Smoke
by Alexandria 

Smoke

I knew when I opened the door that I would find him there. The perfect
place for him, really, pretending to hide from us all while still watching
out for our captive, standing sharp eyed guard while simultaneously
pretending not to care. Oh yeah, I knew I would find him there.

I watched as he tried to spark the lighter, cursing as he flinched from
the pain. My heart lurched as I saw those blood drenched bandages once
again. His palms were sliced down to the bone, Anya told me. The blade
nearly sliced his hands in two. And I’m fairly certain even super vamp
healing wouldn’t have solved that.

I crossed the room with a few short strides, sighing slightly, reaching
for the lighter. I had to do it, it was very nearly the only pleasure he
had left in his life. Taking the lighter, I held the flame so that he
could light the cigarette, the irony of all the times I yelled at him to
put out the damn fag not lost on me. The damn fag. Fuck, he’s gotten to
me so much I even think in Cockney. He just nodded once, then said
something I never really expected to hear coming from those lips.

“Thanks”

You know, I’ve heard that one word can stop the world. I even believe
that now, now after all I’ve seen. And that one word stopped mine.
Thanks. Spike thanked me. Me. For some tiny act of kindness. And in
that moment, as the smoke swirled around him and I saw those pale features
dim and fade I saw it all, time expanding and contracting in the space of
a beat of my heart.

I saw him standing in the hallway of the old Sunnydale High School,
stalking forward like death itself. I saw him drunk and lonely, pining
for Dru. I saw him in the wheelchair, frustration pouring off him in
waves. I saw him bloody and beaten and bruised, nearly killed that night
at Willy’s. I saw the manic glee when he realized he could fight demons.
I saw the look on his face as he turned us against one another. I saw him
fighting with us against Adam. I saw all those times that he came to help
when he could have stayed away. I saw him tied to my chair.

Still more images washed past me, fresh, raw. I saw the way he looked at
Dawn when he thought no one could see, the way that I desperately wished
an older brother would look at me. I saw the way he watched over her and
not just because of Buffy and not just because he needed to care for
someone now that he had no Dru. I saw that he loved her as he would his
own flesh. I saw that he would willingly die for her.

More pictures and the pain of them closed my throat. I saw how he looked
at Buffy. How he looked at Buffy. How he looked at Buffy. How he looked
at Buffy. That sight was nothing new, it tore me in two every time. How
he looked at Buffy. The way I wished he would look at me. I saw him with
the Buffybot and for a brief moment the pain rippled through me again.
But that was gone, replaced almost immediately with the image that now
haunted my dreams.

I saw him lying on the cold, cold marble of the tomb, face battered and
bruised. I saw my hands shake was I washed the wounds. I saw the way I
turned my face to the side, not letting him see how much it hurt to see
him in pain. I saw myself walk out and leave him there, alone and in
agony. I saw it all, every single word and every single insult. I saw it
all, all the way back.

And then I saw forward. I saw that he knew this was a lost cause. I saw
that he knew we wouldn’t all be coming out of this alive. And I saw that
he was determined that at Buffy would be standing at the end. I saw more,
I saw Glory striding briskly forward, moving straight for Buffy. I saw
him throw himself in front of her. I saw him turn to dust as the stake
slid home. I saw myself screaming in agony. I saw every single lost
chance. All that, in the space of a heartbeat.

I turned and leaned back, sliding the lighter in my pocket as I did so.
Yeah, I saw it all. And I wondered what he saw reflected there in my
eyes.

“You know those things’ll kill you.” I spoke the words, just to hear my
voice. Just to shake the image from my mind. Just to think about
something else, anything else. I ran my fingers over the lighter in my
pocket. At least now I had a piece of him, no matter how small.

I saw him just shoot me a glare and the idiocy of my words hit me hard.
It was getting harder and harder to remember that he was already dead.
“Oh. Right.”

I glanced around, the pain building again in my chest. So damn close. So
damn far. “Have I told you today how much I don’t like you?” I had to
say it, just to keep things clear. After all, it’s pretty much the truth.
I don’t like him that much. Love is something else entirely after all.
You don’t have to like to love. I learned that lesson a long, long time
ago.

“Might ‘ave let it slip in . . . once or twice.” I heard the amusement
in his voice and looked up, catching his eye briefly. I let a grin crease
my face as one creased his. A moment, just one where we let the barriers
down and forgot that we were supposed to hate one another. Just that one.

Then it was gone and then reality kicked back in and then we were talking
about death and destruction. And then the moment came and Glory was there
and I saw him do it, I saw him throw himself into the fray. And I didn’t
stop to think, I just acted and I threw myself on him and knocked him
away. I had to you see. I couldn’t just let him end like that.

And now we’re back in Sunnydale and hell on earth is finally about to
occur. There’s only a few short hours until we fight and he’s walking
beside me, wreathed as always in the smoke that I always smell when I
think of him. And death is coming, hard and fast, I know it and I know he
knows it. He’s still fighting though, determined to rage until the bitter
end. He knows a bloke. So we’re walking to see if there’s some last
little scrap of hope. We’re walking together and this will probably be
the last chance I ever get to be alone with him. And I look over and see
his face, shimmering behind that gray veil and I open my mouth to finally
speak, to say the words. But he’s looking away and I can’t think of how
to begin. And then moment is gone, blown away in the cool night air,
curling out of my grasp like a wisp of that smoke.