So. This isn't great. I know. Give me feedback please! Constructive
criticism is needed! And, if anyone likes, I have the next few chapters
written.
Disclaimer..I don't own any of them. They all belong to Joss. But, oh, to own Spike.
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Spike fell to his knees in front of Buffy's grave and leaned his forehead against the cool granite of her headstone.
"Why? I ask myself that every night, love. Why couldn't I get there sooner? Why couldn't I kill that little demon bastard? Why couldn't I save Dawn...Save you?"
He paused, clearing his throat and settling back on his haunches. Roses in different stages of wilting and decay were scattered around her grave. 132. One for every night she had been gone.
"I-I promised you I would protect Little Bit. Huh, I guess she's not so little anymore. You should see her, love. She's grown up. But-God-she's like the rest of us. All of us. She's dead inside. Her eyes...they're empty and haunted. None of us know what to do without you. Cor, Slayer, you always knew. And when you didn't you pretended you did.
"The whlep- Xander -and Anya are gettin' married. I would give my unlife for you to be able to see them together. They're the best off of us. They have someone.
"The witches aren't gettin' on so well. Willow's been...a zombie. And Tara just.. is We all just are. We're lost, Buffy. We don't know what to do.
"I swore I'd protect Dawn to the end of the world, and so help me I will, but... I can't protect her from herself. She-She's the worst off. I haven't heard her speak in days. She's not eating."
He thought of Dawn-his Dawn- with her pale skin stretched over her bones. The dark circles under her dead, emotionless eyes. The absence of her tinkling laughter and the shine of her beautiful smile. His Dawn was dead. She as well as the others had died along with Buffy that night.
The tears spilled over. The scarlet smearing across the alabaster of his face. They spilled over onto the wilted roses and shone in the moonlight.
"Tell me what to do, Buffy. I need you. We need you," he sobbed, his head thrown skyward. Overcome with grief, Spike pitched forward and clung to the cold rock. The only thing he had left of his fallen Slayer. The only thing he could hold onto.
He wept until he was exhausted before he laid the night's rose-a red so dark it was almost black-on the ground and walked into the night. Towards Dawn and the others. Towards home.
Disclaimer..I don't own any of them. They all belong to Joss. But, oh, to own Spike.
_______________
Spike fell to his knees in front of Buffy's grave and leaned his forehead against the cool granite of her headstone.
"Why? I ask myself that every night, love. Why couldn't I get there sooner? Why couldn't I kill that little demon bastard? Why couldn't I save Dawn...Save you?"
He paused, clearing his throat and settling back on his haunches. Roses in different stages of wilting and decay were scattered around her grave. 132. One for every night she had been gone.
"I-I promised you I would protect Little Bit. Huh, I guess she's not so little anymore. You should see her, love. She's grown up. But-God-she's like the rest of us. All of us. She's dead inside. Her eyes...they're empty and haunted. None of us know what to do without you. Cor, Slayer, you always knew. And when you didn't you pretended you did.
"The whlep- Xander -and Anya are gettin' married. I would give my unlife for you to be able to see them together. They're the best off of us. They have someone.
"The witches aren't gettin' on so well. Willow's been...a zombie. And Tara just.. is We all just are. We're lost, Buffy. We don't know what to do.
"I swore I'd protect Dawn to the end of the world, and so help me I will, but... I can't protect her from herself. She-She's the worst off. I haven't heard her speak in days. She's not eating."
He thought of Dawn-his Dawn- with her pale skin stretched over her bones. The dark circles under her dead, emotionless eyes. The absence of her tinkling laughter and the shine of her beautiful smile. His Dawn was dead. She as well as the others had died along with Buffy that night.
The tears spilled over. The scarlet smearing across the alabaster of his face. They spilled over onto the wilted roses and shone in the moonlight.
"Tell me what to do, Buffy. I need you. We need you," he sobbed, his head thrown skyward. Overcome with grief, Spike pitched forward and clung to the cold rock. The only thing he had left of his fallen Slayer. The only thing he could hold onto.
He wept until he was exhausted before he laid the night's rose-a red so dark it was almost black-on the ground and walked into the night. Towards Dawn and the others. Towards home.