Summary: A retelling of Spike and
Buffy's first meeting. Starts in early
season 2. For the purpose of the
story, Angel does not exist and Spike
is a little....different.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: Love some, Thanks!
Part Fifteen
"Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared 'neath the stars above
For a moment, all the world was right
How could I know, that you'd ever say goodbye"
~~~~~
Buffy's life officially fell apart on the day Joyce Summers
returned from New York.
She had spent more than a few sleepless hours trying
to come up with a way to introduce William to her mother.
She'd considered and rejected several different scenarios
based on her "I met him at school" platform. That was going
to be difficult to pull off, because he really didn't have any-
thing in common with the boys she usually dated.
Buffy couldn't say he was a student, because he simply
looked too old for it. And if she said he was a teacher,
her mother would no doubt have him arrested. An older
brother of a school friend would be too difficult to back up,
since none of her friends knew he existed at this point.
In the end, she decided to tell her mother a carefully
edited and selective version of the truth, and hope she
wouldn't be too freaked when Buffy told her he was only
23.
The airport limo dropped Joyce off at the house at
5:30. After a suitably mushy homecoming, Buffy told
her mom that she had made a date for that evening before
she knew that Joyce would be coming home that day.
Joyce was suffering from a monstrous case of jet lag, and
she encouraged Buffy not to break the date on her account,
because all she planned to do that night was take a hot
bath, then crawl into bed and sleep for three days.
Sunset came and went, with no sign of William. Joyce
stayed awake as long as she could, but threw in the
towel at 9:00, and went to bed.
Buffy kissed her mother goodnight, then stationed her-
self on the sofa, trying to fight off the fear induced
nausea churning in the bottom of her stomach.
At midnight, she finally accepted the fact that he wasn't
coming and went to bed.
She lay awake most of the night, trying to come up with
a plausible reason for William's non-appearance.
It was completely unlike him not to show up when he'd
promised to, and certainly if he couldn't show, he would
have called her. Only something serious could have
kept him from contacting her, and it terrified her to think
of all the possibilities.
Perhaps he had been badly injured in some way, badly
enough to harm a vampire. Or maybe, Drusilla had found
out about his "marriage" and had killed him in a jealous
rage.
The only other thing she could come up with was the
worst of all...maybe he was finally tired of her, and had
returned to his former mate.
Towards dawn, she finally fell asleep, but it was a thin
and restless sleep and it didn't refresh her in any way.
As she sat at the kitchen table, forcing herself to eat
a bowl of cereal, she considered going to look for him,
before she remembered that she had no idea where he
lived.
The weekend crawled by, and Monday morning found her
all cried out. She went to school, drifting through her
classes with depressed disinterest. After the final bell,
she presented herself in the library for some hand to
hand training, keeping a carefully phony facade of hap-
piness and willingness to learn.
When they were finished, she turned down Willow and
Xander's offer of some quality time at the Bronze, and
ran home.
Before she went into the house, she stopped at the curb
and opened the mailbox. The only thing it contained was an
envelope addressed to her.
With shaking hands, she removed it from the box and
studied it. It was a thick, cream colored vellum envelope,
and it looked very expensive. Her name was written in an
elegantly old fashioned style.
Buffy didn't want to open it. She knew that whatever was
inside the envelope was something she wouldn't want to
know about. Her palms became sweaty and she felt a
large lump forming in her throat as she plodded upstairs to
her bedroom.
Locking the door, she sat down on the bed and slid her
finger between the flap and the back of the envelope. Her
movements were slow and deliberate, and she wished
desperately that something would happen right now to
keep her from going any further. She wanted the phone to
ring, or someone to knock on the front door...anything, as
long as she could put this off.
A half an hour later, she reached in and extracted a single
sheet of paper, folded over. It was of the same beautiful
parchment as the envelope and she could see the swirls
and loops of her name etched in black ink.
Buffy took a deep breath and unfolded the paper.
~~~~~
"And now, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end
The way it all would go..."
~~~~~
As she read the letter, tears formed in her eyes. A dull
ache began somewhere in the region where she judged
her heart to be.
Dearest Buffy...
Before you begin reading this, I want you
to know that what I'm about to tell you has
nothing to do with my feelings for you, or
about you being the slayer.
You're very beautiful and very sweet, and the
time that we've spent together has been all
a man could want or ask for in life. You've
been the sunshine in my eternal darkness,
Angelface, and I will always treasure you for
it. I'm already miles away from you, and my
arms ache to hold you and never let go.
But, darling, I have responsibilities that I can't
set aside. Someone is counting on me, so I
have to go and deal with the realities of it.
I love you so much, Angelface, and I wish you
a long and happy life. Please be careful in
everything you do. I don't want to think of a
world without you in it. I want you to be safe
and warm and cared for. I only wish that I could
be the man who keeps you that way forever.
I'm so sorry that I have to tell you this in a letter,
but I know that if I were to see you...to look into
your lovely eyes...I wouldn't have the strength or
the will to go.
I love you, sweetheart. I love you very much. Always
remember that. I will love you until the day I no longer
exist on this planet, and even beyond that as well.
Take care of yourself, my love. Live...for me.
All my love forever,
William
Buffy had believed that she had no more tears left
inside of her.
She knew now that she'd been horribly wrong.
Dropping the letter on the bed, she rolled over and
buried her face in her pillow and cried harsh, pain-
ful tears that made her chest ache and her throat
raw.
She cried for hours...for days...forever....
~~~~~
"And now, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end
The way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance..."
Part Sixteen
"Holding you, I held everything
For a moment, wasn't I a king
But if I'd only known how the king would fall
Hey, who's to say, you know I might have changed it all.."
~~~~~
Spike stood on the terrace overlooking the orchard,
watching as a fat yellow moon rose in the sky.
He had been on Isla Nueva for almost three weeks
now, and he didn't like it anymore than he had the
first night they had arrived.
Oh, the grounds were spectacular, and the castle
itself was magnificent, thoroughly befitting the warlock
who owned it. But for all it's beauty, the whole place
left him cold and uninterested, because it was lack-
ing the one thing that would make it heaven on earth.
Buffy...his sweet, shy little child bride. If she were here
with him, he would be content to stay forever.
The pain of missing her was almost physical. Leaving
Sunnydale had felt like hacking off a limb and being left
to slowly bleed to death.
The first cut had been shallow. He had received it the
morning he'd returned in response to Luke's increasingly
panicky messages.
Before he'd even gotten to the front door, he had known that
he would find trouble inside. He'd heard Drusilla screaming
all the way out in his car.
When he'd gotten inside, he had stared around in shock
at the mess he'd found.
Every window in the house had been shattered. The furniture
had been hacked at by what looked like a fire ax. There was
a pile of books in the foyer, or what was left of them after they'd
been doused in lighter fluid and torched.
Upstairs was a hellish scene. The vamps he'd taken on as
hired help were being held at bay by their mistress. Fearsome
creatures they all might be in their own right, but each and
every one of them was frightened out of their meager wits by
Drusilla.
She stood on one side of her bedroom, throwing everything
she could lay her hands on at them. Everything that wasn't
nailed down became a missel lobbed straight at them; pic-
tures on the wall, bric-a-brac, books...anything at all.
He'd had to admit, she'd been a frightening sight. Her hair
was a mass of tangles, and her fingers were bent like claws.
She had scratched and cut herself, and there were ribbons
of blood running over her like a macabre road map.
She'd been shrieking accusations and epithets at them all,
singling them out individually for the punishments they would
receive when "her Spike" came home.
"Caroline" would have her hair torn out at the roots, for
accidentally snagging Dru's when she'd been brushing her
hair for her.
"Samuel" would have his fingers and toes chopped off one
by one for bringing her the wrong pair of shoes.
"Dalton" would have his eyes plucked from his head, be-
cause he had been "looking at her strangely."
"Benjamin" would have hot pokers jammed in his ears
until they popped through his brain, for talking about her
behind her back.
"Luke" would be chopped into small pieces, for no reason
at all except that she didn't like him.
They would all die horrible deaths, she'd screamed, because
they'd been deceiving her, keeping secrets from her, and keep-
ing Spike away from home on nonsensical errands.
By the time he'd managed to sedate her and put her to bed,
the entire household had been packed and ready to leave.
Although once he would have killed them all for their
disloyalty, something inside of him had changed. He didn't
want to be there anymore than they did, and they didn't
HAVE to be.
When the house was settled down, only Dalton and Luke
remained. The three of them sat in the library, drinking
steadily to calm their shattered nerves.
Luke had shot him several accusatory looks, but hadn't
had the balls to actually say anything, or ask him where
he'd been spending so much time lately.
Dalton had sensed the tension in the room and tried
to smooth it over with what he claimed was good news.
"Good news," Spike muttered, a little bitterly as he
watched an owl dive out of the sky and scoop up a field
mouse.
It hadn't been good news to him. It had been the most
horrible fucking news of his life. Dalton had finally managed
to locate the one individual who had any hope at all of
curing Drusilla. Only hitch was, he lived at the very southern-
most tip of South America, on a tiny island off the coast of
Tierra del Fuego.
Then the news got worse.
Dalton had informed him that he'd taken the initiative and
booked passage for them on an outgoing cargo ship. He'd
arranged for them to meet up with an old friend in La Paz,
Mexico. This old friend owned a very luxurious yacht, per-
fectly outfitted for vamps, as he was one himself.
The four of them would board the yacht at midnight, then
cruise along to their final destination. The problem was,
they had to be at the Port of Los Angeles that very night,
which meant they had to leave immediately.
Spike had raged at them for this. He couldn't leave that
night. He had to see Buffy, to tell her what was happening.
There was no goddamn way he was leaving Sunnydale with-
out saying goodbye to his bride.
But, in the end, both Dalton and Luke had made him face
the fact that he had no choice. Dru was getting steadily worse,
and soon there might be no helping her at all. If they were
gonna go...then they had to go now!
He'd sat in the backseat of the car that night, Dru's head in
his lap as she slept, unaware of anything going on around her.
The entire packing up of the car and transferring her into it had
been done without her waking.
As he'd watched the miles fly by, he had tried to compose a
proper letter to Buffy. He'd begun and torn up three of them where
he'd told her he had every intention of returning to her as soon as
he could.
Apologizing profusely for abandoning her so abruptly, he had
promised her the sun, the moon, and the stars when he returned.
He would bring her beautiful clothes and jewels, including a ring
with a three carat diamond to grace her tiny hand.
When he came back, he told her, the first thing they would do
would be to find a new house. He didn't want to bring her to
the one he'd been renting. This was a fresh new life, and she
deserved a house of her own. They would look for one together,
and he would give her carte blanche to decorate it any way she
liked.
Then, after he'd seen to it that she had proper driving lessons,
he would buy her any car she chose. Reading that back to him-
self, he'd chuckled. Maybe it would be better, and safer, to pro-
vide her with a driver for the times when she wanted to go out
during the day.
He promised her that he would meet her mother and all her
friends, and he would help her break the news to them that her
husband was a vampire. It wouldn't be easy for her, and he was
fairly certain that they would all want to stake him on sight, es-
pecially her watcher.
But he would do whatever he had to do in order to spend the
rest of his time on this earth with Buffy, even to the extent of
living on packaged blood or blood obtained at a butcher shop.
And, if her first experience was anything to judge by, he knew
that Buffy would allow him a taste of slayers blood once in a
while.
~~~~~
"And now, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end
The way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance.."
~~~~~
He'd had every intention of mailing that letter. Had
actually been standing in front of a mailbox, ready
to drop it in, when his attention was caught by the
sound of a child laughing.
Turning around, he saw a small family consisting of
a mother, a father, and a little girl who couldn't be
more than five years old.
The three of them walked along side-by-side, the
child in between her parents, holding both their
hands.
She was a beautiful little girl, and the first thought
that came to him was "My, God...she looks like
Buffy."
Long, light brown braids...large expressive
eyes...and an air of innocence as she bounced
happily along, obviously enjoying the fun of
being out so late at night.
As they passed by him, Spike could hear the
parents talking about the outings they had plan-
ned. Tomorow, the beach. After that, the zoo.
He frowned. For some reason, the sight of
the little tableau made him uncomfortably sad.
Watching them walk along, he tried to analyze
just what there was about this family unit that
was making him react in this manner.
Realization came to him, followed by the reality
of the situation sinking in, possibly for the first
time since he'd set eyes on Buffy.
This was what Buffy should be doing a few years
down the road, mothering a child, married to a man
capable of taking her and their child out into the
sun to play.
As long as HE was in her life taking up room, it
was something she would never have.
So, reluctantly, he tore the letter in half and con-
signed it to the first trash can he came across.
"Fuck, this hurts," he said, returning to the car,
and to Drusilla, and to a future he no longer cared
anything about.
~~~~~
"Yes, our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance..."
~~~~~
Part Seventeen
Who Wants To Live Forever?
~~~~~
"There's no time for us
There's no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams
Yet slips away from us..."
~~~~~
The moon hung lower in the sky, and he could feel
a light breeze that brought the scent of citrus from
the orchard.
Although he wasn't big on self inflicted pain, he reached
into the inner pocket of his coat and brought out the
photograph that Buffy had given him.
Tracing her delicate features with one fingertip, he could
almost feel her standing beside him. If he concentrated
hard enough, he could hear her laughter and even
feel the warmth of her skin.
Spike sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, angelface," he whis-
pered. "I'm so sorry. I never should have gone anywhere
near you. We just weren't meant to be for each other."
If he had just left town that night, the night he met her,
she wouldn't be in pain now. This was his fault. He
deserved the punishment and the pain...but she didn't.
Looking ahead, all he could see was an empty void
of years without her. Used to be, he'd considered immor-
tality to be a wonderful thing. Now, all it was to him was
living fucking forever without the girl he loved.
How was he going to manage it? And what if she found
someone else? As much as he would try to be happy
for her, he knew damn well he wouldn't be. He'd be furious
and savagely jealous. Even the thought of another man
with her was like a dull knife digging into his gut.
~~~~~
"Who wants to live forever?"
~~~~~
"Spike?"
Drusilla's voice floated out onto the balcony.
"Coming, luv." He shoved the picture back into
his pocket and stepped through the terrace doors.
She was sitting up in bed, her hair mussed and
her eyes sleepy.
"Feeling better?" he asked, forcing a smile as he
sat down beside her.
"Somewhat," she replied. "Did you see her out there?"
Lowering his eyes, he asked, "See who, princess?"
Dru shook her head slowly, her eyes drifting shut. "I
can see her. Her face is filled with tears. She cries and
cries, and begs for things she can never have."
"Who are you talking about?" he asked again, his voice
a little shaky.
"She's not being careful, you know." Dru smiled and snapped
her teeth. "Foolish babies take foolish chances." Her
eyes opened and she looked into his. "Not to worry, precious,"
she said sweetly. "It won't hurt much longer."
Spike tried to force an explanation out of her, but she
just reclined back into her pillows and refused to say another
word.
~~~~~
"Who wants to live forever?"
~~~~~
Down in the library, he poured brandy into a
cut crystal glass with shaking hands. Dru's cryptic
words kept echoing in his ears.
"Her face is filled with tears. She cries and cries,
and begs for things she can never have..."
She had to be referring to Buffy. Which meant she
knew about Buffy. How long she had known was
anyone's guess.
It made his heart ache to have his fears about the
slayer confirmed. And they had definitely been con-
firmed. Dru was a little off the beam, but her visions
were always spot on. If she said that Buffy was
crying and begging to have him back...that's exactly
what was happening.
But as much as that image bothered him, her next
words were the really frightening ones.
"She's not being careful, you know. Foolish babies
take foolish chances."
There was only one kind of foolish chance that Buffy
could be taking. If Dru was right, and she always was,
then Buffy was behaving recklessly when she went out
at night to do her job. Taking risks she had no business
taking. Opening herself up to being hurt, or even....
He threw the alcohol down his throat, relishing the burn-
ing path it took through his system. Refilling his glass, he
lowered himself into the huge wing chair by the fireplace.
"Not to worry precious. It won't hurt much longer."
It won't hurt WHO much longer? And why? Was this
Dru's way of telling him that Buffy was going to get over
him, and would no longer be hurt by his leaving?
Or, was she saying that soon Buffy would be completely
out of pain, any kind of pain, because she would be....
~~~~~
"When love must die..."
~~~~~
The crystal in his hand shattered under his squeezing
fingers and sliced into his palm. The brandy mingled
with his blood, and dripped steadily onto the floor be-
tween his feet.
He wanted to go back. More than he'd ever wanted
anything in his life, he wanted to be back in Sunnydale
with Buffy. Taking her to carnivals, making her eat dinner,
teaching her to drive, making love to her.
If there was one thing that he knew without a bit
of doubt, it was that he could not go through eternity
and never make love to Buffy again. She was his mate...
his wife, and there wasn't a chance in hell that he was
going to let some other man lay claim to her.
What they'd had together was wonderful, but it wasn't
enough. He had to have more. He WOULD have more.
~~~~~
"There's no chance for us
It's all decided for us
This world has only one sweet moment
Set aside for us..."
~~~~~
"You look pensive tonight."
Spike was standing at the bathroom sink, wrapping
his hand in cotton gauze until the cuts closed over.
Lysander edged a little further into the room, looking
over Spike's shoulder. "I'm afraid to ask what she
threw at you this time."
Spike shook his head. "It wasn't Dru. I broke a glass
downstairs."
He knew he sounded curt, but he didn't feel like going
into the whys and wherefors with his host. For all his
enormous power with dark magic, Lysander fancied him-
self some sort of frustrated therapist and would quiz him
endlessly on the hidden meaning behind his accident.
But, he was grateful to the warlock. He had opened his
home to them, and was diligently working to perfect a
cure for Drusilla. He was currently keeping her stable by
giving her an elixer he concocted from certain plants he'd
been cultivating in a large greenhouse.
Lysander had a bit of "mad scientist" in him. He had a
well stocked lab in what was once the dungeon of his
castle, and he spent hours in it, mixing and measuring,
adding an ingredient here, subtracting it there, replacing
it with something else.
It was helping Dru, but it wasn't curing her.
Now, he looking at Spike speculatively. "I don't wish to
seem as though I'm complaining," he said. "But I get
the feeling that you'd rather be somewhere else these
days."
Spike just shrugged, fiddling with the gauze. "I'm fine,"
he insisted. "If I wanted to be somewhere else, then I
would be."
"I'm not so sure," Lysander replied, then abruptly changed
the subject. "Drusilla said something very interesting
earlier."
"Yeah? Do tell," Spike muttered.
"She said you no longer care for her."
Spike denied it immediately. "That's not true. Don't
believe half of what you hear her say. In fact, don't
believe ANY of it."
Lysander narrowed his eyes. "Then YOU tell me,"
he said. "What do you feel for her?"
"I...love her, okay?" Spike said impatiently. "I do."
"And yet...you've relinquished your claim on her."
Spike's eyes darted away. "How did you know that?"
The warlock smiled. "You have the scent of another woman
on you. It's quite obvious that you're unhappy being here,
and you barely speak to Drusilla, let alone touch her."
He stepped closer and dropped his voice as he touched
the outside of Spike's coat, right at the place where Buffy's
pictured was pocketed. "You carry her image here. And
here," he added, moving his hand over Spike's heart. "How
long can you go on like this, young one?"
~~~~~
"Who wants to live forever?"
~~~~~
Spike pulled away. "Mind your own business, warlock,"
he warned. "And do what you're being paid for."
Lysander seemed about to say more on the subject,
but the look on Spike's face changed his mind.
"Yes. As to that," he said, "tell me this...do you know who
sired Drusilla?"
Spike frowned. "Yeah, why?"
Ignoring the question, Lysander said, "Tell me."
"Some poncy git in London. Used to get his rocks off by
pretending to be a priest. Kept going after the novices, grab-
bing them in the confessionals."
"Tsk...is nothing sacred to you vampires?" Lysander
asked, shaking his head.
"Turned fourteen of them before he got hold of Dru." Spike
leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his
chest. "So, why do you ask?"
"Does he still live?" Lysander asked. "In YOUR sense of
the word, I mean."
"I think so," Spike replied. "Why?" he asked again.
The warlock shrugged his shoulders. "He is the answer,
my friend. The key to your cage."
Spike felt a jolt of energy race up and down his spine. "The
key to....what do you mean?"
Lysander's face never changed expression. "Find
him...bring him...and you can fly."
~~~~~
"But touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips
And we can have forever
And we can love forever
Forever is our today..."
~~~~~
Part Eighteen
When You Remember Me
~~~~~
"When you remember me
If you remember me
I hope you see, it's not the way
I want it to be
Or I'd be with you now
But wherever you go
My love goes with you..."
~~~~~
Time passed, as it inevitably does, but her wounds
remained as fresh and painful as they'd been the
day she'd received them.
Buffy had tried to get her life back on track. She'd re-
connected with her friends, attempted to buckle down
at school and improve her grades, and went out and
performed her nightly tasks with a zealous passion
that bordered on recklessness.
Up until now, she had never imagined that such pain
was even possible. Every morning when she woke up,
she was assaulted by it all over again.
The first couple of weeks had been horrible beyond
bearing. Her appetite all but disappeared, and she
couldn't sleep for more than fifteen minutes at a time.
When she did manage to drop off, her sleep was plagued
with nightmares that made her wake up screaming.
She had begun cutting classes, spending her days
wandering aimlessly around town. One morning, she
had taken the bus all the way out to the beach where
they had made love. Sitting on the lifeguard tower, shi-
vering in the cold breeze, she had cried intermittently,
all day long.
Sometimes, she was sure she heard him talking
to her, apologizing for having to leave her, and begging
her not to cry anymore...telling her how much he still
loved her...would always love her.
~~~~~
"Keep on smiling
Keep on shining
Even though you know you want to cry
I tried to love you
Looking in my eyes
You saw promises and lies
Too many times...."
~~~~~
It hadn't taken long for her mother to figure out
what was wrong, and when she did, she employed
a series of attempted cures all the way from tender
consolation to tough love.
Buffy had responded to none of it, until Joyce had
threatened to put her in the hospital for treatment if
she lost one more pound.
She'd presented herself at school the very next day.
After the last bell had gone off, she had collared Willow
and Xander, and the three of them had gone to the library
to see Giles.
Once there, she had given them a halting explanation
of what had happened to her, leaving out the fact that
the man who had effectively broken her heart was a
vampire. She kept the more intimate details to herself,
not because she was ashamed of them, but because
they were simply too personal to share, even with her
best friends.
All three of them had been kind and consoling, and
promised to do anything they could to make her heart
heal a little faster.
Xander, being Xander, had gone to the absurd length
of offering to track down her errant lover and "pound
him into the dirt" for hurting her so. If she hadn't been
so unhappy, she would have laughed herself silly
at the idea of Xander taking on William.
Gradually, she had begun to come out of the blackest
of her depression. She had forced herself to eat, until her
appetite began to return on it's own, and she replaced the
weight she had lost.
Then, she had thrown herself into her training schedule
with a fervor she'd never shown before, hoping to tire
herself out enough to allow her to sleep through the night.
After serving two solid weeks of detention, she had
apologized to her teachers and then spent her evenings
trying to make up the work she had missed.
But, she turned down every boy who asked her out,
unable to work up even the smallest interest in any type
of romance. None of the boys in her school could even
begin to compare to William, and the thought of being
kissed or touched intimately by one of them made her
slightly nauseous.
Buffy simply couldn't forget about him. She could force
herself not to think about him for a time, but he always
came back into her mind and her heart...a place she
feared he would own forever.
~~~~~
"When you remember me
If you remember me
I hope you see, it's not the way
I want it to be
Or I'd be with you now
But, wherever you go
My love goes with you..."
~~~~~
Willow and Xander tried to include her in their
plans, but they were both getting involved in relationships
that were quickly changing from casual dating to going
steady. It made Buffy feel more like an outsider than
ever.
But, she liked the two new people in her friend's lives
well enough, and she worked hard at being sincerely
happy that they'd all found each other.
Oz, she liked very much. Funny and good natured, but
also soft spoken and a little mysterious, Buffy thought
of him as a secret that was searching for the right person
to reveal itself to.
And he adored Willow, which was what Buffy liked the
most about him.
The new girl in Xander's life was a real surprise.
She had only known Cordelia for a couple of years,
but Xander and Willow had a slight history with her.
None of them had really liked her much before, her
OR the group of shallow, mean spirited girls she
associated herself with.
But, much to Buffy's amazement, she seemed to be
changing. Still fairly shallow, but no longer so completely
stuck up and cruel, she had begun to fit into their inner
circle, helping them, even though she complained about
it every step of the way.
As Buffy moved through her days and nights, she couldn't
help notice that nearly everyone in Sunnydale was paired
up with someone else. Spring fever had arrived, bringing
with it warm, breezy days and cool nights.
Even in her own immediate galaxy, romance was at
an all time high. Besides Willow and Xander, Giles
was still dating Miss Calender, and her mother...HER
MOTHER!...was seeing some artist who'd had a recent
showing at her gallery. Buffy couldn't remember ever
feeling so completely alone.
~~~~~
"I'll be with you
Keep believing
Some things even time can't come between
And if you blame me, try and realize
There were promises and lies
Too many times.."
~~~~~
Sitting in her English lit. class one afternoon, she
struggled to concentrate on the words her teacher was
saying, but more and more, she found herself staring
out the window.
All she could think about was him. Where he was. What
he was doing. And whether or not he still loved her at all, or
had taken up with Drusilla again and was.....
Her thoughts were abruptly cut off when her hair was
yanked from behind. She turned in her seat to glare at
Xander, rubbing the side of her head. "What was THAT
for?" she hissed.
"MISS SUMMERS!"
Buffy swiveled back around and saw Mrs. Calvin staring at
her with an angry light in her eye. She swallowed hard,
and heard Xander whisper "Read page nineteen."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Have you been paying attention?"
Buffy nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Really?" Mrs. Calvin asked, rolling her eyes. "Then you
know what I just said?"
"Yes...um. Page nineteen?" Buffy glanced down at her
book, surprised to see that she was still on page eight. How
long had she been zoning out?
Looking irritated, her teacher gestured for her to
continue.
Not wanting to be seen turning to the correct page, Buffy
casually nudged her book onto the floor. "I'm sorry," she
murmured.
Her teacher rolled her eyes again, and sighed heavily.
Scooping up her book, Buffy flipped to page nineteen, cleared
her throat, and began to read out loud...
"What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower..."
Tears blurred the page as she read the final lines.
"We will grieve not, rather find strength in what is
left...behind."
"Very nice," Mrs. Calvin said. "Now, what do you think
Wordsworth was..." Her question was cut off by the
blare of the dismissal bell. "All right everyone, we'll
continue this on Monday, and remember, your short
essays are due next Friday."
Out in the corridor, Xander caught up with her as
she headed for her locker. "Hey...are you okay, Buff?"
"Yeah," she replied, working the combination lock. "Thanks
for the save in there."
"No problem," he assured her, smiling. "You, umm...want
to go and grab some chow? Lunch was mystery meat and
green glop, and I see enough of THAT as it is, so..."
Buffy shut her locker and gave him a half-hearted smile. "No
thanks. I'm gonna go on home and try to get a nap in before
the nightly festivities begin."
"You patrolling tonight?"
She sighed. "As ever."
"Want some company?"
Buffy considered it for a moment, then shook her head. "I
don't know. I'll call if I do, but don't wait around for me."
Xander still looked concerned. "If you want to talk, I can..."
Buffy wanted no part of the discussion she sensed was
coming. "I'll see you later," she interrupted, then merged
in with a crowd of kids heading for the exit.
She walked home slowly, trying to quell the emotions
that were threatening to spill over and make her cry,
wondering if she would ever be able to let him go.
~~~~~
"When you remember me
If you remember me
I hope you see, it's not the way
I want it to be
Or I'd be with you now
But wherever you go
My love goes with you"
~~~~~
Part Nineteen
"Find strength in what is left behind...sure I will. No
problem."
Buffy turned the corner on to Revello Drive.
"And what do you think Wordsworth means by this,
Miss Summers?" she asked, mimicking her teacher
in a nasty tone. "Like I care what he means, anyway."
She cut across the neighbor's front yard and into her
own, fumbling in her purse for her keys.
Her mother's car wasn't in the driveway, so she didn't
call out her customary "Hi, Mom!" when she walked
into the house.
Instead, she went into the kitchen and opened a can of
Pepsi. She grabbed a bag of chocolate chip cookies,
taking advantage of the fact that there was no one there
to scold her about the detrimental effects that her snack
was liable to have on her complexion, not to mention her
teeth.
Upstairs in her bedroom, she changed into a t-shirt and
an old pair of paint stained sweat pants. Gathering her
messy hair into a clip, she took a look at herself in her
mirror and stuck out her tongue at the reflection.
She looked awful, but she couldn't have cared any less
if she'd tried. There was no one around to look pretty
for these days.
Flopping down on her bed, she switched on the radio,
then opened the bag of cookies as she listened to
a commercial tell her that she needed to switch her long
distance carrier before another day went by.
Seven commercials and half a bag of cookies later, the
station announced it's call letters. "Yuck," she said,
scowling and wrinkling her nose. "Oldies but not neces-
sarily goodies."
Glancing around the room, she noticed that it looked a
little neater than she had left it, and deduced that "Mom"
had struck.
Every great once in a while, whenever she got tired of
nagging Buffy to clean up her room, her neat freak mother
would take a shot at it herself. Books were picked up off
the floor and returned to their home on the shelf, the bed
was made, her favorite stuffed animals were lined up in a
tidy row on another shelf, and her overflowing clothes ham-
per was empty.
Joyce must have turned on the radio as she straightened
up the room, and had changed the station from the one
Buffy preferred.
As she reached for the radio, intending to tune it back
where she wanted it, a song she didn't recognize began to
play, stopping her hand in mid-air.
"I thought that dreams belonged to other men
Cause each time I got close, they'd fall apart again
I feared my heart would beat in secrecy
I faced the nights alone
Oh, how could I have known
That all my life I only needed you..."
As she listened to the song, sadness and hurt began
to take a slow stranglehold on her throat.
"Almost paradise
We're knocking on heaven's door
Almost paradise
How could we ask for more.."
Buffy sniffled, wiping eyes that were suddenly filled
with tears on the back of her hand.
"I swear that I can see forever in yours eyes
Paradise..."
Her mother had managed to tune in the 'All love songs-
all the time' station. The twenty-four hour, makes you
want to stick your head in the oven and turn on the gas,
love song station.
"It seems like perfect love's so hard to find
I'd almost given up
You must have read my mind.."
She pressed one hand over her heart, breathing hard. This
was unbearable. Almost physically painful.
"And all those dreams I saved for a rainy day
They're finally coming true
I'll share them all with you
Now we hold the future in our hands..."
Buffy closed her eyes tightly. She tried not to see him,
not to imagine him lying here beside her, as he'd done
so many times. The ache in her heart grew steadily
worse, but she couldn't make herself do what she knew
was the sensible thing to do in these situations...turn off
the damn radio!
Her brain told her to do it, but her heart stepped in and
over ruled it.
"Almost paradise
We're knocking on heaven's door
Almost paradise
How could we ask for more..."
She wanted to scream, to cry, to throw the radio across
the room and smash it to pieces.
"I swear that I can see forever in your eyes
Paradise..."
But all she could do was sit on her bed, her arms wrap-
ped tightly around herself, rocking slightly back and
forth as soft whimpers escaped from her tightly compres-
sed lips.
"And in your arms, salvation's not so far away
We're getting closer, closer every day..."
No. No, it wasn't true. Each day that passed did no-
thing but pull them farther apart.
She didn't even know where he was. The letter she'd
received had been post marked in Los Angeles, but that
told her nothing, except that he'd passed through long
enough to drop it in a mailbox.
"Almost paradise
We're knocking on heaven's door
Almost paradise
How could we ask for more
I swear that I can see forever in your eyes
Paradise...."
By the time the song ended, she was swallowing hard
lumps of pain, giving herself a headache from the
strain of trying to control her natural instinct to break
down and scream herself senseless.
Now she knew that the hurt wasn't really getting any
better. All she had been doing over these endless
days and nights was covering it up, burying it in a
grave packed down with nothing more substantial
than shifting sand.
This wasn't fair. She wanted to wail the words to
the skies, like a spoiled child. Not fair! Not fair! Not
fair!
Everytime she thought she could see a glimmer of
light at the end of this black, black tunnel, something
blindsided her. A poem...a song...the scent of roses...
seeing a man with a faint resemblance...all these
things could pounce on her unexpectedly, sending
her right back to where she'd started.
Sometimes, when it was particularly bad, she almost
wished that he'd never come to Sunnydale. Before
he'd walked into her life, she'd been fairly happy with
the way it was going, and her heart had been in one
unbroken piece.
She'd read about love and heartbreak, but she'd never
experienced either of those things. All she had ever
done was daydream and imagine and giggle with
her friends over what it would be like to fall in love.
Now, she had known the reality of it, and she'd dis-
covered the hard way that memory was much better
equipped to torture her than imagination had ever been.
Rolling off the bed, she grabbed a handful of tissue
from the box on her vanity table, glaring at herself
in the mirror.
She looked like living hell. Runny nose, red eyes,
black streaks of mascara staining her cheeks from
when she'd rubbed her eyes.
"Bet he wouldn't think I'm pretty now," she said,
tossing the wadded up tissue into a waste basket.
She turned off the radio before another song came
along to finish the job that the previous one had
started, then stood at the window and watched the
sun go down.
It was time to go to work.
Buffy pulled her weapons bag out from under the
bed, then took another cookie out of the package. Hold-
ing it between her teeth, she struggled into a jacket
with it's sleeves turned inside out, as she made her
way down the stairs.
With one hand on the doorknob, she glanced out of
the corner of her eye at a stack of mail on the stupid
and pretty much useless little table next to the front
door.
She froze into a solid block of ice when she saw
another one of those fancy envelopes, addressed to
her in familiar handwriting.
Her hands were shaking as she opened the envelope
and pulled out the paper inside. There was a much shorter
message written on it this time. Only two lines....