A stray tear slid down her cheek and she couldn’t prevent a sob bursting from her throat as she leapt an alley to the next rooftop, urgently scanning the way ahead for any sign of the ponderous yellow bus.
As she sped along, her mind constantly replayed their last few moments together:
The confused, hopeless battle against the never-ending stream of Ubervamps… Spike’s sudden urgent cry of, “Buffy!” as the amulet activated, sending a beam of blinding light out across the cavernous space, instantly dusting every ugly monster it touched… Her terrified dash to his side.
“I can feel it, Buffy.”
“What?”
“My soul. It’s really there. It kinda stings.” He gestured behind him towards the steps up which the others had already fled. “Go on, then.”
“No! No, you’ve done enough! You could still…”
“No, you’ve beaten them back. It’s for me to do the cleanup. You know that, Slayer.” He smiled at her sadly. “Looks like it’s that time…”
“Oh God… the prophecy… But I’m not ready!” She grasped his raised hand, entwining their fingers tightly, not turning a hair at the intense stinging sensation as their joined hands burst into ecstatic golden flames, their Bond abruptly more complete than it had ever been before. It clearly showed her his unshakeable determination to finish the job and destroy the Hellmouth once and for all, as had been prophesied. With tears trickling down her cheeks she proudly said, “I love you.”
He turned his head to kiss her lightly on the forehead before lifting his face to bask in the warm morning sunlight streaming down from the hole in the roof, “I know you do, beloved, and you know I love you too.”
She sobbed, “Come back to me…”
“You know I will… Whatever it takes…”
Then came that last heart-wrenching moment when the ground under their feet shook as the roof of the massive cavern began to collapse and they lost their grip on each other, the mystical flames immediately flickering out of existence.
“Now go!” Spike insisted. “You know you have to go on living…”
Buffy ignored the huge boulders tumbling down behind her and unhappily completed the line that would remain imprinted in her memory for eternity, “…So one of us is living…”
Reluctantly accepting the inevitable, she stumbled blindly towards the steps leading up into the school, crying desperately over her shoulder, “Don’t you dare make me wait too long!” … and then all she could think of was how to navigate the collapsed corridors of the school to get out into the open so that she could catch up with the others… and Oh God… how many of them got out safely? Dawnie…”
At last the school bus came into view and she dug deep into her reserves of Slayer stamina to put on a final spurt. Her heart leapt when a shrill cry of “Buffeeeeeeeee!” rose above the deafening noise behind her – Dawn was alive! The joyous relief boosted her flying leap from the roof of the Sun cinema to land with a crash on the bouncing metal surface.
She scrabbled for a hand hold as the bus swerved, the momentum causing her to slide around. With her free hand she managed to secure herself to a protruding rear light so she could at last take a moment to catch her breath.
The bus lumbered on, the roaring engine straining as the driver forced every ounce of acceleration out of the tired old vehicle. Buffy watched helplessly as the familiar buildings continued to collapse like rows of dominoes behind them.
It wasn’t until they’d passed the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign that the thunderous rumbling ceased and the cloud of dust began to drift away to reveal a huge circular hole in the ground where the town that had been her home for nearly seven years had stood.
The bus slewed wildly across the road and came to an abrupt standstill, allowing Buffy to jump wearily down to stand on the reassuringly solid surface of the road. The road to nowhere. She turned and glanced the other way past the bus, realising that it was also the road to the future. The unknown and somewhat scary future.
Then the doors of the bus were thrust open and she was engulfed in Dawn’s surprisingly strong arms as her sister gleefully expressed her relief at her escape from the Hellmouth… and the Slayer’s rare moment of philosophising was forgotten.
She walked slowly ahead of the others towards the rim of the pit and looked down, the excited voices of the people around her fading into vague echoes drowned out by the loud rushing noise in her head.
Small rocks still tumbled intermittently down the steep sides of the sinkhole as the rubble settled. Spike was still down there somewhere. She could feel his exuberant joy as he fulfilled his destiny and for a moment she wished she was down there sharing it with him. A tiny smile flitted across her features as she considered how angry he would have been with her if she’d ruined his dramatic exit and refused to leave and live… for him.
Then suddenly the road came up to meet her and a stricken wail filled the air. She wondered for a moment where the heart-rending sound was coming from, then as her tortured lungs insisted upon taking another breath and the noise paused, she realised it was her. She was making that terrible sound.
Spike was gone.
She was alone.
The harsh reality she’d managed to avoid contemplating since it had become apparent what the outcome of their fight against the First was likely to be, crashed in on her and she collapsed in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably.
She vaguely heard one of the girls asking in confusion, “But why’s she crying? We won and we’re all okay! She should be celebrating, not crying!”
Strong masculine arms enfolded her, lifting her and cradling her against a broad muscular chest. The wrong chest. It was too broad, too warm and too notSpike, so she began to struggle.
Then she recognised Xander’s broken, disapproving tones coming from just above her head, telling the thoughtless girl off. “Yes, we won, but we’re not all okay. If it’s not too much of a foreign concept for you, try having a little sympathy for those of us who’ve lost people we love.”
She was in Xander’s arms. That was all right then, she could relax. She knew she’d be safe with Xander. He’d look after her while she had a little rest… and then everything went peacefully black.
Buffy woke slowly with the nagging feeling that something was very wrong. She explored her senses. The first thing she noticed was that the surface upon which she was lying was very uncomfortable and was moving, but that wasn’t the thing that was troubling her so deeply.
Still without opening her eyes, she concentrated upon her hearing. A motor. She was in a vehicle. That explained the movement. Several hushed voices were coming from nearby, both male and female, and there were many more heartbeats.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the unpleasant musty smell that spoke of long use and unpleasant spills both old and new, including traces of fresh blood.
All of this spelled… school bus.
The memories of the previous few hours came rushing in. Oh, God… Spike! Spike was gone! She couldn’t control a desperate whimper that escaped her lips so she clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the sob that threatened to follow.
She had to stay strong in front of the girls. It was bad enough that they had already witnessed her breakdown at the crater. Now she had to pull herself together and force herself to show a good example of Slayer fortitude.
She took a deep quavering breath to bring herself under control before opening her eyes and sitting up. She just had time to take in the fact that she’d been laid out along the wide back seat when Dawn’s worried face appeared over the back of the seat in front.
Swinging around to sit beside her, she asked, “How are you feeling, Buffy?” Her tone was hushed and sympathetic.
Buffy waved away her concern. “I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t let Dawn get too mushy or she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears and there were more important things to attend to than her grief. “Where are we?”
“About half way to L.A. Giles has decided that after dropping off the injured at a hospital we should…” she attempted an English accent and Giles measured tones, “…prevail upon Angel’s hospitality to give us safe refuge…” she relaxed and resumed her own voice, “…while we work out what to do next.”
Buffy wearily rubbed her hand over her face. “Yeah… that’s a good idea, I guess.”
“Are we gonna stay there until Spike comes back? ‘Cos you know he’s supposed to come back to Angel…”
“I dunno, Dawnie. I don’t know if Angel will want us there. Let’s wait and see what the situation is when we get there, okay?”
She sat back into the corner of the seat, rested her head against the grimy, sun-warmed glass and gazed blindly out at the passing scenery as she absently rubbed at the odd tingling in her left hand. Reluctantly she asked, “Did everyone get out?” already knowing that she wasn’t going to like the answer.
Dawn’s voice caught in her throat as her eyes filled with tears. “We lost Mitsuko and Amanda, and… Oh, Buffy. Anya… Anya didn’t make it to the bus. Vi said she saw her go down…”
Buffy closed her eyes in agony and wrapped her arms around her sister, combing her fingers through her hair soothingly as they both wept for their lost friends. Registering that her left hand seemed to be far more sensitive than usual, she opened her eyes again and noted fresh pink marks on her palm. Then her eyes narrowed as she turned her hand and recognised the conformation of Spike’s grip imprinted between her fingers and over her knuckles.
Then the weird phenomenon was momentarily forgotten as she had a thought and blurted… “Oh God… Poor Giles. First Jenny and now…”
Dawn raised her head and pointed down the aisle to where Giles was driving the bus, his shoulders stiff and jaw set as he concentrated on the road ahead, giving him the perfect excuse to remain remote from the animated young girls crowding the seats and Althanea and Tara who were moving efficiently between them tending to the injured. “He’s being all British and stiff upper lippy, but you can see he’s hurting.”
“And Xander?” Buffy knew that her friend still harboured tender feelings for his former fiancée.
“Trying to cover with silly jokes, as always.”
Their quiet exchange was interrupted by the abrupt appearance of the man in question bearing a small package that he held out to Buffy. “Spike made me promise to give you this as soon as I could, Buffy.”
“Spike? What? But…” Buffy stammered in bewilderment.
“He knew he wouldn’t be coming with us, Buff, and he was okay with it. He gave it to me last night and threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t pass it on as soon as the battle was won and we were safe.”
Buffy reverently turned the brown paper package over in her hands and whispered, “What is it?”
He shrugged. “I dunno, Buff. He just said it might help… you know… with the missage.”
She impulsively ripped the paper and allowed a black object to fall into her lap. Closing her eyes in pleasure, she inhaled the unique scent of Spike. “Oh…” she whispered in wonderment as she unrolled the soft cotton t-shirt that was wrapped around something hard and rectangular, and held it to her nose.
“That’s Spike’s journal!” Dawn cried excitedly, pointing to one of the two leather bound books that had tumbled free, recognising it as the gift she had presented to the vampire for his birthday the previous year. “I dunno what the other one is though.”
Buffy ignored her sister and opened out the piece of folded notepaper she’d found slipped between the two volumes. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of the familiar backwards slanting script and she dashed them away impatiently with the back of her hand so she could read:
My beloved Buffy,
Here is my journal, such as it is, to keep you company until those interfering PTB get their finger out and send me back to you. I’ve told Harris to stick by you and make sure you and Dawn are looked after until I can get back and do the job myself. I hope he keeps his promise, or I’ll be forced to hunt him down and hurt him, something that isn’t as attractive a proposition as it used to be as he’s managed to grow up a bit recently and turned out to be not a bad bloke.
Now then, I know it’s going to be hard on you to keep going until I return to you, it might have been better if we’d waited to do the Claim, but it’s too late to think of that now and things are how they are. You’ll find a second journal, a blank one, in the parcel I’m about to wrap. One for you to fill while you’re waiting. I want you to record your thoughts and feelings, the places you go, the people you meet and the demons you Slay.
I know you hate talking about your feelings but you know you can’t keep it all bottled up inside indefinitely or you’ll explode, so writing everything down will be an emotional release for you and at the same time it’ll make sure I don’t miss anything.
Never doubt that I love you and I’ll come back to you as soon as I possibly can.
Yours, as ever,
Spike
Mopping her tears with the t-shirt, Buffy allowed Dawn to take the letter she had been trying to read upside down and carefully opened Spike’s journal at a random page.
After running a grubby finger tenderly over the untidy scrawl, she read:
Couldn’t find a clean t-shirt to wear today. On my way down to the basement to check if there were any in the dryer, discovered that the new in thing for teenage hormone bombs to wear when slobbing about the house is oversized black t-shirts. Suddenly realised the little girls were all ogling my tight hot bod and instead of flexing and flirting as the Big Bad should, I went all William and fled back upstairs for a button-down. Sodding soul.
Her giggles abruptly turned to sobs and she curled up around the journal, using the t-shirt as a pillow as she quietly cried herself back to sleep.
TBC