It is dark, dank, and cold. An endless cave. Death, despair and bloodshed are raging all around her. Thousands of screaming girls. Out of the din, there is one painful roar. It is him. Light is shooting from his chest, from his soul, killing every vampire within the vast underground of hell. He is frozen by the pain, she is frozen by the love she suddenly feels for him. No. Not suddenly. She has known for quite some time, but she was too afraid to admit it. Now she watches, before he tells her to run.
Buffy shot up, woken by the terrifying dream. Yet, the sad part was, it wasn’t a dream. It really happened. Her sheets were damp with a sheen of sweat and she was crying. Every night she dreams, remembers.
Each night she dies.
It has been a year since that fight, her very last one in Sunnydale. The town that had been her home for seven years now sits as a black pit in the ground. Somewhere, in the vast emptiness of the hole, lies Spike’s body. The thought made Buffy cry.
Dawn came rushing into the room, desperate to stop her sister’s seemingly endless crying. It was a nightly routine. Instead of older sister comforting younger, the roles were reversed. Buffy cried, an aching pressure on her chest as she tried to forget that night.
The move to Los Angeles was supposed to have been a fresh start. In theory, at least. Since they no longer had a home in Sunnydale, Buffy and her friends moved to LA, where they joined with Buffy’s ex boyfriend Angel at Angel Investigations. It was kind of perfect, Buffy decided. It was a chance to use her slayer powers, which she still had, but not have to be the sole person upon whom the fate of the world rested. There were now tons of Slayers around the world, anyone that would have been called if she and Faith had died. So she went through the routine, slaying and helping Angel, but she felt empty. It was something akin to what she felt when she had come back from the dead. Thinking about that time made her even sadder. Spike had been the one who had made her feel. Granted, what went on with Spike was only to punish her, but he still made her feel.
Now he’s gone. And all she’s left with is regret. Dawn left the room convinced that Buffy was okay. Buffy always put on the front that she was okay, that she wasn’t being torn apart inside. She never told anyone what she dreamed about, but they knew. For once in their lives, Buffy’s friends were not oblivious to her pain. Buffy laid her head back down on her pillow, staring blankly at the wall, wishing she could somehow see his face.
“How long was I gone?”
“Uh, a hundred and forty seven days yesterday, one hundred and forty eight today. ‘Cept today doesn’t count, does it?”
It had been longer than one hundred and forty seven days since he died. One hundred and forty seven turned into two hundred forty seven, and then three hundred forty seven. Then a year came. It had been over a year. Way longer than one hundred and forty seven days. So much time since she had seen him….
In her uneasy slumber, the slayer wept.
***************
Life went on as usual. Only for Buffy, it wasn’t life. Life had ended when he died, when all the light had left her world, leaving her to stumble around aimlessly in a world that was full of shades of gray. No. There was no color in her world. Not the yellow of the sun, which made her think of him. Or the black of night, which again made her think of him, a creature of the night. Not red because he wore red shirts, or blue because of his eyes. She couldn’t think about bleached blond hair, because of obvious reasons. Buffy didn’t see the world in color anymore.
“Are you okay?” Angel asked one night as they were patrolling. Buffy had dodged the question as best she could, choosing instead to focus on dusting a vamp that jumped in front of her.
“I’m fine.” She said, easily dusting the vamp. “Why do you ask?” Angel had shrugged his shoulders.
“You don’t seem okay, Buffy. I mean, you cry all the time, you spend a lot of time in your room. It just doesn’t seem like you.”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You miss him, don’t you?” Dawn asked one day as they were researching the latest demon. Buffy waited a moment before responding.
“Who, Dawnie?” Her younger sister looked away, unsure of how to approach the subject. Spike was an uneasy topic of conversation ever since they left the ruins of Sunnydale. Even Xander, who had hated Spike with a burning passion, was at least a little bit sad that Spike had died. But it was Buffy every one had worried about, given how she felt about the vampire.
It had taken everyone a little while to actually admit that Buffy felt something other than lust for the young vampire, but they had come to the conclusion that she did love him.
“Spike.” Buffy got the same pained look on her face that she did every time someone mentioned his name.
“Yes,” Buffy said, softly. “I do miss him.” More than anyone could ever hope to know, Buffy thought to herself, flinching as the cold hand of loneliness snaked through her chest and grabbed her heart in a firm grip.
“What happened down there? I mean, before you came running after the bus.” Buffy looked away, the tears already coming to her eyes. It didn’t take much to make her cry these days. The thought of Spike, the mention of Spike and anything else having to do with Spike brought tears to Buffy’s eyes at the drop of a hat.
“The amulet that Angel had brought, uh, started shooting light out of his soul. I tried to get him to come out, but he decided to stay.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, and Buffy involuntarily clamped her eyes shut as she tried to erase the memories that flooded her mind. “I’m not sure what happened after that because he told me to run. And I did. I left him down there to die.”
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” She thought she heard Dawn speak, but her voice sounded far away. “Hello? Earth to Buffy?”
"Sorry, just thinking.” Dawn sighed, internally of course, and went back to researching the demon. Not much got done that night. Buffy was distracted, and Dawn’s head was starting to hurt. Xander was up in his room, mourning Anya, Giles was happy in England and Spike...well, yeah.
Dawn always watched Buffy. Her facial movements, the way she stared off into space, when she woke up at night screaming. Dawn knew that something bad had happened down there. Or something good, as the case may be, so much so that Buffy was still tortured by dreams of it a year later. It was very much akin to when she had been brought back from the dead. There was the same silence, the same withdrawn woman. To be honestly truthful, it scared Dawn.
“I’m worried about her,” Dawn told Giles that night on the phone. The former watcher sighed, as he often did. “It’s like a repeat of when she was brought back to life. She’s moody, withdrawn, she cries all the time. And she has nightmares. She doesn’t eat or sleep. It’s starting to scare me, Giles.”
“I understand how hard this must be,Dawn,” Giles said. “But there is obviously something that Buffy isn’t telling you. Yes, I believe she’s mourning, but I have no explanation for the nightmares.” He didn't have anything constructive to tell her. She and Giles talked for a few more minutes, said their goodbyes and hung up.
The hotel felt empty. Dawn knew that Buffy was in her room, just down the hall from Angel’s, probably just staring at the wall. She made her way to her sister’s room, and carefully opened the door. Buffy was in the window seat, staring out at the full, silver colored moon.
Dawn took a minute to just look at her sister. Her hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail, the hairstyle du jour. She wore jeans and a baggy tee-shirt, and no makeup. Buffy seemed less concerned with her look these days. There were bags under her eyes, and the normally life filled green eyes held sorrow and regret. She stayed out late patrolling most nights, and was in her room a lot otherwise. Buffy, Dawn reckoned, was giving Angel a run for his money in the brooding department.
“Hey, Dawnie.” Buffy said, forceful cheerfulness abound. Same old defensive strategies every time. “Whatcha doin’?” Dawn shrugged her slender shoulders.
“Nothin’” She sat down on her sister’s bed, and sighed, not sure how to start the conversation. “Why are you having nightmares?” Buffy looked away.
“I saw Spike start to die, Dawn, and that’s not something that you forget very easily. Plus that was a very hard battle.” Dawn cocked her head.
“What happened?” It was Buffy’s turn to sigh. “We were fighting, and the amulet started to work. All of a sudden, there was white light shooting out of his chest, coming from his soul. He was pinned there, and he called me over.” Buffy paused. “He told me that he had to stay and clean up. I told him...I said...” Buffy started to cry.
“Said what, Buffy?”
“I told him that I loved him. I had grabbed his hand and our hands started to flame. All of a sudden, this feeling just washed over me and I knew that I loved him. I had known for a long time. So I told him.” The tears were coming faster now. “He told me that I didn’t, but thanks for saying it.” Dawn looked shocked.
“Buffy, oh my God. No wonder why you’re having nightmares. To have finally admitted that you love him only to lose him had to be…hard.” Buffy nodded, wiping the tears from her face.
“Yeah, but that’s my problem. I don’t want you to say anything to anybody, Dawnie, okay? It’s just the memory of the battle and the pain of losing Spike that’s making me not able to sleep.” The younger Summers sister nodded. “This is just between us.” Dawn got up.
“I’ll let you get some sleep.” Buffy nodded, and Dawn paused. “I miss him, too.” That having been said, she walked out of the room, leaving Buffy alone yet again. I’ll bet you do, Buffy thought to herself, feeling horrible immediately afterwards. Of course Dawn missed Spike. He helped her with homework, looked out for her after Buffy died, and always had her back. But Dawn didn’t love Spike the way that Buffy did.
She glanced back at the silver moon, and suddenly she could see herself sitting on the front porch of the house on Revello the night before the battle, staring up at the moon. It gave her a sick feeling of déjà vu. Now there were no more houses on Revello Drive, because there was no Revello because there was no Sunnydale. Her home had been destroyed, along with her belongings and her hope.
Then she saw herself touching Spike’s cheek, caressing it, before they headed off to bed, not to have sex, but to just lie in each other’s arms.
“I don’t what I would have done if you’d gone up those stairs.”
She involuntarily clamped her eyes shut, and there was no more view of the moon. Suddenly, there were never enough tender touches or embraces or kind words spoken.
“Spike? Could you stay here?”
“Sure. That diabolical torture device, the comfy chair. Do me fine.”
“No. I mean here. Will you just hold me?”
No. Those few nights where he just held her in his arms, like spun glass, they weren’t enough. She suddenly ached for more, to just feel his reassuring arms around her, giving her much needed strength. But there would be no more tender anything.
And Buffy was left alone, making useless wishes on the stars.
***********************
“You listen to me. I’ve been alive a bit longer than you and dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood which doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain so I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of: you.”
He reached for her face, but she misinterpreted his intention and turned away.
“Hey, look at me. I’m not asking you for anything. When I say I love you, it’s not because I want you, or because I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You are a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy.”
When Buffy woke up, tears were streaming down her face. She ran a hand through her knotted hair, sighing. Oh how his words had affected her. It had made her cry, but it had also made her realize just why Spike loved her. And the sheer strength behind his words had been what had given her the strength to go face Caleb. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down, she got up. As she trudged downstairs, Buffy told herself that it would get better, that it would stop hurting. She had been telling herself that everyday for the past year. It hadn’t happened yet. The clock on her wall said 7:00 a.m.
There was no one in the hotel’s vast kitchen, so Buffy helped herself to a Tab. Almost as an afterthought, she grabbed an apple and sat down on the round, padded bench in the center of the room, facing the kitchen. Munching idly, the slayer wondered just how long it had been since she had had a good night’s sleep. Probably a year, maybe a year and a half. Actually, it was probably longer than that. Either way, Buffy felt the fatigue deep in her bones.
She missed him deeply. There was no more sarcasm, no dumb British words she didn’t understand. There was no more tenderness, no more strength so selflessly given, and no more unending love. No more life. Hers had ended when his did. Now she walked through her days like a robot, just as she had when she had been brought back from the dead. She tried to convince everyone that she was okay, but she wasn’t. Every day she was torn to pieces when she woke up and realized he wasn’t there.
“What’s it like for you, Xander? To know that Anya won’t be coming back?” Buffy had asked him one day. He had looked away, not sure if he was ready to have this conversation.
“Like my heart’s being ripped out repeatedly and nothing I can do will put it back together again. It feels like everything good has been taken away, that we weren’t given a fair chance. We could have tried again, you know. But we’re never going to get that chance.” Buffy had nodded, feeling the exact same way. “Is that how you feel about Spike?”
“Yeah,” Buffy had replied. “I feel very much like…a robot. I’m walking and talking and going about everyday business, but something’s missing. Something vital. I hate to think about colors too, you know. Every color reminds me of him. Red, blue, black, blond, everything. So I see a world in gray, so I don’t have to be reminded.”
“I never even got to tell Anya that I still loved her.” Xander said, shaking his head. “That’s what gets me everyday.”
The thought that she had finally told Spike what she had known for years only to have him taken away left her heart hurting, breaking more every day until there was nothing left. He had always told her that she loved him, that he loved her, but she had never believed him. She never believed that a vampire without a soul could ever love somebody. Even when he got his soul, she still refused to let herself believe that he could ever really love her. He was gone; she was finally secure in that fact that they really did love each other.
Now they would never be together.
She took a bite of apple, chewing thoughtfully when she sensed something behind her. She turned around, and the can of Tab slipped from her hand when she saw the figure standing in the lobby of the hotel. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and her knees went weak.
“Hello, luv.”
Chapter Two
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