Spike squinted at the canvas and added a little more gray shading.  He
stepped back, that's it for today, he thought.  Any more and it'll turn into
gothic crap, and I've sold enough of them to tell the difference, he thought
with a wry grin.

Cleaning his brushes, he thought about the day five years ago when he showed
her his first paintings.  I wonder if Willow had any idea what she was
starting, I know I didn't, he thought.

They had been together for six months and they were just getting over the
trauma of telling her friends.  Buffy was just beginning to relax around
them.  Dawn was no problem she loved them both.  Anya and Xander couldn't be
upset by anything since they found out they were having a baby.  The Slayer
though, there had been tough times there, but Willow had finally made Buffy
believe that she really loved him.  He thought it was a good time to
celebrate.

He'd arranged everything in his old crypt; he kept a few things there and
spent some of the long daylight hours there.  He was sleeping at Willow's,
although the actual amount of sleep his pet was getting was pretty small.

He asked her to come back with him to pick up a few things.  He led her in
and then turned on the lantern.  The place was full of her favorite roses.
The table was set for two and the champagne was chilling beside it in a
silver bucket.

"Happy half anniversary, " he said as she gaped.

"Spike," she said hugging him, "it's wonderful."  Then she gave him a deep
and lengthy kiss.  Needless to say, the ice in the bucket had melted
considerably by the time they made it to the table.

Later she leaned back in her chair and groaned, " chocolate cake and
chocolate chip ice cream, I couldn't look at another thing."

"I guess I'll have to take this back then," he said holding up a slim velvet
case.

"On second thought, " she said with a grin as she reached for the box.

She opened it and her face lit up.  She pulled out a silver chain with a
silver pendant in the shape of the intertwined letters 'W' and 'S'.  It's
beautiful, I don't know how to thank you."

"Maybe I can think of something," he said as he rounded the chair behind her.
He ran his hands over her shoulders and skimmed gently over her breasts
before taking the necklace from her hands and fastening it around her neck.

Sometime later she was admiring the decorations, when she spied something
under a sheet in a corner.

"What's that, " she asked, "the former resident?"

He rushed to get between her and the object of her curiosity, " it's nothing,
just some old junk that I had to move to prepare your celebration.  Look, "
he pointed to the table, " I think there's some champagne left."

She wouldn't be put off and he finally gave in, "Ok laugh if you must, but
it's my painting gear."

"You paint?  I never knew.  Please, let me see."

Reluctantly he showed her the four small studies of the cemetery in the
moonlight.

She didn't laugh though she liked them.

She looked up as if seeing him in a different light, " these are lovely, "
she said, "could I have one?"

"Take the whole lot.  It's just something I do to pass the time.  I hadn't
done it for years and years, then when we started … together, I thought I'd
like to try it again."

That's how it started.  Willow let Anya hang two of them in the Magic Shop,
just for atmosphere.  Then out of the blue, someone offered to buy them both.
When Anya was through bargaining, they'd brought in five hundred dollars,
each.

Willow took a few more and visited some friends of the Slayer's mother who
were in the art business.  Soon everyone wanted an original 'WS'.  That's how
I signed them, I told everyone it was for William / Spike, but she knew
better.

Now he pulled in a good income from the paintings, enough to keep Willow in
graduate school without loans or parental gifts.  She enjoyed learning so
much.  Doctor Rosenberg he called her sometimes.  He was glad she was feeling
better; maybe she could pick up an instructor's spot next semester.

He could hardly believe it when she became ill.  Sickness hadn't been a part
of his life for a very long time.  He'd forgotten the uncertainties of mortal
life. He probably should be grateful for the lesson.  It prepared him for the
future, the day when he could make her his forever.  He could never force
her, but the time would have to come.  That's what the last year had shown
him.

She was getting better though, she was so sure that she'd made it a point to
make him go to the old crypt and paint every day.  She said the routine made
her feel less of an invalid.

He hurried to finish cleaning up.  He could hardly wait to see her.  He
always left for the crypt before sunup.  Before, she would get up with him
and have a cup of tea or coffee with him.  These days, he would stick his
head into the room they used to share and say a silent goodbye.  She needed
her sleep.

He took his latest two painting and walked quickly through the darkening
cemetery.

0

He turned up the path to the house they shared and hesitated.  What was Giles
doing sitting on the front step, he thought.  Willow had been so happy that
he'd made a special trip to Sunnydale to visit her and his godson Alex.

"Giles, " he said as he mounted the steps, " what did they do, throw you out?"

Giles didn't lift his head.

"What is it?  You're scaring me now.  Has something happened to.."

He turned for the door.

"She's not there, " Giles said in a weary voice.

"Then where the hell is she?" Spike demanded.

Giles glanced at him then looked away removing his glasses.

"She asked me to give you this," he said holding out an envelope, " she
wanted you to read it before you do anything else."

Giles stood, "I'm going inside, ' he said and Spike was alone.

The envelope had 'Spike' written across it in her handwriting.

He removed a sheet of paper and read.

"If you're reading this, I'm already gone.  I'm sorry that I couldn't tell
you goodbye in person.  I hope you can forgive me.  When I learned that it
was only a matter of time, I knew I had to keep it from you.  I didn't do it
to protect you, because you are the strongest person that I know.   I wasn't
trying to push you away either.  You'll never know how many times I wanted to
tell you and have you hold me.  Hold me and love me and make me know how I'd
be missed.  To remember the wonderful things we had together and think how
lucky I was to have you."

He stopped and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"But I didn't tell you.  I hurt you terribly, I know.  I think I hurt myself
more.

I knew what you'd do if I told you.  I could see it in your eyes since I
first became ill; that confidence that if all else failed you could rescue
me.  You could make me your own forever.  I couldn't let that happen.  You
loved me Willow an imperfect mortal.  The thing you'd make wouldn't be me. It
would have my body, voice and face, but not my heart and soul.  In the long
run, you'd realize the difference and I think it would destroy you.  It would
slowly steal all that I loved and all that made you love me.  I couldn't
allow that.

Please try to forgive me, I will always love you and hope that I will live
just a bit in you.

All my love,

Willow

Look in the envelope and keep it with you always.

W "

In the envelope was the silver chain with intertwined S and W pendant he had
given her so long ago.

He fastened it around his neck and carefully returned the letter to its
envelope.  He stood head bowed for a few moments, then a terrible shudder
passed through his body and he looked up yellow eyes blazing his face that of
William the bloody master vampire.

0

He made short work of the back door to the mortuary.  He raced from room to
room looking for her body, hoping against hope that there would be something
left.  Enough for him to use all the magic skills he and the wizards, witches
and demons he would employ to bring her back.

He stood trembling before the last door, the one place he had avoided in his
frantic search.  He pushed through the door marked 'Crematorium."

Against his will, his eyes searched the nameplates on the containers ranged
on the plain wooden shelves.  Through the tears that sprung to his eyes he
read the fatal name.

In a fit of grief, he picked it up and hurled it against the wall.  He
watched all that was left of her settle gently to the floor.  At once, the
anger, fear and sorrow drained away.  She was here, soft and gentle as she
ever was.  He knew that she had been right; he couldn't have lived with the
heartless and soulless Willow he would have made.

He smiled and stretched out on the floor.  He thought he felt the warmth of
her as he lay there.  He reached out for a piece of broken shelf.  He thrust
and felt a moment of terrible pain then dissolution.

0

John Freeman had never seen anything like it in his thirty-five years in the
funeral business.  A broken urn and ashes and dust all over the floor.
Luckily he found it himself instead of one of the cleaners who couldn't be
counted on to keep quiet.  He shuddered at the thought that someone would
discover what had happened.  He quickly transferred the spilled ashes to
another identical urn.  He never noticed the silver chain that also went into
the urn or questioned the large amount of material that ended up in the
container.  He sighed in relief; no one would be the wiser at the service.

0

Early that morning in a house muffled in grief, Angel sat in silence unable
to rest.  Suddenly he felt a terrible pain in his chest accompanied by
visions of the ceiling in a room lined with shelves of hauntingly familiar
objects.  As suddenly as the pain and visions came they left.  He felt an
emptiness he had known before.  He began to mourn again.

0

The funeral director had thought it strange that the interment should be
after sundown, but accepted it as he accepted all family wishes.

They stood and watched as the niche was sealed with a marble plaque bearing
her name and the short span of her life.

"I expected Spike to be here didn't you?" Buffy asked Giles.

"After reading that letter, I wouldn't be surprised at anything he did," he
replied.

"She had to do it, " Xander said holding his son a little tighter.

Anya nodded unable to speak.

Buffy took a deep breath, approached the niche and placed a single rose in
the marble vase.  She stepped back and stood with bowed head.  A weeping Dawn
was next adding another rose.  Anya and Xander each placed a rose in the
vase.  They stepped back and hugged little Alex and smiled sadly at his
innocently happy face.

Angel came last; he approached slowly with two roses.  He mouthed the word
'goodbye' as he placed them in the vase.

END

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