Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy. Joss Whedon does and he is awesome.

Summary: Spike and Angel mourn Buffy together.

Pairings: Bangel, with onesided Spike/Buffy

Haunt You

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

We'll make our agreements,

About when to meet,

And I'll leave you in the doorway,

The cold evening aches,

As it leaves in it's wake, All the memories left by the day,

And I'm questioning why,

As you look to the sky,

That it's cloudless up above our heads,

And thoughts come to mind,

That our short little lives,

Haven't left the path that they will tread,

They will tread

It was a deep, penetrating ache that consumed him from the inside out.

An utter hollowness that drained him of life-or unlife he supposed was the politically correct term-and all he could do was sit there in front of her grave, his head pressed against the cool stone and his hand placed over the fresh dirt. Contrary to what she may have believed, he did love her. Loved her more deeply than anything else in the world. Drusilla had been right, from the very start a part of him had fallen in love with her. Her brave, fighting spirit that was brighter than the sun, and as a creature that hadn't felt the sun in ages, her warmth was oh, so tempting.

Suddenly the warmth was gone. The sun had died, and he was left with this weight crushing down on his chest where his dead heart lied. There were no escape, no way to make it better. All he did was drown in the icy waters of pain, and nothing could pull him out and make him warm again like she did. He closed his eyes tightly against the flood of tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. The bruises on his cheek throbbed and he tasted blood on his tongue. He fought every last demon he could find. Physically pain gave him a distraction from it all, but at the end of the night, he always found himself back at her grave. He took in a breath, he did not need and his fingers dug into the fresh dirt harshly as another sob ripped through him painfully. "Pet...you need to get up," Spike felt tears run down his face and he let them go. There was no one to see them. "You have to get up...you're not meant to be lying down like this. Your...full of life...not death, not like me."

"Spike," a voice that he did not want to hear in that moment.

"Oh, God," Spike groaned. "It's Captain Hairgel."

Angel's eyes narrowed. There were several insults upon his tongue when he saw Spike sitting there in front of Buffy's grave, but they all fled his mind when he noticed something peculiar. "Are you crying?" Angel asked in disbelief.

"No!" Spike denied, vehemently. "And you tell anyone I was," Spike quickly wiped the back of his cheeks, "I'll...I'll..." Spike's shoulders slumped down, exhausted. He hadn't slept or fed in days, he didn't have the energy to put up with the Poof today. "I don't know what, but it'll be horrible," Spike threatened half-heartedly. "And painful."

"I'm quivering in my boots," Angel assured him, dryly. "What are you doing here, Spike?"

Spike's head snapped up and he glared up fiercely at Angel, reminding the dark haired man of the early days of William the Bloody and why he was truly feared. "You aren't the only one that loved her, Poof," Spike bit out angrily.

Angel considered Spike in silence for a long moment. Despite what most thought, the bond between Sire and grandchilde wasn't as gone as Angel wanted it to be and he felt the truth in Spike words in that moment. They echoed in his soul, and the hollow pit that was his chest got larger. "No, I'm not," Angel admitted, softly. His gaze tore away from Spike, and he looked at the grave. A part of him always knew that Buffy's life would end way too soon, but he had always hoped otherwise. Now there was no way to keep that hope alive, no brief encounters where she would send him a look and he was transported back to a time when they couldn't have loved each other more. No more calls when things got hard. No more of his bright shining girl.

She had been like a fire, bright and burning. Now that flame was gone, nothing but ashes in the wind. His heart ached, and he wished he had taken that chance on Buffy, when he had been turned into human. The only reason he gave it up was because it would prevent this, prevent her from dying. It didn't. It felt like drowning, his limbs were heavy-too heavy to swim, he was beyond that point and he just wished he had trusted Buffy and their love. Now all he had were memories left in her wake, stirring inside his mind. Haunting him, and taunting him. He could hear her voice in the whisper in the wind and feel her lips in a ghostly caress across his lips. His heart was gone. His reason to be a better man was gone, and all the years seemed so wasted. So wasted...Angel swallowed thickly, trying not to cry, trying so hard to hold in all in. But he felt the searing burn behind his eyelids, and the catch in his throat and knew that it was just a losing battle. He reached into his pocket, his fingers shaking around the Irish Wedding band that was so cold in the palm of his hand. Silently he drew it out, and he set down on the cold stone. He took a step back and stared at the stone as if he couldn't really believe that it was there.

Buffy Summers

She Saved The World A Lot

A shudder rippled through him, and his hand covered his mouth as if willing back sobs that threatened to choke him. He took in deep gulps of useless air, and rubbed his eyes to conceal the tears that had started to fall. Looking at Spike, he had never seen the bleached blond look so tormented in his entire life and for the first time, he understood Spike. "You really loved her, didn't you?" Angel murmured out, quietly.
Spike just looked up at him, blue eyes haunted.

Angel looked back at him with the same kind of look in his eyes. The two stood silently by Buffy's grave, mourning in silence until the dawn started to peek over the horizon.

I come back to haunt you,

Memories will taunt you,

And I will try to love you,

It's not like I'm above you

-Haunt, by Bastille

Hope you enjoyed! :D