Title: The Only Ones
Author: Nebula
Rating: PG, PG-13 for the usage of a few naughty words and sad
situations.
Chapter: 1 of 2
WARNING: Character deaths. Much sadness in this one.
Pairing: Spike/Buffy, a little mention of Fred/Wesley.
Summary: Future fic, post Not Fade Away. In the year 2053, Spike is
still searching for Buffy, who disappeared years ago. An elderly
woman befriends him and keeps his hope alive. Maybe she can help
him find his missing love...
Disclaimer: I own none of the Buffy characters, but I do like to
borrow them. Joss is so nice to let me.
NN: Step Forward is on the way, I assure you. Enjoy this tiny
ficlet for the time being. I warn you now, this is a CHARACTER
DEATH story. I've gotten a lot of flaming for this one, so please,
be kind in your reviews. As always, all emphasized words and
italics are 'in these'. Enjoy.
< --- >
Athens, Greece, 2053
'Still so bloody hot out,' Spike thought to himself as he rounded
the corner. Even though night had fallen, the air was muggy, and he
was happy that he was forever cooled. Being dead kind of helped.
He'd just gotten back from Africa once again, another experiment
that had miserably failed. He'd gone to see if he could find
Harris, see if the man knew something on Buffy. Hell, he'd just
gone to see Harris for Harris, too. But he'd been too late: a car
accident had taken the boy out. Spike snorted at himself. The boy
was hardly a 'boy' anymore: he'd been pressing almost seventy-five
when he'd died.
He'd searched Harris' apartment, finding documents on the Slayers,
pictures of the Scoobies gradually getting older, but apparently not
even Harris had known why Buffy had disappeared or where she'd gone
to. If he had, he'd hidden any evidence carefully. Just like the
others.
"Not like I'm gonna stalk her anymore," Spike growled, earning a
stare from a passerby. "Just would've liked to have..." He slowed
to a halt, hanging his head with a sigh. Would've liked to have
paid her resting place, if she had one, one last visit. Would've
liked to have known if he was truly the only one left anymore.
After the huge fight with Wolfram and Hart, leaving only himself
and Illyria as the survivors, they'd buried their dead and had
headed out into the world to do what they could. The Senior
Partners had been too busy licking their wounds to bother them; the
white hats HAD done some damage before it had all been over.
After that, it had just been city after city, fighting the evil
and doing the right thing. Illyria had finally fallen, her powers
having deserted her entirely, and age had caught up on her once more
mortal body. Spike had brought her back to LA to bury her with the
others, choosing to place her alongside Wesley; he thought the two
might've appreciated the small sentiment.
After five years on his own, he'd decided to try and find Buffy.
Maybe to just see how she was doing, how the others were. Whatever
his intentions had been, they'd never been realized. Buffy had
vanished from Italy without a trace.
He'd stood, shocked at the mess her apartment had been, then had
turned around and had walked straight into Faith. They'd stared,
stunned at the sight of the other, before they'd both started asking
each other where Buffy was.
He'd gone back with her to England, and with hers and Giles' help,
he'd started a search for the lost blonde.
They'd never found her.
Spike had dropped contact with the two Scoobies years ago, after
all the fruitless results their searches had yielded. He'd lost
himself in a bottle of tequila for the next ten years, trying to
forget any of Sunnydale.
He'd gotten a rude awakening, however, upon receiving a note from
Faith that said, "Giles is gone". She'd found, among his papers, a
phone number that simply had a letter 'B' next to it. THAT had
gotten his attention, and he'd hopped on the first flight out to see
her. He'd never trusted Giles; always had thought the Watcher had
given up on his charge a little too quickly.
But when he'd reached his destination, he'd found the Slayer dead,
having lost a battle to a nest of demons. The phone number with the
mysterious letter had already been gone.
With renewed hope that someone might know where Buffy was, he'd
gone on a quest to see if the other Scoobies had known anything.
But each and every time he'd lost track of them, and then when he
had found them, he'd arrived at a dead end. Literally.
He shook himself from his thoughts. This wasn't helping. Nothing
he could do could fix the fact that he had no one left to ask. He
had no one left to confer with, to tell them the stories of the
Slayer and vampires without getting a 'you're insane' look.
He was the only one left.
Sure, there were Slayers around here and there, but the fall of
Sunnydale was more legend then reality in their minds. The ones who
had seen it, fought that battle, lived through it, had all passed
on. Leaving him alone on the earth, wanting nothing more then to
stand and wait for the sunrise.
He should've done it years ago. But no matter how many times he'd
tried, he'd had that tiny voice nagging inside of him, saying that
he wanted to see her one last time before it was all over. Owed it
to her to say his final goodbye.
"Are you going to stand there all night? You're scaring my birds
away."
The English voice surprised him, and he turned to see an elderly
woman sitting on a park bench nearby. On the bench beside her was a
cane and a small paper bag, full of what appeared to be seeds.
"Ah. Sorry 'bout that," he said, glancing down the street. What
exactly was he supposed to do now?
"Possibly take a seat next to me," the woman said, giving him a
raised eyebrow. Apparently he'd voiced his thoughts. "You look
like the type of person that could stand to feed a few birds. I
find it helps most problems in life."
In spite of himself Spike smiled at her. "Is that right?"
She nodded, her eyes twinkling with almost a youthful vigor,
surprising to see in someone her age. "Quite. You sound as if
you're from the mother country. Now come sit and tell the birds
what's on your mind."
She moved her cane and her bag, before glancing up at him with an
expectant look. He gazed at her, before slowly shaking his head and
chuckling. "That doesn't actually sound too bad," he agreed, taking
a seat next to her.
In a few moments, the birds returned, looking up at the pair as if
to tell them 'I'm here, so I'll honor you by letting you feed me'.
The old woman seemed to sense this, and gave them a scowl as she
tossed them the food. "Greedy little buggers," she said in an
almost annoyed tone. Turning to Spike, she gave him a small handful
to hand out.
Absently he tossed the food down, staring at the birds as if they
could solve all his problems. He heard a sigh beside him, and the
bench shifted slightly. "You look like you've just lost your best
friend," she said softly.
Spike smiled bitterly. "All of them, actually. Well, closest
thing to a best friend I've ever had. There was a group of us,
years ago. I'm the only one left now."
"We have something in common, then," the old woman said, causing
Spike to turn with a frown. Her smile was sad as she said, "I'm the
only one now, too."
"Hurts?" he asked, turning his attention back to the birds.
"Like a bitch," came the quaint response, causing Spike to break
out laughing. Once he started, he soon found that he couldn't
stop. He wrapped his arms around his sides and laughed until tears
streamed down his face, and he wasn't sure if they were happy or sad.
He wiped them away and glanced over at the tiny woman, who was
giving him an almost smirk. "Didn't think I had the gumption?" she
asked, and he shook his head with another laugh.
"No, I didn't," he admitted. "Sounds more like somethin' I'd say."
"Well, you didn't look like you were going to say it, so I figured
someone ought to."
They fell back into silence again, but it was more comfortable
then before. "You're right," he said suddenly, "Feedin' the birds
does help."
"I've always thought so," the old lady replied, before glancing
down at her wrist watch. She sighed, then grimaced as she began to
pull herself to her feet. Spike stood immediately, helping her
stand, until he was sure she was all right. "Thank you for taking
the time to sit with a lonely old goat like me," she said, reaching
for her cane.
"Goat?" Spike said, shaking his head with a smile. "No. A lamb,
maybe, but never a goat."
She stopped, turning to him with almost a wistful look in her
eyes. "A lamb, then," she finally said, and Spike was puzzled when
her eyes glistened as she turned away. He watched her head down the
street, his heart slightly lifted after his early morning chat with
the elderly woman.
The same elderly woman who was walking alone at night with a
cane. His eyes widened almost comically, and he raced to catch up
with her. Vampires still existed, and gumption or not, that cane
wasn't going to hold them off.
She glanced back as he came running up beside her. "Forget
something?" she asked, sounding almost amused.
"Uh, you did," Spike said, trying to think quick. "Your,
uh...your...your bag!" he said triumphantly, then realized he wasn't
holding said bag.
Now he was sure she was amused. "I left it for someone else to
find and possibly feed the birds with. Thank you for the thought,
though." She turned once more to head down the streets.
"You shouldn't be walkin' outside alone at night," Spike blurted
out. Well, it was true; she shouldn't be.
She stopped, gazing back at him with that same wistful expression
she'd had when he'd changed 'goat' to 'lamb'. "A true gentleman;
how rare these days," she finally said quietly, before offering him
her arm that wasn't using the cane. "Shall we?"
Spike smiled and took her arm. "We shall."
< --- >
Her house wasn't much: a small, white cottage with a yellow fence
around it. He gave the fence an odd look as they walked towards the
door. "It was white," she explained. "I decided it needed a
change."
They stopped at her front door, Spike desperately hoping she
wouldn't expect him to follow her in. There was a minor
complication concerning that entering without being invited in thing.
She turned to him, giving him a small smile. "Thank you for the
walk home," she said. Her smile seemed almost sad as she said it,
though.
Spike pushed his thoughts away, giving her a beaming
smile. "You're quite welcome, m'lady. It was my pleasure."
Her smile brightened at that, just as Spike had hoped it
would. "The world needs more people like you in it," she said,
pulling out a set of keys. "Do you live nearby?"
Spike shrugged. "Visitin' really, but if I like the area enough,
I might choose to stay."
It was her turn to shrug. "It's nice enough. Quiet, sunny,
though this week is supposed to be overcast. Warm, too. The sights
are okay, I suppose."
"Just okay?" Spike asked, the corner of his lips tugging up into a
grin.
She gave him a wink. "Well, when you see them over and over again
for thirty-some odd years..."
Spike chuckled, then glanced down the path towards the horizon.
The sun would be up in about half an hour. Enough time to get him
somewhere safe. Somewhere he could start his search for Buffy.
"Need to be somewhere?"
Spike turned back to the woman, nodding. "Unfortunately, but
thank you for sharin' the birdseed."
"You're welcome. Feel free to drop in anytime."
Spike raised his eyebrow at her. "I don't even know your name,
and you don't know mine. And you're invitin' me in to your home
anyways?"
The old woman nodded. "It's Anne, by the way. Terribly sorry; my
manners seem to have disappeared somewhere. Probably went with my
youth." She continued to gaze at him, her smile faltering again.
It seemed to happen anytime she mentioned being younger.
Spike decided right then and there that he really didn't like her
melancholy stare. He gave her a short bow, before grinning at
her. "William, at your service."
Her smile broadened at his show of chivalry. "Thank you,
William. You'd best get moving if you want to reach your
destination anytime soon, however: traffic starts really heating up
in about twenty minutes. It's like clockwork."
Spike nodded his thanks, and made sure she was inside before he
headed off. She reminded him of Joyce; women like that were rare
and few between these days.
He broke into a run, hoping to reach the nearest hotel without the
sun catching up to him. He could stay there for the day, and then
work out a plan to find Buffy.
Chapter: 2 of 2
WARNING: Character deaths. Much sadness in this one.
Pairing: Spike/Buffy, a little mention of Fred/Wesley.
Summary: Future fic, post Not Fade Away. In the year 2053, Spike is
still searching for Buffy, who disappeared years ago. An elderly
woman befriends him and keeps his hope alive. Maybe she can help
him find his missing love...
Disclaimer: I own none of the Buffy characters, but I do like to
borrow them. Joss is so nice to let me.
NN: I warn you now, this is a CHARACTER DEATH story. I've gotten a
lot of flaming for this one, so please, be kind in your reviews. As
always, all emphasized words and italics are 'in these'. Enjoy.
< --- >
Spike kicked at a rock despondently. All day he'd searched for a
Buffy Summers, Elizabeth Summers, ANY Summers in the surrounding
areas. The phone book had been no help, and the computer in the
lobby hadn't been useful, either. Dead ends, yet again.
Next had been hotel searches, involving phone calls for two hours
that had given him nothing. There were other places he could try
searching in, but he refused to believe that Buffy was dead. He
wasn't searching the cemeteries unless he had to.
The flutter of wings made him look up, and he couldn't help smile
as he caught sight of Anne on a bench in front of him. She was
gazing at the birds on the ground, looking just as miserable as he
felt. Spike frowned, stepping forward to ask her what was wrong.
His boot landed on a dry twig, however, and her head whipped up as
it snapped. She looked startled at seeing him, then a split second
later she was smiling at him, as if she'd never been depressed in
her life. "Something the matter?" she asked at the frown still on
his face.
"You looked miserable," he explained. "Was just wonderin' what
was wrong."
"Nothing at all; I was thinking," Anne said, almost defensively.
Spike's frown deepened. "You looked absolutely..."
"Thoughtful," Anne insisted, not giving him a chance to
finish. "Did you like the city?"
Spike's curiosity was telling him to press the matter, but common
sense told him to leave it be. If Anne didn't want to share, he
wasn't going to pry. "From what I could see, it looked nice," he
said, going with her abrupt subject change. "Not a bad place to
wind up. Not sure if it's what I'm lookin' for, though."
Anne gestured to the seat next to her, and Spike sat down beside
her. "And what would you be looking for?" she asked. "What type of
place would interest a man like you?"
"Person, actually," Spike admitted, before sighing. "Been lookin'
all over for her."
"Her?" Anne asked, eyebrows raised. "It's always a her, isn't it?"
Spike chuckled, nodding. "Isn't it, indeed. Someone I cared
about."
"Seems to me that 'cared about' isn't describing it all," Anne
said. When Spike turned to her with surprise, she gave him a
smile. "I was in love myself, once upon a time," she said softly.
"I did love her," he said, before snorting. "Hell, I still do.
But it's been years since I've seen her. Things have changed. For
all I know, she's got kids, and doesn't even 'member me at all."
"I doubt she's completely forgotten you," Anne said quietly, and
damn if she wasn't wearing that saddened, wistful look on her face
again. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the look vanished, and
she was standing with her usual small smile. Automatically Spike
stood to help her, almost missing the tiny wince she gave as he did
so. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked softly, frowning
slightly.
She gave him a broader smile, but it was weary and filled with
pain. "Arthritis," she said, trying to ease his mind. "I'll be
fine."
Spike didn't believe her for a second, but said nothing, merely
keeping his concerned gaze on her as they started towards her
house. The pain he's seen in her eyes wasn't just physical, though
there had been a lot of that, too. "Why do you come out here so
often?" he asked suddenly, desperately wanting to break the awkward
silence.
"The night's cooler than the day, and there's less people around.
I feel as if the entire world could be mine, when there's no one but
me here. It gives me time to think. I've been told that thinking
is a dangerous thing, but I'll take my chances," she said with a
grin, earning one from him as well.
The silence was more comfortable now, giving Spike his own time to
think about his next course of action. Besides driving around
shouting for Buffy (which was highly unlikely to work), he had
nothing else to do except head to the cemeteries and morgues. An
unwanted image of his golden goddess falling from a tower and
landing with a sickening thud sprang to his mind. He grimaced,
remembering the days he'd spent comforting Dawn, patrolling, then
heading to her grave every night, only to sob and scream his
frustrations and grief to the night. He wasn't sure he could keep
going if he saw another headstone bearing her name.
"I lost him when I was in my early twenties."
Spike blinked, realizing they'd arrived at her yellow picket
fence. He also realized she'd started looking miserable
again. "I'd loved him for awhile, enjoyed my time with him," she
continued quietly. "But he was going to war. A war I was so sure
he would survive.
"But he didn't. The night before he went to fight, I told him I
loved him. He was asleep at the time, never heard me say the words
to him for the first time. I was a fool. I should've told him
sooner. But I waited too late, and when I did tell him, it didn't
matter. I'd lost him forever."
She turned to him, smiling bitterly. "When you find her, tell her
how you feel. She'll appreciate it, at the very least. Don't wait
until it's too late. Take a lesson from a fool who's been there
before."
"A pretty fool," Spike corrected, slightly surprised to see her
blush. "What, you've never been told that before?"
"When I was younger," she admitted. "When I had that youthful
beauty. It's been awhile since I've been told that."
"That 'youthful beauty' still shows," Spike said. "Believe me."
Her cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink, but she gave him a
pleased smile that told him his words were appreciated. It wasn't
as if he was lying, Spike thought. She honestly was still
beautiful, and he could tell she'd been a knock-out when she'd been
younger. The guys must've been flocking.
"Would you like to come in for some tea?" she asked, digging for
her keys.
Spike shook his head. "I should get back to searchin'. But
thanks anyways."
Anne nodded, opening her door. "You're welcome anytime," she
assured him.
Spike gave her one last smile, then headed down the path. "I hope
you find her," Anne called out to him.
"So do I," Spike called back. "So do I."
< --- >
There were, as it turned out, multiple cemeteries in just the
surrounding area, so Spike swallowed his fear and began searching
them every night, after calling the morgues in the day. He found
himself making a routine path that would bring him to Anne's bench,
where he would find the old woman with her birds. She obviously
enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed hers. It was nice to have a
friend, after all his lonely years.
A week later found him searching the last of the cemeteries, with
not a single headstone with a name or date he'd recognized. "Bloody
needle in a haystack," he muttered, heading off for the familiar
park bench. Maybe Anne knew of some places he could search. Oh,
who was he kidding: he was never going to find Buffy.
He turned the corner, then stopped abruptly, staring at the park
bench in surprise. It was empty. The birds were there, but Anne
wasn't. Had she been attacked on the way?
Spike didn't realize he'd started running until he was approaching
her neighborhood. He knew the path she took, but he still didn't
see her anywhere. Maybe she was at home for the night, not wanting
to walk that evening.
"Or maybe not," he muttered, glancing up at her house. A young
couple with two children were walking in and out of the house,
carrying boxes out as they went. It seemed Anne was moving out, but
there was still no sign of her.
"Excuse me," Spike said in Greek to the nearest child. "Where's
the woman who lives here?"
"Ms. G?" the child replied, shaking her curls away from her
face. "She went to the hospital. She's moving into a place where
the nurses can help her, because she has a hard time all by herself."
Her younger brother nodded emphatically. "She's got shaky
hands, 'n has me carry things for 'er. She's a nice lady; I hope
she's okay."
"She'll be fine," his mother said, coming out with another box.
She gave Spike a friendly smile as she walked over to him, but it
disappeared into a worried look as she quietly told him, "Actually,
Anne's been having a lot of problems lately. She had a heart attack
this afternoon. The doctors are worried because this isn't the
first time it's happened. They're considering it to be the last
time, though."
Spike swallowed past the sudden knot in his throat. "Where is she
right now?" he managed to get out.
"Athens' Central Hospital. In the center of downtown."
Spike nodded his thanks and turned to go. As he did, however, his
eye caught sight of a small cardboard box slanted inside of a bigger
one. In big, black print the letters 'S-U-N-N' stood out above the
edge of the larger box. Curiosity got the best of him and he walked
over, lifting the box up to read the black word.
SUNNYDALE.
Time froze as Spike stared at the word in shock. Then he was
opening the box, still reeling from the mention of a city long gone.
Pictures were the first thing that greeted his sight. He stared
in stunned silence at the faces all smiling at him. Angel.
Cordelia. Giles. Dawn. Xander. Willow. All of them paired with
a certain blonde.
Buffy.
Spike gazed at the beaming young woman he'd been trying to find
for so many years, before putting the box back and turning to the
little girl. "What did you say her last name was?" Spike asked.
Without a pause the little girl answered, "Miss Giles."
That was all Spike needed to hear. With a nod to the girl he
quickly turned and headed towards downtown.
< --- >
It took Spike a matter of minutes to find her room. A nurse was
more than happy to show the way, and Spike gave her a quick smile
before opening the door.
The curtains were closed, the sky on the verge of lighting up for
the day. The steady heart monitor was the only sound in the room.
The lone occupant was laying back on the bed, her hands in her lap.
Spike closed the door, and she glanced up, instantly smiling at her
visitor. "This is a pleasant surprise," she said, "I'm sorry I
wasn't there for our walk, William."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Spike demanded, causing Anne to blink.
"Come again?"
"Why didn't you tell me?" he repeated, stepping towards her bed.
The question kept circling through his mind, and it wouldn't let him
be. Why any of it?
For a few moments, when she didn't answer, Spike was sure he'd
missed his guess. Then she sighed, looking down at her hands once
more. "I never could fool you," she said quietly, and all Spike
could see was Buffy. How couldn't he have seen it before? He was
blind. Had to be, to have missed something so obvious as this. The
very woman he'd been searching for had been under his nose the
entire time.
"Buffy," he began, stopping when she flinched.
"I'm not her anymore, Spike. I haven't been her for a long time."
"You're not Anne either," Spike argued, taking a seat next to her
bed. "Why didn't you tell me it was you?"
Buffy chuckled, shaking her head. "You don't get it, do you?
When you didn't recognize me, I had the chance to reintroduce
myself, be the person I'd created. I've learned a lot of things
through the years, Spike. One of them is to take second chances
when they're offered. You don't ask questions."
"You knew I was lookin' for you, though," Spike said, unable to
mask his hurt.
Buffy turned to him, looking genuinely confused. "It was 'me' you
were searching for?"
Spike blinked. She couldn't have seriously thought... "You
thought it wasn't?"
Buffy shrugged, looking down at her hands again. "You said years,
but it's been about fifty since I last saw you. I wasn't about to
mess up whatever plans you might've had with a reunion of sorts."
Gently Spike reached out to tilt her head towards him. "I said I
was lookin' for the woman I love. Last time I checked, that was
still you."
"It's been fifty years, Spike; I've become an old, frail woman,"
she said, shaking her head miserably.
Spike stared at her, shocked. "THAT'S why you always looked upset
whenever your youth was brought up?" he exclaimed. "You were
embarrassed?"
Buffy cringed. "What do you think, Spike? I lost my Slayer
strength in Italy a little after Sunnydale; health and beauty went
not too long after it. I'm a shadow of what I used to be. I
couldn't protect my friends, myself even, after I'd lost my powers,
so I fled. I was being hunted by demons eager to claim they'd
killed the famous Slayer who shut down the Hellmouth. I was also
endangering everyone else because they had to protect 'me' now. So
I fled. Like a coward," she spat. "When I saw you that first day,
I'd just found out that Xander was gone. I was hurting so much, and
then you came. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I
didn't...I couldn't..." She shook her head, her trembling hands
picking at the stray strands of her blanket.
"You thought 'I' would be ashamed of you," Spike said,
understanding finally dawning on him. Buffy said nothing.
He reached down and took her shaking hands in his steady
ones. "Don't," she whispered, as if his touch hurt her. "I'm not
the woman you fell in love with, Spike."
"You're the one I still love," Spike said quietly.
Buffy shook her head, keeping her eyes lowered. "Buffy, luv, look
at me," Spike started, but she cut him off.
"No, you look at ME, Spike. I'm over seventy years old now.
Slaying finally caught up to me, and there's some days I can't even
walk because of the damage done all those years ago. My hair is
white, I'm hidden in wrinkles, I can't stop shaking, and you..."
"Still think you're beautiful," he insisted, causing her to look
up. He smiled, his hand reach up to caress her cheek. "I don't
care if you're seven feet tall and covered in demon mucus; you're
still my beautiful Buffy, and I'll always love you."
She sniffled, but her gaze never left his. His smile began to
broaden as he realized something. "What?" Buffy asked, frowning.
"I found you," he whispered, his face bright enough to light up
the room. "I finally found you."
She smiled, before nodding slowly. "That you did. How, exactly,
if I may ask?"
"Willow," Spike said with a small shrug. "When I stayed with her
for those two last months that she had. Her last word was 'Athens',
so I took the hint."
Buffy started to reply, but cringed as she suddenly fell forward
and clutched at her chest. Instantly Spike was there, leaning
towards her with a worried frown. "Buffy?"
"Hurts," she whispered, her hand never leaving her chest. Her
other hand twisted around, clutching weakly at his right hand.
Through that simple connection Spike could feel her heart
stuttering, the lengths uneven.
"I'll get a nurse," Spike started, but Buffy shook her head.
"Don't bother, Spike. They'd just be wasting time and medicine to
delay the inevitable."
Spike stared in growing horror, before he began to shake his
head. "No, not gonna happen. You'll be fine, back on your feet in
a few days."
Buffy sighed. "You know as well as I do that I'm..."
"I just found you!" Spike shouted, then hung his head,
defeated. "I was so lonely," he continued in a softer tone. "Can't
do it again, luv."
A shaking hand ran its fingers through his hair, and he leaned
into the touch. He'd missed being comforted, cared about, thought
about, for so many years, and now the last person who could offer
him that was going to leave him? "Spike," she murmured, "'William',
please. I don't think I have a lot of time left."
"Don't go," he begged, his head whipping up suddenly. His eyes
shone with moisture as he said again, "Don't go, please. Buffy..."
"Listen to me now," she whispered, laying back on the pillows.
Her voice was raspier, and her breathing strained. "I've loved you
for such a long, long time, and I know you didn't believe me when I
said it before. But I did mean it, and I still do. I love you.
Don't forget that. No matter what happens, don't you ever forget
that."
She was really going to leave him, then. He nodded miserably, his
eyes burning and his vision blurring. "I can't do it again," he
choked out, swallowing convulsively. "Don't think I'm strong
enough."
"Then don't do it again," she told him, smiling at the surprised
frown he gave. "You've done enough for this world; we both have.
Time to move on." She closed her eyes, her hand still clutching
his. Her breathing began to slow, and the beeps of the heart
monitor began to spread out.
Spike swallowed again, his own steady hands beginning to
shake. "Buffy? Luv?"
Her eyes fluttered open, and Spike took his last chance to
memorize her emerald gaze. "I love you," he whispered.
She gave him a ghost of her usual smile, before closing her eyes
again. "Love you too," she murmured, taking a deep breath. The
beeps from the machine were even further apart now. He continued to
gaze at her, those last words of hers going around in his head,
making the occasional beeps disappear.
It took him a few moments to realize that he hadn't blocked his
hearing. Turning, he gazed at the heart monitor, which was one
endless beep now. Slowly he glanced back at his Buffy, who still
managed to look beautiful, even in death.
He stared at her lifeless form, unaware that the tears he'd held
back were finally rolling down his face. He didn't bother wiping
them away; there was no point anymore.
He rose to his feet, his eyes still locked on her. Then he was
turning towards the curtains, the golden rays of the sun peeking
through the thin material. But he didn't care.
With one last glance at his beloved, Spike reached forward and let
the sun in.
Five minutes later, the nurse, who had shown Spike the way to the
room, came in, having been alerted by the heart monitor. The only
things she saw were the old lady lifeless on the bed, and an odd
pile of dust in front of the window. She shook her head and went to
inform the doctor.
She never saw a young man appear in fields of gold, staring in
shock around him. She never saw him turn around at the mention of
his name, his eyes widening at the sight of the blonde woman in
front of him. He ran towards her, both of them laughing and crying
as she took him into her arms.
She wasn't the only one waiting to welcome him.
THE END