Title: In Memoriam

Author: Just Me - justme@buffywallpapers.co.uk

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the storyline, so don't sue 'cause you won't get much.

Summary: An over the word limit response to J.A.I.Ts 'Guess the Mood' challenge on the BC&S board, using the list of moods at http://www.jaegecko.com/mood/ - 'Though I'm not good with defining moods; I'm like Meg Ryan's character in French Kiss "Happy - smile - Sad - frown - use the corresponding face for the corresponding emotion"; so I've probably mixed up my moods somewhat. See the Authors Notes at the bottom of the fc, for the mood used.

Spoilers: None - however it does hint heavily at a Buffy/Spike relationship

Updated: 17/01/2002 - I've made a small addition to the wording on the gravestone, hopefully people will no longer be confused by whose grave it is. 'Though if you'd watched the season 5 episode Fool for Love at all it really should be obvious.

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Sunnydale - June 2010

***

It was unnaturally cold for June; the sky was overcast and the air tasted prickly to the tongue. The young woman shivered as she knelt down upon the frost tipped grass; a bouquet of roses, Sweet William's and Baby's Breath sat reverently on her lap. She plucked a single white rose from the posy and placed it delicately at the base of a moss hewn grave marker.

"I can't stay long, everyone's waiting for me, I just came to show you my dress," she laughed as she fought to tame her unruly veil, which was being whipped into a frenzy of satin and lace by a sharp breeze, "bit much isn't it, but Buffy insisted on the full puffy meringue effect. I think she's living out her 'white picket fence' fantasies through me."

She rearranged her gown and began to pick the blue forget-me-nots and pink tinged daisies that were fighting for a glimpse of daylight amongst the unkempt blades of grass.

"The ceremony was wonderful, everything I could've hoped for. Billy looked gorgeous and so did I of course! It's a shame you two never got to meet, you would've liked him. Actually he reminds me a lot of you… guess that's why I picked him hey, 'cause of my, not so secret, crush on you." she smiled, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and busied herself by threading a handful of daises together.

"I really wish you could've been there, it wasn't the same without you. Giles walked me down the aisle, Xander hovered around like an over-protective brother, Anya… oh God; Anya gave me advice on how to please a man… something about champagne, scented candles and a Jacuzzi. Jeez embarrassing much! What's scarier though is that I think Willow and Tara were off somewhere giving Billy the groom's version of that little talk; that should make for an interesting honeymoon."

Once again, bright laughter filled the peaceful cemetery before fading away with the wind as a look of sombre reflection cast its shadow over the young woman's striking features. 

"Buffy's putting on a brave face; she thinks that she's fooling us all but I see how unhappy she is. She's still grieving for you." Graceful fingers ceased their childlike, daisy chain games and were now absently toying with the heart shaped diamond necklace worn around her tanned neck, "She let me wear this today as the 'Something Borrowed' part of that silly old rhyme. It's really beautiful. I can remember going to the mall with you when you bought it for her; we must've looked at a thousand different necklaces that day. After you died she stopped wearing a crucifix and started wearing this instead. Buffy says it gives her all the protection she needs."

She let the necklace fall back into the hollow of her throat and leaned forward to trace a fingertip across the weather beaten lettering, roughly carved into the face of the gravestone, idly picking at the moss that was obscuring the epitaph.

"Oh! I nearly forgot; Buffy told me to tell you that we're having 'Wind beneath my wings' for the first dance, she said you'd find that funny. All those dancing lessons you gave me are finally going to pay off, although I don't think the Charleston will be featuring at the reception and I can pretty much guarantee we won't be having a mosh pit."

A broad grin settled upon her lips as she recalled evenings spent listening to Beethoven as she perched her own sneakered feet on top of another, more sturdily booted, pair and was whisked around in dizzying circles, her hair streaming like mahogany coloured silk behind her, before being plunged into an unexpected dip. Her squeals of surprise invariably brought her sister running into the room, ready to protect the last vestige of her family from whatever unspeakable evil was threatening her that day.

"Hey Dawnie," The lilting tones of her sister's voice startled the wistful young bride out of her reverie, "you should get back to Billy. The photographer's finished setting everything up and he's getting pretty impatient; I think I heard him mention charging extra so..."

"I was just about to head back, the photographer will just have to keep his, totally obvious, wig on." Dawn kissed her fingertips and touched them lightly to the cold granite surface of the gravestone. "Are you coming?" she asked.

"I'll be there in a minute."

Buffy found herself on the receiving end of one of Dawn's intense hugs and laughed as her sister grabbed yards of tulle and georgette into two tightly clasped fists and ran with wide, athletic strides towards the church.

She felt the warm rays of the sun on her face, as it pushed its way through the dense cloud cover. The photographer would no doubt be pleased at the opportunity to save money on flash bulbs, by using natural sunlight.

As if to mock the occupant of the urn buried in the earth beneath it, a beam of sunlight illuminated the surface of the gravestone, revealing the incongruous date which had been etched by a carpenter turned impromptu stonemason, whose tools were more used to oak than stone.

William Hunter

(Spike)

1855 – 1880 – 2002

Omnia Vincit Amor

***

The immaculately tended grave stood as a mark of devotion amongst the overall neglect of the cemetery.

"I miss you."

The whispered sentiment was swiftly carried away by the breeze. Three words which barely skimmed the surface of the feelings she had for the being whose spirit, tenacity and sheer bloody-mindedness had finally broken down the walls she'd built around her heart.

Sighing deeply, Buffy's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she gazed momentarily at the memento mori symbolizing the final chapter of her love story, before turning away and walking towards the sounds of laughter coming from beneath the lych gate where the happy couple posed for illustrations of their own love story.

***

~Fin~

Authors Notes: To clear up some confusion William Hunter is my take on Spike's name when he was a human. - Omnia Vincit Amor, roughly translated from the latin, means Love Conquers All. I also took a few liberties with Spike/William's age at the time of his turning, in this story he was 25 years old when he met Drusilla in the barn. Spike/William's surname is borrowed from my great-grandfather John Hunter.

The mood of this fic is Nostalgic - A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.