Chapter Thirty-One/Conclusion Part One

Over mountains...over trees
Over oceans...over seas...
I'll be there...


*


Los Angeles: Four Days Later


A rare rain storm had parked itself over the city of Los Angeles early that Friday morning. The crystal clear azure skies had clouded up heavily, the rains had begun to fall and there seemed to be no promise of sunshine at all on this day.

In a small secluded Los Angeles cemetery, away from the hustle and bustle of city life, tucked away underneath a large maple tree, a headstone stood alone. In front of it a hole had been dug, the wet earth piled beside it. A simple black-lacquered casket stood nearby. A small group gathered around the closed casket, black umbrellas bobbing in the Pacific Ocean breeze as rain steadily fell, changing from a heavy pour to an insistent drizzle.

A priest took his place at the head of the gathering, dressed in heavy black robes, holding a thick Bible and wearing a somber expression on his lined face. The silver-haired man's eyes slowly swung to each individual gathered around the grave site, taking them in one by one.

The priest then lowered his eyes to the open Bible in his hand and began to speak with an even timbre. He began to speak about a higher power and the fate that each one walking the earth would face one day. He spoke of God and His plan for each of His children and the special place that waited for them.

Glancing at the Bible in his hands, the priest quoted a verse about God wiping the tears from their eyes and saying there would be no more pain, no more suffering. Stepping to the closed casket before him, he placed a hand atop of it, closed his eyes, offered a prayer; asking God to shine his face upon them.

He prayed that peace would be found on the other side of the pain of mourning and sorrow. The priest opened his eyes and lifted them heavenward, not caring that the rain fell into his eyes and asked God to take his child, to take Buffy Anne Summers to a place of rest and peace. Then he held up his arms, black robes flowing around him and offered a benediction to those gathered.

The silver-haired man then clasped his hands in front of his body, clutching his Bible, bowing his head. The small gathering began to break up, filing away from the grave site in a slow single file line. Two figures remained behind and the priest nodded slightly at the two and then walked away slowly, leaving the remaining mourners to their reflection and grief.

The two that stood in silence near the grave were male and female. The young female, hovering on the edge of adulthood, had long brunette hair and a slight form. She wore a simple black blouse, skirt and heels. Her hair hung loose almost halfway down her back and lifted slightly from the wet ocean breeze that scattered the rain and swirled the wet drops around the air.

The other figure, a male with pale alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair, wearing a long leather duster, stepped beside the female and clutched her hand in his own. Together they slowly approached the casket, the young girl holding a simple white rose, which was pressed to her lips and then placed gently atop of the casket. She bowed her head as tears dripped from her cheeks and then lifted her eyes to the male at her side.

He smiled down at her, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and squeezed her hand. The young girl held her hair away from her face and leaned forward to press a tiny kiss to the male's cheek before she dropped his hand and walked away, leaving him as the last one to stand beside the casket.


*


In a whisper on the wind...on the smile of a new friend
Just think of me...and I'll be there...


Spike stepped forward and pressed his hand to the casket before him, the rain pelting his body from all sides. He didn't seem to notice it, his eyes only fixed on the casket before him. He closed his eyes, his throat working in a desperate attempt to prevent the tears that wanted to spill forth onto his cheeks.

The past four days had been spent awash in tears, not to mention Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and whatever other liquor Spike could get his hands on.

The gang had only arrived back in Los Angeles two days before, since they'd had to wait for the release of Buffy's body and then the shocking news of the Watcher and his suicide...

The twenty-four hours that followed the group's return to Los Angeles had been consumed with funeral arrangements...not only for Buffy but for that of the Watcher as well. His body had been flown to his native England and was laid to rest at a family burial site near Bath.

Spike shook his head morosely at the thought of Rupert Giles putting the barrel of a gun in his mouth and ending his own life. Spike had been a vicious killer in his time, had gloried in death and pain for the better part of a hundred and twenty or so odd years...but when one decided to take their own life...well...there was no glory in that...no reward waiting on the other side.

Spike could understand the Watcher's pain though. He had betrayed the only one in his life that had mattered to him, the young woman he had looked upon and loved as a daughter. His guilt and remorse were justified. But ending his life the way he had? Not justified and not fair to Buffy. Right up until the end 'ol Rupes was still buggering things up. The more things changed...

Spike's head was pounding. He was bloody knackered and thought that he might still be a little drunk from last night's bender. He pressed a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Small price to pay, he surmised, attending the funeral of your dead lover with a hangover. Right good of you 'ol Spike, you dumb git. He gritted his teeth and shook his head to clear it and then glanced at the casket before him.

Suddenly, his shoulders began to shake violently and his knees began to buckle as he lowered to the ground until he was kneeling at the edge of the casket. He pressed his cheek atop the coffin, the rain wetting his hair and falling into his eyes. Spike couldn't tell if the moisture falling from his eyes was rain or tears...it didn't matter anymore. He just wanted her back.

Slowly, Spike ran a hand up and down the smooth finish of the casket and squeezed his eyes shut. The funeral home had been the worst. A small family gathering had been held last night at the funeral parlor. A wake, in which Buffy's casket had been opened, as the viewing took place.

Spike had stood on the periphery of the room, hovering in the doorway, clutching a bottle of Jack and weaving drunkenly on his feet, hardly able to see past his tears as he stumbled into the room. He had been oblivious to Buffy's family members; had only stumbled blindly to the casket where he body lay.

He'd fallen to his knees in front of it and tipped his forehead to the chest of the woman he loved the chest that didn't rise or fall and had sobbed into the frilly blouse some bloody stupid under-taker had dressed her in.

Leave it to someone who knew absolutely nothing about Buffy to dress her for her funeral. A white blouse that buttoned all the way up to her neck? No, no. It wasn't suitable. The woman had been a Slayer for chrissakes...and she hadn't worn that kind of namby-pamby bullshit.

She'd been a risk-taker in the fashion department; dangerous. As if she was almost daring the vampires to come out and start something with her. That was the Buffy Spike had known, not this one who was dressed in a frilly blouse and plaid skirt.

He'd sobbed in all of his brokenness, openly and without reservation, right there in front of her horrified family members, whose hands had flown to their mouths and whose eyes had stared at Spike in stupefied silence. They wondered who the pale man with the long black coat was. They wondered why his grief was so all-consuming. Who was this man? What connection did he have to Buffy? Those questions would remain unanswered.

Dawn had jumped up from her seat, and run to Spike as the tears swam in front of her eyes. She'd wrapped her arms around his body and pressed her cheek to his back as his sobs reverberated through his body and bounced off hers.

She absorbed his pain, tried to put it on her slim shoulders...but Spike wouldn't stand for it. He'd slowly gotten to his feet, hauled the Bit into his arms and sobbed on her shoulder. She led him from the room slowly, darting apologetic glances at the troubled expressions of her family members.

The Bit had deposited him in a waiting area and had sat silently with him until he passed out in a drunken stupor. She hadn't passed judgment, hadn't pointed any fingers or railed him for his behavior. She had just sat beside him in silence, holding his hand. Dawn possessed the same strength and bravery as her sister and Spike was proud to know her, proud of the fact that he would get to witness her transform into the beautiful woman he knew she would be.

The Bit was the only one that kept him hanging onto an unlife that was slowly turning into a pathetic existence. Spike was becoming a shadow of himself, wrapping his grief around him like a cloak and hiding himself beneath it. He never wanted to emerge again, show his face. The pain was just too much to bear.


*


Spike lifted his head from the casket as he felt a distinct presence, which broke his reverie. Two workers stood nearby holding shovels, staring at him with confused expressions. How much time had passed since the service had ended? Spike thought to himself. Then he realized he didn't really care, the funeral had been excruciating, no sense in dragging it out any longer. He got to his feet and thrust his hands into the pockets of his duster, eyeing the workers in front of him as he passed.

"Pushing off now mates, no worries," he mumbled.

The two men nodded evenly at Spike and allowed him to pass. They probably saw this type of thing all the time, judging by their chosen profession. Spike knew where he was going, straight home to start the next bender. Seemed all the alcohol in the world wasn't helping to numb the ache he felt, but he had to make the effort. He'd drink himself into oblivion if that's what it took to take away his pain.

*


Don't be afraid, oh my love...I'll be watching you from above...
And I'd give all the world tonight...to be with you...
Because I'm on your side...and I still care...
I may have died...but I've gone nowhere...
Just think of me...
And I'll be there...


*


Spike sat all alone in the shadowed living room of his apartment, working on his third bottle of Jack Daniels and staring at the TV that flickered images and flashes of color over his face and body. As soon as he'd arrived home from the cemetery, he'd killed the lights, turned off the phone and dug into the sack of liquor he'd purchased at the convenience store a block away from the apartment.

He couldn't see past getting bloody knackered and passing out on the sofa...or possibly the floor...depending if he could walk to the sofa. The alcohol was doing its job, but it wasn't doing it nearly well enough to Spike's liking. Seemed no matter what he did, he still couldn't stop thinking of her and the last moments they'd spent together.

It appeared that the memories would never leave his brain, would remain imprinted there forever. The weight of her body pressed against his, the way it had seemed to sag, to grow lighter as the life slipped away. He could still feel her last breath as it had whispered against his skin, as it expelled from her lungs one final time.

Spike tipped his chin to his chest and began to sob, clutching the bottle loosely in his hand as he brought a palm to his face and swiped tears from his red, swollen eyes. He sniffed and then shook his head, vamping out.

Vaulting to his feet, he hefted the glass bottle of whiskey at the nearest wall, watching in satisfaction as the glass shattered. A short-lived joy filled him as the contents of the bottle spilt everywhere, splattering against the wall. Dropping to his knees, Spike threw his head into his hands and lost control, his face returning to that of his human guise.

"I want her back," he sobbed, "bring her back to me. I can't soddin live like this...not without her! I wish I was dead...wish I was dead!"

A deep-seated groan issued from his throat as his body tipped forward, as he pressed his forehead to the floor and was washed away in the swirling stream of his pain. Slowly, his grief got the better of him as exhaustion claimed. Spike stretched his body out on the floor, rolled on his back and then curled himself into a ball...passing out moments later...seeking oblivion in the respite of sleep.

He never noticed the figure that materialized and entered the room. Blonde hair hung in golden waves, swirling around slim, muscular female shoulders. Brilliant green eyes seemed to take up the ethereal beauty's face and bring out the pale color of the simple gown she wore. Her feet were bare as she moved along the floor. Crouching to the floor, Buffy scooped Spike into her arms and pulled him close to her body, holding him there, rocking him gently as her eyes drifted closed and her hands stroked his hair.

On the edge of a waking dream...
Over rivers..over streams...
Through wind and rain...
I'll be there...


*


A sound shattered the peaceful world of slumber in which Spike was happily residing in. The alcohol had done its job, sending Spike swirling slowly to a calm contented place where he could rest and forget...forget all of the painful things that had surrounded his unlife lately.

The sound returned and Spike's features creased into a frown as he tried to decipher what exactly the sound was. His sensitive hearing picked up on it and sussed it out. Rain. It was rain, pelting the windows of his tiny apartment as it fell in sheets from the sky. Looking around, Spike realized that he was still on the floor. Bloody hell,, he thought to himself.

He sat up and groaned as a sharp pain hit him square between the eyes. Pressing a palm to his forehead, he stumbled to his feet and realized that sitting upright wasn't going to help matters, because the bile was starting to rise in his throat.

Moments later, he was bolting for the bathroom and heaving his guts out into the toilet. He slumped to the floor of the bathroom and pressed his cheek to the cool tile, regaining his equilibrium.

No more, he thought to himself, no more whiskey. Bad Spike.

In spite of himself and in spite of his situation he started to giggle crazily, until the giggles turned to sobs. He thrust his fists against the floor and slowly got to his feet.

Half-drunk and wracked with grief, Spike stumbled to his bedroom and flopped onto the bed face first. Something warm clasped his shoulder, which sent his body bolting upright and his head darting back and forth. He shook it, deciding he was going crazy and pressed his face back to the pillows. The touch returned and this time Spike was on his feet, eyes narrowed, assessing the room warily. He vamped out and stalked around the room.

"If you’re a beastie or a spook you best be pushing off...'m in no mood for any bullshit. So sod off!" Spike shouted to the walls, not caring if he was disturbing someone's beauty rest.

Flinging his hands in the air in defeat he sank to the bed and stretched his body across it, pillowing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. The warmth of a presence stretching out beside him caused one eye to open and his head to turn. His gaze slammed into something, which caused both of his eyes to fly open and his body to vault upright. He stared at the presence beside him in astonished, stunned and stupefied silence.

"Buffy!"


*


In the breath of a wind that sighs...
Oh, there's no need to cry...
Just think of me...
And I'll be there...


Spike rolled off the bed and backpedaled slowly until his body slammed into a wall as he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the woman whose body stretched lazily along the length of his bed. Her hand propped her head up as her soft green eyes drank him in. Soft blonde hair fell along one shoulder in a waterfall of silk.

Spike clutched the wall behind him and just stared. If he'd had air in his lungs he'd be sucking it in right about now...the need to breathe...though unnecessary... assailed Spike violently. It was Buffy and she was here.

Wait just one bleeding minute, Spike thought crazily to himself with a shake of his head, this can't be happening. It's not happening.

He glanced up again and sure enough, she was still there, but now she was off the bed and on her feet and walking toward him, a small smile hinting at the corner of her slightly parted red lips.

"I'm dreamin right?" Spike babbled to the presence as his eyes traveled to the floor, his hands thrusting into the golden platinum waves of his hair. "No more bloody Jack for Spike...uh huh...done drinking," he finished, mumbling the words to himself and shaking his head.

He glanced up as Buffy's ethereal presence stood within inches of his body. He tried to back up further, but the solid form of the wall behind him prevented his escape. The beautiful woman clad in a resplendent white gown that hugged every angle and curve on her body resembled Buffy, right down to the scent. It was surreal, beyond belief...and magnificent.

Confused, Spike had to blink a few times before he realized that it really was her. She reached slim trembling fingertips toward his face, the palm of her hand cradling his cheek and caressing the smooth skin. The hard ridge of his cheekbone was traced with her fingertip as she stepped closer, bringing her face within inches of Spike's. She lowered her lips, hovered them a hairbreadth of an inch near his, as her eyes drifted closed.

"Hello Spike," she sighed, her breath ghosting over his lips as she leaned closer and brushed her mouth against his. "Just think of me and I'll be here..." the last words left her mouth on a soft whisper. Spike swallowed hard as her head lifted and her eyes danced with the light of her smile.

"H-how..." Spike babbled, barely able to speak as he stared in amazement at Buffy standing before him.

"Sshh," she pressed a finger to his lips. "No time for questions. You wished it, so now I am here...just like you wanted."

"I-I don't understand...h-how did you...why...oh bloody hell!" Spike finally cried as his confusion got the better of him. He lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Not going to even bloody bother. Just tell me what you are and what you want!" The form that looked like the woman he loved took a step back and gazed at him sadly.

"The Powers sent me here...they saw you in pain, saw you suffering and they sent me here...to comfort you...bring you peace. If only for a night," Buffy explained. "So here I am."

Spike's body was still pressed to the wall and he slowly slid his body alongside it until he was seated on the floor. He covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

"Stop it! Just bloody stop torturing me!" he shouted to the ceiling as angry tears spilled from his eyes. "Haven't I had enough suffering at the bleeding hands of the soddin Powers that bloody be?"

Angrily he jumped to his feet and regarded Buffy through the blinding sheen of tears that swam before his eyes.

"You're not real! So sod off!" He pointed a trembling finger in Buffy's direction and then stormed from the room.

Buffy followed him to the living room and stood before the vampire who had slumped into a chair, who now stared blankly ahead. Slowly, she got to her knees at his feet and placed both hands on his thighs. He didn't look at her, didn't speak.

Moving closer, she clasped one of his lifeless hands in hers and turned the palm face up, tracing a fingertip over the ugly scar that had been burned into the skin. A ragged sigh issued from Spike's mouth as she pressed her lips gently to the scar and kissed it tenderly.

Tears rose in Spike's eyes as he righted his body, his gaze slamming into hers. He gritted his teeth, clasped her face between his hands and descended his lips upon hers. The moment their mouths met and melded...Spike knew that he was a soddin' fool.

Of course this was Buffy. The hair, the eyes, the scent...of course...of course. His mouth clung to hers as he got to his feet, dragging Buffy with him. They continued to kiss as he hauled both their bodies to the bedroom.


*


Buffy pressed her palms to Spike's chest and heaved him to the bed, his body flopping against the mattress as she stood above him, reaching out her hands to slide the dress from her body. He gazed at her from beneath heavy lidded eyes and watched as the dress slipped from her body and pooled in a puddle of fabric at her feet.

He marveled at her nakedness, drank in the sight of her breasts, the pink rosy nipples that stood at attention. His gaze traveled lower...lower still and coasted over her taut smooth belly and stopped at the triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.

Buffy crawled across the bed and stretched herself alongside the length of Spike's body. She clasped his face between her hands, turned his head and slanted her mouth against his in a punishing kiss that robbed Spike of coherent thought.

His palms ghosted over the curves of her shoulders, slid down the muscled length of her forearms and stopped at her wrists, circling his fingers gently around them. She lifted her mouth from his and stared deeply into Spike's eyes, the breath huffing from her mouth in short bursts as the lids of her eyes lowered, drinking him in.

"I love you Spike," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.

Spike thrust his hands into the soft weight of the golden hair that swayed enticingly before his eyes. He kneaded the muscles of her neck from beneath her hair and gloried in the mewling sounds that issued from her mouth through parted lips.

He pressed his mouth to hers in an insistent kiss, proclaiming his love for her between unnecessary breaths as he covered her mouth drew her bottom lip through his teeth and tugged gently.

Meanwhile, her hands were working on loosening his black tee from where it was tucked into his jeans. She wrenched the shirt over his head and then tossed it across the room. Next, her deft fingers were working at the snap of his jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down over his hips, sliding them from his legs. They too were flung across the room.

Spike clasped her shoulders and flipped their bodies, until she lay beneath him, begging him with her eyes to take her over the edge of the world with him. Spike was more than happy to oblige as his lips descended to the sweet spot between her neck and shoulders, nibbling the smooth skin and pressing his tongue to the place where her pulse beat incessantly.

He laved the warm skin with his tongue, savoring the saltiness, the taste of her...the smell. He was reveling in the reaction he was receiving from her, courtesy of the frenzied motion of his lips and tongue. Her moans and sighs only served to heighten his arousal and urged him to continue his exploration of her skin...of her body.

His mouth traveled to her collarbone, his tongue dipping lower as he dragged it through the valley between her breasts. He pressed his mouth wetly to the place where her heart beat and heard her sharp intake of breath as the touch thrilled her.

Spike growled low in his throat and nibbled the soft round globe of her breast, inching toward the nipple that puckered prettily. His mouth closed around the hard pointed tip and drew it in slowly, causing her body to lift from the bed slightly.

He opened his eyes and glanced up, feeling his erection growing as he took in the sight before him. Her head was tipped back, the beautiful column of her throat exposed. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted wetly. Her fingers clenched into fists as she balled the sheets at her sides, as slowly her head began to move back and forth, a moan issuing from her lips.

Spike moved his mouth to her other nipple, giving it the same attention as the other. He couldn't take it much longer as a guttural moan issued from her throat. Spike lowered his head to her thighs, parted them gently, descending his mouth over her sex.

"Spike...aah God...Spike!" She cried aloud, his name wrenching agonizingly from her mouth as those four words spilled out.

"Yes love," he murmured, his eyes drinking in the loveliness of her body as once again his head lowered between her parted thighs.

He couldn't wait to taste her...couldn't wait... His tongue darted out, his mouth claimed as he suckled the tender skin of her wet folds, giving it the loving caresses he knew she yearned for. Her thighs began to quake and tremble as she reached her orgasm, her breath hissing through her teeth as exquisite pleasure snaked from her thighs and cascaded over her entire body.

Spike steadied her with a hand placed on each knee as he opened her thighs further, burying his mouth once again into her wetness. Buffy came violently, her body twisting and turning as her moans turned to screams of pleasure. Her head vaulted from the pillow and her body arched as she cried out Spike's name in one long pleasure-filled litany.

"Aah God...love...so beautiful...yes love," he proclaimed to her as he watched her body slump back against the pillow. A slow lazy smile crept across her features as her lips parted, her eyes remaining shut as she savored the last ripples of orgasm that shuddered over her body.

But Spike wasn't done yet.

He positioned himself between her thighs and parted them once again with the gentle prodding of his knee. Wrapping his stiff throbbing erection in one hand, he guided it to her center and watched with delight as her eyes flew open and her mouth rounded in a surprised 'o'.

He teased her with his cock, probing it around her folds, sliding it around and lubricating it with her juices. Her thighs began to tremble as her mouth dropped open, her head tipped back and the air expelled from her lungs.

"Please Spike...please..." she begged, her neck rolling around on her shoulders, her mouth working as moans issued from them.

"Don't have to ask twice love," Spike murmured lovingly, as he slowly sheathed himself inside of her.

He entered her slow...achingly slow...so that she could feel every inch of him as she was filled completely. He could feel her muscles clamping around him so tightly...the pleasure almost painful. But Spike could take the heat. He thrust slowly at first, watching through hooded eyes as the pleasure played across Buffy's features.

Soon heat began to build inside of him as his thrusts increased in speed. Her legs wrapped around his middle and drew him closer and that was all it took...as suddenly he was reaching the pinnacle of his release.

His hips slammed into her body with such force that the headboard of the bed thumped the wall behind it in rhythm to Spike's fevered thrusts. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over his body as he tipped his head back and let out a guttural moan. Buffy's strangled cries of release mingled with Spike's as they reached release together.

"I love you Spike," Buffy breathed as her body arched, the words coming out between the short bursts of air that accompanied her moans.

"Yes love...love you so much...aah God...Buffy...yesss," Spike hissed through his teeth as his hips pumped furiously, as sweet pleasure curled deep inside of him and then rocketed throughout his entire body.

His eyes squeezed shut and stars appeared behind them, so powerful was his orgasm. His release seized him violently, causing his whole body to tremble and shake from the force of his climax as his body tipped forward and collapsed atop of Buffy's.

When it was over, he remained sprawled atop of her for long moments. He kept his head rested on Buffy's chest and listened to the beat of her heart as it raced and then slowed, beating again at a normal rate.

Her hands lifted, then rested along the planes and curves of his back...coasting gently over the sweat-slicked skin as a soft sigh of contentment issued from her lips. Spike fell asleep entangled in the limbs of his beloved Slayer as he drifted away on a sweet cloud of satisfaction. This was where he wanted to stay...forever...forever...forever...

And I'd give all the world tonight...to be with you...
Because I'm on your side...and I still care...
I may have died...but I've gone nowhere...
Just think of me...and I'll be there...


*


Spike woke with a start, his eyes darting nervously around the room cloaked in night shadows and silvery slivers of moonlight that filtered through the window blinds. As he slowly sat upright, his eyes traveled over his nude body and then landed on the empty space beside him in bed.

Pressing a palm to the side of his head, he squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding pain of the headache that pounded behind his temples. The ache was a reminder and suddenly a flood of memories assailed him. Had he dreamt it? Had she really been there, with him? Had they made love?

Confused, Spike rolled out of bed, pulling the sheet around his nudity as he trudged from the bedroom. He lifted his nose and inhaled. Her scent...it was everywhere. It undulated off the walls, pulsed in waves around him and Spike found himself spinning in place, dazedly trying to take it all in.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as figure materialized before him...it was Buffy...she was back and she was standing before him again, a soft smile on her face, her sweet scent filling his senses, making his world tilt a little. Spike studied her form, his head tilted to the side, a tiny frown creasing his features.

"Did I dream you?" he asked in awe as Buffy stood within inches of his body. Her gaze was penetrating and so deep. It seemed to go right through him, threatening to consume him. She shook her head, the golden waves of her hair tumbling around her slim shoulders.

"No Spike, you didn't."

"What's happening, love?"

Buffy stepped closer, placed both of her hands on his shoulders and drew him closer, brushing a kiss over his lips. Then she released him and took a step back.

"I have to go now, Spike."

Spike reached out for her, hesitated, his features beginning to crumple as her image slowly began to fade.

"Wait love...no...One moment more...please love...'m begging you..."

A slow sweet smile spread across her pretty features, seeming to light her up from the inside out.

"I won't stay away forever, Spike. I promise. Remember, when you think of me, I'll always be there," she said softly, the words piercing Spike straight to his core as once again her form began to waver and dissolve.

"No!" Spike cried out plaintively. "How...how do I go on...how do I live without you?"

The moment seemed to stand still between them...freeze frame... as Spike drank her loveliness in with eyes that had filled with tears. Buffy's soft gaze filled him completely and he wanted to bottle it, carry it with him forever. It was just so hard to let go...there was finality to it...as if the word 'goodbye' hung over the two like a thick ominous cloud.

"I won't be far," she said softly, her eyes traveling heavenward and then returning to clash with Spike's blue eyes. "I'll be watching from above and I'll be loving you. You'll move on...without me...but I won't forget you. You can bet on that. I know that you won't forget me, either. I get it now, Spike. Great love. The wildness, the passion...how it burns and consumes. I won't forget that. Ever. You taught me how to love to really love and I'll take that with me."

"Buffy...love...please," Spike begged, sinking to his knees slowly and tilting his head back to fill his eyes with her presence.

"Say it again, Spike."

"Say what, my love?"

"My name...I've waited so long for you to call me by my name. Say it again...please..." she begged softly.

"Buffy," Spike said slowly, savoring the way the word felt as it left his mouth.

"Again."

"Buffy...love...sweetheart...love you so much..."

"I love you, Spike. Remember all you have to do is think of me and I'll be there. Watching from above," she pointed her finger toward the heavens and smiled sweetly, bathing Spike in a warm wonderful golden glow.

His breath hitched in his chest as his throat worked, battling the tears that now spilled from his eyes and slid down his cheeks. He returned her smile and reached out his hands as she began to fade away. He could feel the connecting of their hands as they clasped together, Buffy's fingers slowly lacing with his.

The gesture sent waves of remembrance and sadness through Spike's body as he was taken back to a different place, a different time...when he was awash in golden light, becoming a champion...listening as Buffy, for the first time, told him that she loved him. But this time, there would be no denials, no rejections. Because he knew that when the words left her mouth that they were real...so real.

He lifted his eyes slowly to hers and lost himself in the swirling emerald depths, clinging as tightly as he could to her hands clasped in his. He was drowning...drowning...but oh it was the sweetest thing. He lowered his eyes to their joined hands and watched as hers faded away. When he looked up she was gone.

"I love you," she whispered as she faded completely, dissolving and blending with the shadows of the night that cloaked the tiny living room.

"I love you too, Buffy. Love you too," he whispered back, this time his words reverberating around the silence of the room that no longer held her presence. "Never forget you. Never..."

Spike could feel a new resolve burning inside of him as he got to his feet. He stared long and hard at the space she'd faded into and ran a shaky hand through his hair. It would be a bloody long time before the light would shine into his world again. The darkness would remain wrapped around his heart and his body until finally he was dust in the wind.

Buffy had faded away and with her she'd taken the piece of Spike that he would never regain. She'd captured him...mind, body and soul and there could be no one to replace her. He would live with that knowledge for the rest of his unlife...spend an eternity dreaming of her face and longing for the moment when he would touch it once again.

Until then, he would live...stumble with faltered steps through a world that at times was unbearable to live in. But Spike would do it. For her. Because of her. It was what Buffy would want of him. It was the best he could do.

Because I'm on your side...and I still care
I may have died...but I've gone nowhere
Just think of me...and I'll be there
In the breath of a wind that sighs...oh, there's no need to cry
Just think of me...and I'll be there


*

End of Chapter Thirty-One/Conclusion Part One


*
A/N: Stay tuned for Conclusion Part Two/Epilogue...


 

Chapter Thirty-Two/Conclusion Part Two

~Epilogue~

~*~

One Year Later...

Los Angeles, California

I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons...
Finally content with a past I regret...
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness...
For once I'm at peace with myself...
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long...
I'm movin' on...


*


The hush of the cemetery greeted the shadowed figure as he stepped into it, crossing the grassy area on silent steps that were purposeful and determined. A nearby street light bathed the male figure in a wash of warm orange light as he stopped, took a drag from the cigarette in his hand and tossed it away.

From the cloud of cigarette smoke the figure emerged, walking slowly toward a large maple tree in which a lone head stone stood. The figure came to a slow stop in front of the grave site, black leather dusting swirling around his body.

He approached the stone marker, staring reflectively ahead for a moment. Slowly, he got to his knees in front of it and gently laid a bouquet of assorted flowers in front of the head stone, bowing his blonde head as if in prayer.

Pale fingertips reached out to the stone and began to trace the letters engraved into the marbleized surface. His shoulders began to shake slightly and once again his head was tipped to his chest.

The sound of a twig snapping brought his head up abruptly. Slowly, he stood and darted his head, surveying the area. The sound permeated the air again and he took a small step forward, investigating.

Suddenly, another figure emerged from the shadows of the night. This new presence was a woman. The two seemed to stare at one another a moment as if trying to assess if either of them really existed. The woman took a tentative step forward and then broke into a run toward the man and hauled herself into his arms forcefully.


*

"Oof!" was Spike's exclamation as Dawn's tiny body slammed against his. If he'd had any air in his lungs he surely would have had the wind knocked out of him from the powerful force that flung itself into his embrace. Dawn lifted her cheek from Spike's chest and tipped her head up, meeting his eyes.

"Hello Spike," Dawn said as his arms came around her and embraced her gently.

"Nibblet," Spike nodded. She stepped out of his embrace, tucked strands of her brunette hair behind her eyes and regarded Spike evenly.

"Didn't think you'd show," Dawn murmured softly, reaching out to idly finger the lapels of his leather duster. Spike lowered his head and stared at the ground.

"Been busy Nibblet," was his soft response.

"With what? Drinking yourself stupid and moping? It's been a year Spike," Dawn cried plaintively. Spike's head shot up and he stepped closer, grabbing Dawn by the shoulders roughly.

"Shut your gob!" he cried, shaking her a little. Dawn cried out and immediately Spike's hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders hunching forward.

"Sorry Bit," he murmured softly, taking a step back and lowering his head.

"It's ok Spike," she replied. "I understand you know. I miss her too. Just as much as you do. Maybe even more." Spike lifted his eyes and met Dawn's soft child-like brown eyes and sighed.

He didn't believe it to be possible that anyone missed Buffy more than he did. Dawn brushed past him to stand in front of Buffy's head stone, folding her arms over her chest. Spike stepped beside her and saw her posture stiffen. She was angry with him. Slowly, he reached out both hands to grip her shoulders, turning her slowly to face him.

"I'm in a bad way Bit," he stated in a near-whisper. "I'm being eaten alive and it's killing me. This pain...missing her so badly I want to--" his voice faltered when he caught the look in Dawn's eyes. He shook his head and stayed silent.

"I know Spike. Do you know how hard this year has been? I mean not only Buffy but Giles--" Spike cut her off abruptly.

"Don't bring him into this!"

"Spike!"

"No!" he cried with a lifting of his hand. "He's gone, Bit. Took his own life. Took the coward's way out. For someone who claimed to love the Slayer so much, he sure didn't prove it to her very well. Don't bring his name up, Bit. He made his own choices and there were consequences," Spike finished casting a glance at Buffy's grave.

"You blame him don't you?" Dawn asked. Spike hedged and turned away.

"C'mon Spike. It's me here. You can be honest, not like there's anyone I could run and tell anyway," Dawn replied facing him.

Spike still didn't answer, only lifted his shoulder slightly as if to say he didn't agree or disagree in one way or another.

"Been a year, Bit. Dragging up past uglies won't bring her back. She'll still be gone," Spike muttered, running a hand through his hair idly.

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his duster, pacing around the grave site slowly. Silence stretched between him and Dawn for long moments. Spike debated on how he was going to tell her that he had decided to leave Los Angeles. He'd made the decision a week ago.

He'd come to a crossroads. The thought of eternal nights without Buffy, living in a place that was a constant reminder of her, was a burden he didn't want on his shoulders anymore. He was tired of sitting in bars night after night, drinking himself into oblivion so he wouldn't dream about her in those times when he actually slept.

The dust had been collecting on his boots for too long. It was time to move on...maybe find a place somewhere that didn't make him think of her, didn't make his eyes burn and sting with the tears that were constantly clinging in his throat, swimming in front of his eyes.

It was time to push off. He had the car packed and ready to go. He'd only stopped off at the cemetery because it was the anniversary of her death. He had never expected to run into the Nibblet. With her here he couldn't just slip away unnoticed.

She'd demand to know what the hell was going on and he'd be forced to tell her the truth and that would hurt her. He wasn't looking forward to the pain-stricken expression on her face. But, she had a lot going for her these days and with him hanging around she was bound to get bogged down with his bullshit.

Spike wouldn't stand for it. The girl had a bright future ahead of her and she didn't need to be hanging around the vampire who was still swimming in his own ocean of pain and sorrow. He loved Dawn too much to do that to her. So he was leaving.

Angel had been keeping tabs on Dawn's comings and goings on Spike's insistence and had reported that Dawn had graduated from high school, having transferred from Rome to Los Angeles. She was staying with Willow in a tiny apartment downtown somewhere.

Now she was preparing to start college in the coming months and that was when Spike knew that it was safe for him to leave. The Bit was growing up, she didn't need him anymore. He wasn't good company these days, anyway. His sorrow seemed to attach itself to others in his life and make them stay away.

Oh, they had tried. The Scoobies, one by one, had attempted to tear down the brick wall Spike had erected around himself. But he wasn't ready to come out from hiding yet, not when she haunted his dreams and plagued his memory. So he was moving on and out.

There was nothing keeping him in Los Angeles anyway. Angel had all but given up on Spike, barely tolerating his presence more than usual. Spike didn't fancy hanging around Wolfram and Hart for much longer. It only felt as if he were clinging to the Poof's coat tails and that thought didn't sit well with Spike.

He cast a long glance in the direction of Buffy's grave marker and felt the lump rising in his throat. It was better this way. New surroundings, new faces, a chance to forget. Spike felt a freeing sensation just thinking about it. Slowly, he turned his head and glanced at the NIbblet. God, it amazed him how much she'd grown in the last year.

Gone was the gangly, awkward adolescent with her doe-like innocent eyes and her need to be included in everything. The woman that had replaced the teen was mature beyond her years, contemplative, intelligent and broken.

Oh, she put on a brave face, but Spike knew his Little Bit, she was falling apart inside just as much as Spike was, maybe even more. Dawn couldn't hide from anyone, especially Spike.

With a sigh, Spike approached Dawn and touched her shoulder softly, causing the young girl to whip around.

"Time to go, Bit. It's late. Red...she'll be worryin," Spike murmured. Dawn's shoulders seemed to sag, but she nodded slowly and began to follow Spike out of the cemetery.


*


They came to a stop at the Dodge De Soto that was parked across the street from the cemetery underneath a streetlight. Spike patted the pockets of his leather duster and retrieved a cigarette thrusting it into his mouth.

The Zippo lighter came out next and he stared at a moment, feeling the cool weight of it in his hand and closed his eyes. His memory took him back to the night when The First had possessed Dawn. He and Buffy had taken a little stroll to clear their minds. Buffy had handed him the Zippo, and Spike had taken it, his eyebrows lifted slightly in question.

"What's this love?"
"It's yours."
"I know that. Where'd you get it?"
"Found it a couple of weeks ago in my attic in Rome. It was stashed in a box of Willow's stuff if you can believe that. I figured you should have it back."
"You nicked it from me, then?"
"Could say that."
"Always knew you had the bad in you sweetheart."

Spike could feel the tears building at the memory and he shook his head to clear it. Lifting the Zippo he flicked it and pressed the flame to the tip of his cigarette. He could feel the weight of Dawn's stare as she gazed at him expectantly.

"Going some place?" she asked with a tip of her head in the direction of the backseat of the De Soto, folding her arms over her chest petulantly.

Spike almost laughed. Her stance brought his memory back to that of a stubborn fifteen year old, leveling that same cool gaze his way when she didn't get what she wanted. Spike lowered his head, shuffled his feet and didn't answer.

"So you're leaving?" she pressed. All Spike could do was nod. This was a lot harder than he'd thought it was going to be.

"Didn't expect you to be here, Bit. Was just going to slip off, all stealth-like," Spike answered slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, thought it best to--"

"Run away?" Dawn interrupted.

"Bit," he hedged, "come on..."

"No, Spike. You're running away. That's what this is, isn't it?" Spike didn't answer and Dawn flung her hands into the air and made a sound of frustration in her throat, turning her back on him.

"You're as bad as she was, you know that?" she said softly to the space in front of her, her shoulders sagging a bit.

"Not following you, Bit." Dawn whirled around and crossed the distance between herself and Spike, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"With the running away...a-and the taking off. What...you miss her so much you're taking on her old habits now?"

"Dawn," Spike warned, his voice taking on a tone that suggested she was close to stepping over the line.

"So...you were just gonna leave and not even say goodbye?" Dawn asked, her voice quivering a bit as her emotions began to surface. Spike shook his head and lowered his eyes.

"It's complicated," was all he said.

"Complicated," Dawn muttered to herself, tipping her head back and rolling her eyes. "After all of this time and still you're doing it."

"Doing what?" Spike asked, leveling his gaze with Dawn's, his eyebrow lifting.

"Keeping me in the dark. You never used to do that, you know. Keep things from me. Used to be you were the only who would actually be honest with me about things. Remember that night in the Magic Box? You were the only one who wasn't afraid of me finding out the truth about me being the Key. But now..." her voice faltered as she shook her head. "I don't know what to believe now."

She started to walk away slowly and Spike caught up to her, gripped her shoulder and turned her to face him.

"If I said I was sorry would that help?" he asked, leaning his face closer to hers so he could see her eyes. Dawn stared at him a moment and then shrugged.

"I don't know," she murmured softly, her gaze traveling to her feet. Her posture seemed to relax and Spike let out the unnecessary breath he'd been holding. Her anger was residing, that was a good sign. She looked up again, met Spike's gaze.

"I'll miss you," she whispered, her voice quavering as she spoke the words, meaning that tears were on the brink of spilling from her eyes. Spike sighed and lifted his hands to his head, clutching it.

"Don't say that, Bit. It kills me when you say it like that," he groaned. Dawn reached for his arm, grasping it gently.

"Then don't go," she begged softly, "don't leave me here. I miss her too, a-and she's gone. If you leave too--" she shook her head as tears spilled from her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

Spike couldn't bear it, hating to see what this was doing to her. Without thinking he leaned forward and pulled her into his arms, clutching her head to his chest as she buried her face in his shirt and sobbed. He ran a hand over the length of her hair and squeezed his eyes shut, his emotions starting to rise to the surface, bubbling up and causing tears to swim in front of his eyes.

"Don't do that, Bit. Please," he pleaded, "I gotta do this. Gotta find some way to move on and find the missing piece inside of me...'cause without her--" his voice broke and he slammed his mouth closed, afraid to say much more for fear the dam would break and he'd be right back where he started the year before. Back to the drunken mess passed out on the living room floor begging for death to take him. Dawn lifted her head wearily from his shoulder and wriggled free of Spike's embrace, taking a few steps back and regarding him evenly.

"You know you're just being a coward with the running away, right?"

Gone was the child begging for him to stay in her quavering voice, brown eyes rounded in innocence. She was replaced with the stubborn young woman before him, who refused to give an inch no matter what. Spike could only nod at her question.

"Don't bloody care anymore, Bit. I need the open road, need to escape. If I don't I'll just waste away here...won't be of use to anyone."

Silence stretched between them as they stood on the road next to the car. Finally Dawn took a few hesitant steps in Spike's direction, her arms falling at her sides. She stared up at him expectantly.

"Will you come back?"

"Don't know."

Silence again. Dawn appeared to be thinking things over and Spike waged a war inside his own mind. Part of him wanted to break down, tell her he'd stay...say those words to her just to see the smile come back to her face. But this was a battle she wasn't going to win. Not this time. Spike's mind was made up.

If he stayed here any longer he wouldn't last another year without killing himself. The thought had niggled at the corner of his mind for too long. Maybe if he escaped for awhile he could remember why he hadn't stepped into the sunlight the day Buffy died, why he chose to keep walking this god-forsaken earth, without her by his side.

The pain was constant and unchanging. The knowledge of his grief like a weight settling upon his shoulders, the weight that was getting harder and harder to move around. No, leaving was the best thing, the only thing. And if the Bit couldn't understand that...well Spike had done his best to make her understand. There was nothing else he could do.

Spike stepped to the drivers side door of the De Soto and pulled it open, casting a long glance in Dawn's direction.

"Best be pushing off, Bit. Red'll be worryin about you now," Spike pressed, waiting for her reaction.

"I don't care," Dawn said petulantly.

"Yes, you do. Run along now."

Instead of doing as she was told, like usual, Dawn stood her ground. She heaved a sigh that seemed to come from the tips of her toes and slowly faced Spike, the tears still wet on her cheeks. A slight breeze lifted the strands of her hair as she leveled her gaze with Spike's.

"Promise me something?" she asked.

"I'm not staying Bit, made up my mind." Dawn shook her head, her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

"I know that...I'm not happy about it...but I know that I can't change your mind," she replied.

"Then, what?" Spike asked, lifting his eyebrows in question at her.

Dawn walked slowly and stood before Spike, putting her hands on his arms and lifting her eyes to his sadly.

"Promise me you'll drop back in someday...come and see me," she said.

"I can't promise that, Bit. Best I can say is I'll try," Spike relented. This seemed to appease her and her shoulders sagged visibly.

"Thank you," she responded softly, dropping her hands to her sides. Spike nodded and then slid into the driver’s seat of the car, pulling the door shut. Dawn stood at the window and leaned in.

"Goodbye, Spike. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and Spike's eyes fluttered closed, his gut twisting at the gesture. He met her eyes and gave her a weak smile.

"Be a good girl Bit," he whispered huskily around the tears that clung in his throat. Dawn nodded and stepped back. Spike blinked rapidly to clear his eyes and reached for the ignition, starting the car. He put it in 'Drive' and then glanced to his left.

Dawn was gone. He craned his neck and could see her disappearing down the sidewalk, her shoulders hunched as she walked. With a sigh, Spike tapped the gas pedal and pulled away from the sidewalk. He steered the car toward the city limits of Los Angeles and drove away slowly.

I'm moving on...
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me...
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone...
There comes a time in everyone's life...
When all you can see are the years passing by...
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone...


*


The open road beckoned to Spike, called to him. The night sky seemed to envelope his entire body as he stared ahead at the silent, empty highway. The miles seemed to melt away as Spike drove, his thoughts curling around his mind. The constant reminders, the memories of the woman he loved lingered around him, permeated the space beside him and if he turned his head slightly he could almost see her there, sitting in the passenger seat, smiling at him, green eyes clashing with his.

If he concentrated hard enough he could almost feel the weight of her hand in his, the soft stroke of her thumb inside his palm. If he closed his eyes he could still remember the soft pressure of her lips brushing against his, the silky caress of her soft blonde hair tickling his face and swaying before his eyes. If he concentrated hard enough he could remember her scent, swirling around the periphery of his mind, enervating his senses, filling him completely and making him whole again.

Would he ever really be whole again? Spike didn't have the answer to that question, but he hoped someday he would. He hoped that someday he could wake up without the sharp pain of remembering that she was gone, without the ache in his head, in his heart. Someday...someday...someday...

The miles stretched out before Spike, the endless highway before him welcoming him with open arms. Spike was more than happy to step into them and lose himself forever. Completely. Oh, what oblivion forgetting could be. Spike couldn't wait...

I've sold what I could and packed what I couldn't...
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town...
I've loved like I should, but lived like I shouldn't...
I had to lose everything to find out...
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road...
I'm movin' on...
I'm movin' on...
I'm movin' on...

End of Chapter Thirty-Two/Conclusion Part Two~ Epilogue

CONCLUSION OF BLOODY DREAMS

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed this fic. Believe it or not, the encouraging words from those reviews helped to inspire me to continue and finally finish this story. I'm glad you all enjoyed it as much as you did and just a side note, I am planning a sequel to this story here soon. So stay tuned, things aren't always as they appear...you never know...things could change...wait and see! :D