[Reviews - 13]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2211 times

- Text Size +




Last visit and Epilogue.


The sound of heavy footsteps along the pathway beside his house has Edward Hubbard dropping his spade and abandoning his precious garden. A sigh of relief passes through his lips at the sight of his two favorite visitors. They’d been avoiding the cemetery for nearly a week and after the last two monuments he’d seen erected, he could hardly blame them. No one, no matter how strong or immortal, should have to bury a child and a parent on the same day.

William, as Hubbard’s come to know him, offers the old caretaker a wretched smile as he and his lady pass by. The woman’s eyes never leave the ground and she is leaning heavily on her companion. Hubbard nods sympathetically and, remembering his wife’s grief at having to bury their first stillborn child, murmurs a few awkward words of consolation then leaves them to mourn in peace.


Buffy stops abruptly just outside the crumbling brick wall that serves as a barricade between this small corner and the rest of the cemetery. Though it is mere steps to her destination, her feet refuse to take her any further. Spike stands beside her with an arm around her waist offering reassurance but not pushing her to move forward. If she wants to have what will undoubtedly be a painful and agonizing conversation with two of the people she loved most, then he will wait in the shadows then help put back the pieces of her broken heart. If she chooses to turn around and return to their warm house, he will lead her back and never pressure her to speak with either of them, no matter the resolution it will bring.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, she takes one hesitant step inside what has become her second home. Spike lags behind, allowing his slayer to set the pace. They unhurriedly walk through the narrow path to where the two newest graves await. Buffy stares longingly at Joyce’s angel statue, desperately wishing she could pause for a moment and speak with her mother. If she stops now, she will lose her nerve and run home so she bravely continues on.

Spike slows as a pink granite headstone comes into view. Buffy instinctively pulls him closer and squeezes him tightly. His loss may not be as great as hers, but that does not make his sorrow any less profound. For a moment, she is both grateful and mournful that neither of them had a chance to hear their daughter’s laugh or see her sweet smile. One the one hand, losing a child you only held once was hard; losing one after years of loving and nurturing would be unbearable. Yet there would be no cherished memories to fall back on the nights when the silence becomes intolerable and the overwhelming depression returns.

When they reach the small stone, Spike reluctantly moves away from her side to kneel beside the tiny grave. It is one of only two in this corner that are actually occupied. He slowly traces the engraved name with the tips of his fingers. His azure eyes well with tears upon reading what is carved just below the name: She was her father’s joy. The news of his child’s existence had pushed Spike into revealing himself to Buffy in the cemetery. From that point on, preparing for her arrival had been his sole duty – one that he’d devotedly dived into.

Buffy places a trembling hand on top of the headstone and opens her mouth to speak but no words come forth. She shakes her head wearily when Spike turns his head to stare at her curiously. There will be no conversation with her little one this night. The wounds are still too raw and the agony too intense. She wordlessly gestures towards the second grave. While she cannot bear to speak to her child just yet, there are a few things that still need to be said. Spike adjusts his position so that he can watch as she sits next to the modest marble memorial, his hand never leaving the pink gravestone.

“You lied,” she begins softly, the accusation tempered by the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “After Sunnydale and… everything, you promised that you’d never leave, never abandon me for my own good. You said once that if all the slayers were like me, a watcher would only be useful for a few years and then he would no longer be needed. It’s very rare that I get to say thing to you so excuse me for gloating just a little. You were wrong. I never really stopped needing you.

You tried so hard to stay involved with my life and I kept pushing you away. I guess part of me hated you for bringing the whole slayer gig back into my life when I first moved to Sunnydale so the more you tried to lead, the less I followed. But now with t-t-the baby and the problem with the slayers, Giles, I’m finally lost enough to let myself be led and you’re not here to guide me.

Remember Spike’s warning about magic having consequences? Apparently that holds true even if the magic stops the apocalypse to end all apocalypses…er… apocali. Never mind. The Powers That Whatever paid us a visit last night via our buddy Whistler. By activating all the slayers, we shifted the balance too far. We could either keep things the way they were and face an even bigger bad or deactivate all the slayers except for one. I’m sure you can guess which one we chose. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all. To keep this from every happening again, the slayer line would end with that one person. She’d be stuck with a lifetime job. They let us pick the oh-so lucky girl.

Faith suggested arm wrestling for it. Dawn said that we should hold the Slayer Olympics. Xander wanted to have a Miss Slayer World pageant, but I think that’s just because he wanted to see a whole bunch of slayers in bikinis. Aside from just randomly drawing a name from a hat, there was no good way to decide so I volunteered. Yes, you heard that right. I volunteered to continue being the slayer for the next few centuries or so.

Whistler made a big speech about my “selfless sacrifice for the greater good.” I didn’t do it for the greater good or the Powers. They’ve done nothing but screw up my life since day one. I did it for you. You believed in this cause so much that even when faced with a defiant, self-absorbed bitch of a slayer, you didn’t back down. Besides, Kennedy was winning the arm wrestling match and there was no way I was letting her be the last slayer!

Xander’s taking over the Council. Most of the watchers will stay on and train with the girls who continue to fight. Dawn will be returning to Rome next week. She’s been a great help these past few days, but they need her back there. We renamed the library the
‘Rupert Giles Memorial Library.’ Willow even got this neat little plaque with a picture of you cleaning your glasses.”

She sighs heavily and wipes at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. A heart attack, not a demon or a mystical force that they could have fought, had taken the man she loved like a father away. “You meant so much to me and I don’t know if I ever told you that. You did everything you could to make being a Slayer easier on me… though I do wish you hadn’t got quite so friendly with my mother. I hope I can make you proud. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”

Her tears spent, she slowly rose to her feet and nodded back at the vampire behind her. As they slowly walked hand in hand out of the cemetery, Buffy paused and turned back to her watcher. “It’s hard right now and it hurts, but we’ll make it through. Please take care of my baby, Giles, and I know she’ll be fine.”



One Hundred Years Later:

Andrew Hubbard looked up from his reading at the unmistakable creak of the wrought iron gate swinging open. A quick glance at his watch told him it was exactly midnight. He cautiously made his way to the large picture window and glanced out into the dark cemetery. He’d heard the legends stories about the cemetery’s nightly visitors, but had never seen them for himself. His grandfather’s grandfather had been the first to meet the otherworldly duo. They had mysteriously disappeared just before he’d taken over as caretaker a little over two decades ago. He’d heard reverent whispers about the guardians from several other caretakers around the world.

Feeling especially courageous, he ventures out on the porch and waits patiently as two blondes make their way up the path by his house. He feels somewhat disillusioned when they stop in front of his house. The stories depicted them as invincible, fearless warriors yet they seemed as frail as any mortal. “I-I p-planted a new t-tree in your corner,” he stammers nervously. These are the two he’s grown up hearing stories about, stories he then passed on to his own son.

The woman smiles brilliantly and murmurs a polite thank you. She shifts the picnic basket in her hands and inquires about his father. Her companion elbows her in the side and points at the small cluster of gravestones next to the house. She blushes self-consciously and hastily apologizes. Hubbard finds her blush endearing and makes a mental note to take better care of the northwest corner. Now that his heroes are back in town, they grass will need to be cut every week and the flowerbeds watered daily. It is the least he can do. “What are you here for?” he calls out curiously. There have been no vampires in this cemetery for well over fifty years. No one dares step foot on ground protected by The Slayer.

A laughing, cheerful voice calls out as the pair ventures further into their spot. “Family reunion.”





You must login (register) to review.