He broke down when he saw her body laying on top of the stacks of bricks. The sun was coming up, and for a moment, he didn't care if he dusted. He wouldn't have cared if someone pushed him into a pool of holy water, or set him on flames. Because that one second that his eyes laid on her lifeless body, he felt his world turn to ash. So why shouldn't he turn to ash too? She had warned him that not everyone would make it, but he thought it would have been someone else, or even himself that would die. Not her. He didn't think for one second that would would be her. He wanted to die for not saving her.
But then he saw Dawn. The unshed tears behind her eyes as she stared at her sister's body. Then she dissolved into a fit of sobs and all his death wishes went away. Dawn needed him, he promised Buffy he would take care of her.
He pulled his duster op over his head and ran over to the little girl and held her while she wept, uncaring that his hand was sizzling in the sun. Xander had thrown a tarp over him to cover him from the sun as they made their sorrowful walk back to Giles' house.
Spike had made sure that Dawn was settled, and sat with her while she slept. He had stayed until sundown then he left for his own private grieving process.
Three days later, he was ready. He was going to go to the Summer's house to see to Dawn. He knew it was going to hurt a lot to be there, but he promised her so he would do it.
He got out of his bed and showered, getting rid of the funk he had been living in for the past three days. He dressed then made his way to the place he wanted to be the least.
A puffy eyed Dawn answered the door for him. As soon as he entered and shut the door, Dawn threw herself into his arms and burst into a new wave of tears. He had no clue what to do, so he went with his instinct and just held her. They crumpled to the floor and he rocked them back and forth, whispering soothing words as he stroked her knotted hair. 'Looks like I'm not the only one who decided to skip showering.'
“She's really gone, Spike.” Dawn whispered against his chest and he rocked them.
“I know, pigeon. I know. I'm here though. I'm not your sister, but I won't let anything happen to you, I promise.” He said and brushed the damp strands of hair from her face. She nodded and sniffled, snuggling her cheek further into his chest. “Let's get you into the shower, yeah? Don't want to go to bed all dirty.” He smiled a shy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Dawn nodded again and they stood up. She slipped her hand into his as they made their way up the stairs. He stood by her door as she picked out her pajamas for the night. She grabbed a towel and then headed into the bathroom. “You'll be here when I get out right? Willow and Tara are at Giles' house for the night. Planning the funeral and stuff. I don't want to be alone.” She asked before she closed the door.
Spike was extremely pissed when he heard that Red and Tara left her here alone for the night. That was wrong of them to do. “Yeah, Niblet. I'll be here. I'll stay the night.”
He sniffled and smiled a little, then disappeared behind the bathroom door. Spike let out a long sigh, he was going to talk to Willow and Tara about leaving Dawn alone by herself. After he freaked out on them about leaving the grieving little girl alone first, of course.
Spike turned around and caught a glimpse of Buffy's door. He was frozen in place. He had been in that room many of times, most of them without permission, but he had still been in there. But this was different. He could go in there and be reminded of a girl he was in love with that would never come back... or he could not go in and then kick himself for being a wuss later.
And boy, did he want to go in there.
He wanted to be close to her again. Just one last time. Then, he would never go back in there again. Closure. Yeah, he was getting closure. In and out, that's all.
He stepped closer to the door and looked at the door knob. How many times has Buffy touched it? How many times had she opened this door? Closed it? Slammed it? Locked it? She would never do any of those things again. He had all these thought of Buffy just from looking at her door knob. It was too much, he wasn't ready. Too many thoughts were swimming in his mind and each one tore him up inside.
He turned around and headed for the stairs. Maybe if he watched some telly, it would take his mind off of her. Yeah, he would watch some TV, maybe make himself a cup of warm blood and then he will...
He was half way down the stairs before he groaned. He needed to do this. He wanted to. He wasn't going to chicken out this time. He turned around and stood in front of the door again. Staring at the same door knob. 'You can do this, mate. It's only a room. It's not like she will be on the other side. Just go in, take a look around, smell a couple of her shirts then leave. Easy. Do it!'
He put his hand on the door knob and turned it, giving the door a little push. There, first step completed. Now he just had to go inside. He took a deep unneeded breath and shook shoulders. He took a step inside the door and closed the door behind him. There, he did it. He was inside of her room.
He took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling all of her delicious scents as one tear fell from his eye. God, how he missed that scent. He missed how he would catch a whiff of it while she was fighting, the wind blowing it toward him as he watched her defeat her opponent. Or when she kicked his door open, the gush of air would spread her scent all over his crypt, letting it linger for a couple of hours. Vanilla would never be the same to him again.
He walked around the room, touching little trinkets and bobbles she had adorning the walls and ledges. He came across her desk with a mirror covered with pictures on it. He took his time looking at all of them. There were pictures of her with Dawn and her friends. All at different times and places. But the one he couldn't help but pluck off the mirror, was the only one of them together. She had a picture on her mirror of her and him together. That threw him a little, and it caused him to smile.
They were standing in her back yard at night, both in fighting stances but their heads were thrown back in laughter. He remembered that night, Joyce had taken that photo. They were showing Dawn a quick move that would harm a vampire enough to give her enough time to run away. She was only allowed to do that move if she was cornered, of course, but it was a good move for Dawn to know. He ran his finger down the length of her body in the picture, then slipped it into his pocket.
He turned around and saw her bed. He took the three steps toward it and ran his hands down the soft blankets. He sat down on the side of the bed and lifted up a pillow and placed it on his lap. “Why did you have to go?” he whispered as he fingered the edges of the pillow case.
He sighed and went to put the pillow back in it's spot, but something caught his eye. He stretched his arm out and picked it up. He looked at it for a moment, and then he gasped, his eyes going wide as he realized what it was.
An envelope addressed to him. Buffy wrote him a note before she died?
He turned it around in his hands, flipped the flap open and took the paper out. He gently opened it up, listening to the crinkling noise the paper made as he unfolded it. He looked at the bottom and it said it was from Buffy, but why would she write her last words to him? She was his friend, yeah... but he wasn't Willow or Dawn or Giles. Why would it be addressed to him and not one of them?
He was about to start to read it, when Dawn cleared her throat at the door. “What are you doing?” she asked quietly, wondering why he was in Buffy's room. No one had been in it since she passed.
“Just looking around, is all,” he said and stood up, the envelope fluttered to the floor and he quickly picked it up.
“What's that?” she questioned, motioning to the envelope and paper in his hands, but not daring to enter the room.
“Uh.. it's nothin', just pokin' 'round your big sis' room,” Spike said and turned toward the desk, placing the envelope on it but shoving the paper into his duster pocket.
“Okay... I'm ready for bed now.” She told him and headed for her room, Spike in tow.
“You want me to stay in the room? Or go downstairs?” he was confused on how this would work, but if she needed him, he would do anything to comfort her... within reason.
“Well I was wondering if you would sit in that chair there and maybe tell me why you loved Buffy.”
Spikes hands had been itching to read the letter for about two hours. Dawn was having troubles sleeping, and his throat was sore from speaking for two hours straight about different topics revolving around Buffy.
But Dawn was finally asleep, and he was in the living room, looking at the now crumpled letter. He was still baffled to why she wrote him a letter, but here it was. Time to read it.
He carefully opened it up again, looking at the delicate words written for him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering his courage to read it and then expelled a long breath. He opened his eyes again and began to read.
Dear Spike,
If you are reading this, that means I'm most likely dead. I wouldn't have the guts to give you this letter if I was alive. Anyway, I'm writing this letter for a reason.
Right now, you are downstairs gathering weapons, and you think I am upstairs getting some too. But I came up here to write you this. These feelings have been inside me for a while now, but I never gave voice to them, so here is my chance. If I am dead, I want you to know how I feel about you.
You said something to me earlier. You said: “I know I am a monster, but you treat me like a man.” and you couldn't be more wrong. You're not a monster. I used to believe that you were, but you aren't. You have done so many things for me and Dawn that Angel wouldn't have even done. And you did it all without a soul. You love me without your soul when Angel couldn't. Angel is the monster. You... You are a man. You may be a vampire, but you are more of a man then you are a vampire. You treat me and Dawn like we are precious, and no monster would do that.
Back when you chained me up in your crypt, you asked for a crumb. I told you that you would never have a chance with me, but that was a lie. You had a chance, I was just to big of a scared little girl to tell you. I channeled my anger and used that to lash out at you, when I should have just told you the truth. Because then I would have had a chance to be happy. You would have had a chance to be happy too.
I never allowed you to tell me you loved me, but you showed me through your actions. Everything you have done for me that lead up to this final battle, I thank you for it. It means the world to me that you are helping me. Even when my mother was sick, you were there for me. I had no one, and you came and let me cry on your shoulder without expecting anything in return. That meant a lot to me too.
I have to go now, time is running out... But I want you to know... I want you to know that I love you, Spike. I have loved you since you took that beating for Glory to keep Dawn's secret. I loved you in life, and I will love you in death.
Take care of Dawn for me, she is going to need you now. Make sure she knows that I love her, okay?
Thank you, Spike. My vampire, my man, my love.
Love always,
Buffy
Spike reread the letter again, making sure that the words were actually there and that he didn't imagine it.
When he was done reading it, he folded it up and brought it up to his nose, inhaling her scent again. He took the picture out of his pocket and stared at it as he sat there in shock.
Buffy loved him, and now she was gone.
The words sunk into his mind. She did love him, but he could never have her. Spike's shoulders slumped, clutching the note close to his unbeating heart and he kissed the picture of Buffy.
And then he wept.
The End