd let you walk away
Any other girl, I'm sure I'd be ok
Tell me what makes a man
Wanna give you all his heart
Smile when you're around
And cry when you're apart
If you know what makes a man
Wanna love you the way I do
Girl you gotta let me know
So I can get over you
What makes her so right?
Is it the sound of her laugh?
That look in her eyes
When do you decide?
She is the dream that you seek
That force in your life
When you apologize, no matter who was wrong
When you get on your knees if that would bring her home
Tell me what makes a man
Wanna give you all his heart
Smile when you're around
And cry when you're apart
If you know what makes a man
Wanna love you the way I do
Girl you gotta let me know
So that I can get over you
Other girls will come along, they always do
But what's the point when all I ever want is you, tell me
Tell me what makes a man
Wanna give you all his heart
Smile when you're around
And cry when you're apart
If you know what makes a man
Wanna love you the way I do
Girl you gotta let me know..... (let me know)
Girl you gotta let me know..... (wooo)
So I can get over you