Disclaimer 1: I am not now, nor have ever been, Joss Whedon or any of his minions.
Disclaimer 2: The lyrics and the title used are from Marillion’s song, “Gazpacho”. I’m not the writer of those, either.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: BtVS: “The Gift”; AtS: “Over the Rainbow”

A.N. 1: As usual, I was thinking of something else to write and this popped up.

* * * * *

Saw you walking on your velvet lawn
Is it lonely on the moon?

Memories.

It was a cliche to think they were all he had left of her but it was true, so true. The few photos he had of her had been destroyed in an explosion over a year ago. He could still sketch her face but it wasn’t quite the same as seeing an image captured, timeless, her sweet smile, the sunlight in her hair, her change-color eyes reflecting green at that particular moment but just as likely to change to blue or grey or true hazel at the change of her mood or lighting or clothes. And nothing still measured to seeing her, to hearing her voice, catching her scent, feeling her touch, tasting her lips.

There was a gibbous moon overhead, lolling back with stars glittering through the diaphanous clouds. He didn’t spare it a glance, just knew it was there. Being a vampire meant the passing of night to day was important. Knowing the phases of the moon was a sidebar, nothing more. Still, even though the blood that drifted sluggishly through his body was not his own, it still seemed to recognize that tidal pull. It was the moon that governed his time with her, not the sun and even that reflected light had been enough to make her glow.

They said you're bullet proof, they said you feel no pain
It seems the hero is misunderstood again

The first time he’d seen her was in the sunlight and he’d followed her to her first kill that same night; watched her take her opening step into that deadly dance of predator and prey. She was clumsy, awkward, not quite understanding or believing what her Watcher told her. But she grew into the grace that was inherent in her Calling, she took on the mantle of Slayer and it made her its own. It was the thing that brought them together but also brought her loneliness. How could her friends, as close as they were, ever understand what she had to do, what she had to face? Joyce Summers suppressed all knowledge about her daughter, thinking no matter what facts presented themselves that Buffy was just going through a stage. Even after she’d been entrusted with the knowledge of her daughter’s secret life, she never truly believed. She still hoped for Buffy to go beyond what fate had in store for the Slayer and Angel wondered if anyone had ever bothered to explain about what her daughter’s life expectancy was. Her Watcher might have empathized had she ever brought it up—and he knew she had; he’d been there to listen to her say she wouldn’t fight the Master for fear of her own death. What had happened to Buffy during those few short years, to send her from not wanting to die to being willing to sail from a tower?

You took a dive and swallowed all you could
Did you drink too much too soon?

She’d gone through so much with him and so much without and though he knew, beyond even the telling of it, how short her life would probably be, he’d always had hope; hope that she would surprise all of them. Hope that somehow, she would defy all the prophecies and truly live.

He was still dully surprised that it hadn’t happened that way.

He’d driven to Sunnydale to take Willow home, unable to stay away. Too much was caught up in that little town on the Hellmouth, too many things that had happened. All their tears and joy were soaked into that rare atmosphere where the Slayer had walked and talked and loved a man (a demon) all too wrong for her. He wondered what she’d thought as she’d raced off that tower. He’d spoken to Giles, heard her Watcher’s voice go ragged as he recited what the girl he’d come to love as only a father could a daughter said to him. Dawn was nearly catatonic, still unable to even say her sister’s name. He hadn’t seen Xander, knowing only that the boy’s venom would be that much sharper in his loss. He didn’t want to be anyone’s punching bag though he knew he would’ve faced that and more, stood in daylight for a thousand days and endure that agony if it would only bring her back.

Instead he was here, staring at a piece of granite with her name carved into it, with dates and words he was sure would make some people wonder. The flowers he’d bought were a useless gesture, hanging in his hand. She had fought her final battle, made her last decision without considering what it would do to those she’d left behind.

He shivered all over once, the memory of the last time he’d been with her flooding through his senses, her sorrow hanging palpable in the air around them. The words he’d spoken seemed so useless, so far from the truth now that he was on the other side of them. They offered him neither hope nor comfort now that he stood in front of the stone that marked her grave. He wondered if they’d given her any solace when he’d said them. She’d said, he could remember the puff of her words against his cheek, she’d said that he helped just by being there. If he’d stayed, if he hadn’t walked away from her again, would she have jumped? Would she have found another way? Would she have had the strength to live or was he fooling himself, tormenting himself with maybes and ifs and what might have beens?

Did living in this world where she was the one chosen to fight against the demons and darkness finally beat her down until she saw no other option?

Nothing left for you to fight about
And no-one wants to see you try
The nearest neighbours are a mile away
Does the ocean hear you cry?

Hundreds of years before, the natives of this land chased their prey over cliffs, sending them tumbling down to the ground below. Did her thoughts, her beliefs, did her dreams turned nightmare stampede her over that tower’s edge? He couldn’t help but wonder, was she frightened so high in the air? As she took that last step in her deadly dance, did her heart thump in her throat? Were her hands cold? Did she give herself time to think, did she think (oh, selfish) of him as she ran into the air?

Was it worth it, giving back his life to give her less than two years?

His body shook in horror at the idea but now that it was brought up, he could think of nothing else. If he’d kept humanity, would she have died sooner or would it have given her a reason to go on, to think of another way than jumping? And if he’d told her what Wesley had found out, about the prediction that he could possibly be alive one day, would she have leaped anyway?

Send feedback to S. J. Smith

Back to the Fanfiction Archive