By: Stephanie "The crisis will come in an instant." That was the prediction Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made when asked of the end of the world. I never really thought about that quote until now. I never thought I would be waiting for that instant.
People never think the end of the world is coming until it's already to close to avoid. And by then, you don't have time to deal, let it sink in. All that is left in fear and confusion and general chaos. People aren't prepared, they aren't ready for the grand finale.
You also never dream that during the end of days you would be waiting out your last hours with a man you loathed. That you would be stretched out on your mother's sofa, wrapped in his arms and silently praying that the end will come soon just to kill your anticipation. But I guess nothing can be expected of the end of the world.
Spike was the only one I had left; the only person in my life who hadn't been taken already by the coming apocalypse. They had all died. Fires. Drownings. Car crashes. The Hellmouth was going beserk, and taking many lives with it.
It's almost ironic that the one person left is the one man I couldn't stand only weeks before. Time changes things. And so does a crisis. Spike, my once violently disliked enemy, is now the man who can somewhat comfort me in these tumultuous moments.
He understands me. He knows exactly what I'm going through, because he's here with me, going through it along the way. We both want to fight this, fight off our end. But this isn't a demon on patrol, or a pesky vampire ruining my new outfit. No, this is it. The end. And it can't be fought.
We don't want to die. At first, I doubted how much he really wanted this world to survive, how much HE wanted to live. That kept me closed off from him for a while. But I've come to realize that Spike doesn't want to give up this world just yet. He isn't finished with whatever he wanted to do in his lifetime, however long that would have been. That's the connection. We both still have ties to the world. Bu we can't fight for them.
So we lay here, silent. Waiting. At times it's so quiet I start to believe we're already dead. But then a scream comes from some poor soul outside and the reality of it all comes crashing back. We have our own little Utopia here, hidden away from the world. It gives us the illusion that it's safe. That is, until something reminds us that we aren't. And something always reminds us.
Few words are spoken between us. Few are needed. What would we say? "I'm scared."? That is the only thought I can get through my mind. He thinks it too, you know? Sometimes I see it in his eyes when I look at him. We're both children again, wondering when the storm will be over.
Spike is what keeps me grounded most days. I wake up and think it was all a dream, a horrible nightmare. Of course then the tears come, because it isn't. He holds me and whispers to me. Once I even noticed him crying with me. And the tears come for so many reasons: I'm the Slayer but I can't fight, I can't do anything. I just have prophecies, which all say the same thing: the end of days. Why is this happening? Why now? When my life was starting to get good. When Slaying was getting easier and I was learning about so many things. Mom's surgery went well and I was planning all this time with her to catch up on everything. I was planning my future. Things were looking up. Then I find out from Giles that the apocalypse has been foretold and that there's no stopping it. Everything stopped there.
That was four weeks ago, almost a month. Soon after the strange occurrences started. The fires that came up from nowhere. The sudden rains and windstorms. The shutdowns of millions of computers. Hell on earth. People were crazy, neglecting laws and hurting each other. For a while it was a vampire's paradise, free food all night. I patrolled, but things were too hectic to keep up with.
That's when Giles died. Car crash. It was devastating, ruined the little hope I had left.
They all died, one by one. And each time I would find out, a little piece of me would die inside, give up. I was on the brink of complete shutdown when Spike found me. He was the same, not heartbroken, but frightened and worried. He kind of loped along beside me for a while without my permission. Soon I accepted that he wasn't going anywhere and instead reminded myself that he was the only living remainder of my life. We were joined at the hip unknowingly for a while there, afraid one of us might leave or be killed, letting the other fend for themselves.
Once we grew used to each other and decided to stay at my house, things got less confusing and more fearful. Because we knew what was to be done, what we had left to do: wait.
It was perhaps harder than the trying to protect the people. This was about protecting ourselves, which couldn't be done. Neither one could protect the other. It's the kind of hopelessness that fills you to the core, makes you hollow.
He said it to me once, made me face the truth. "We aren't going to live, pet. You know that, right?" I cried, and he held me, the pain too much for either of us. Everything caught up with me in that second. Everything that was going on and that had happened was crashing into me like waves on a shore. One memory after another until I had cried myself out.
We're lying here, listening to nothing and everything at the same time. The silence is filling up the room. I'm aware of the way it feels to have him hold me, so close and tight. Like if he were to let go I might drift away from him. Maybe I would, I'm not sure of anything anymore.
We know the end is today. Everything has doubled in intensity and fear. The churches are holding their last mass. The families are counting the hours they have left to be with their loved ones. Others are running through the streets, hoping to find whatever it is that will bring them peace before death. And us? We are cherishing the moments of silence that we are blessed with.
He looks down at me as I raise my head from his chest. Our eyes lock, drowning in each other like people who know their time is almost over. He brushes his fingers through my hair as he speaks, soft and low, to me. "I know you're scared, luv. But it'll all be okay soon."
I want to scream at him. I want to kiss him. I want to do so many things that the current situation will not allow. Instead, my voice cracking with tears, I whisper, "When?"
Spike always had a way about him. Like he knew what you meant when you spoke to him. He understands what I am asking. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he responds, "Tomorrow."
Tomorrow. The word hangs in the air, like a puppet dancing on his strings. We both know what he means. Tomorrow will never be, it will never come. And I know that now.
Without warning, the earth is shaking, and the house is practically bouncing on it's foundation. Screams are echoing through my ears from the outdoors, but all I focus on is staying as close to Spike as possible. Neither will let go. It's getting extremely warm in the room, like we're in front of a bonfire. I want to cry, but can't. Hugging Spike, the one man who understands me best, I simply hope it'll be over soon. I'm scared, who wouldn't be? And I know he is too, he's shaking a bit. I tighten my arms around him and squeeze my eyes shut. Oh God…
Soon, it was over.
And tomorrow never came.
