Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, Spike, or Joyce. They belong to Joss and the WB. Thanx for not suing me!
The graveyard was silent, the usual shadows cast on the damp, cold ground. Buffy's eyes were trained on a flat stone, lying in the ground like all the others. Joyce Summers, devoted mother and friend.
Mother. Buffy would never have another one. There was nothing left now of the smiling, cheerful woman who would cook fabulous meals and worry constantly about her daughter. She was just another body, another faceless name on a piece of stone.
Cemeteries had never bothered Buffy before. She had buried many people without so much as a thought to her surroundings. She had even felt at home here, among the dead that occupied so much of her time. But it wasn't like that now. The dead wasn't another classmate, a postal worker, a clerk at the Exxon. This was her family, her mother, and for once Buffy felt the full tragedy of death. The fact that the earth was short another good person, and that woman would never be again.
Footsteps echoed in the darkness and Buffy didn't turn around. "In the movies." She said, her voice dry, devoid of emotion. "When someone dies, you get over it. There's like one of those One Year Later signs, and there you are, happy again."
She turned to face him, not wanting to know why he was there, not hating him, only wanting someone to talk to. "But I don't think it's like that. I don't think you ever get over it. You just cover it up, over and over again, and eventually you can think about it without crying. On the outside at least."
He looked at her, his face gentle- like the night they had shared on the porch. "It's hard." He said simply, half a question, half a statement.
"What's it like?" She asked, looking him straight in the eye and for the first time seeing what was there. "To die?"
"You know what?" He laughed, though nothing was funny. "I can't remember."
Buffy looked at the ground. "I hate it." She said, feeling like a stupid powerless child.
"Death doesn't hate you, love." His usual mocking tone was gone. "It doesn't sympathize with you either. It's impassive. It's always been there and it always will be, hanging around with its brother for far longer than we can ever imagine."
"Time." He answered her unspoken question. "Death and time go hand in hand."
"You've got plenty of time." Buffy stated. "I don't."
The silence hung steady upon the air as they contemplated this fact. Then he spoke, his voice quiet, as if he was half-hoping she wouldn't hear him. "An eternity can seem very short." He said. "When you have no one to spend it with."
Their eyes locked. It wasn't so much a way out, as a way in. She had always wanted this, Buffy realized, since the day she first saw such a creature. His face shifted, and for just a moment he hesitated, caught up in her sudden innocence.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked her, the concern shown even in this hellish face.
She gazed back at him, her eyes empty. There was no decision to be made there. The pain was clear, cleansing. It erased both of their thoughts, the blood filling mouths, sliding down throats was barely registering.
Her body slumped to the ground, and his followed the split second after, exhaustion seizing them both. And suddenly the graveyard didn't seem so scary anymore.
The graveyard was silent, the usual shadows cast on the damp, cold ground. Buffy's eyes were trained on a flat stone, lying in the ground like all the others. Joyce Summers, devoted mother and friend.
Mother. Buffy would never have another one. There was nothing left now of the smiling, cheerful woman who would cook fabulous meals and worry constantly about her daughter. She was just another body, another faceless name on a piece of stone.
Cemeteries had never bothered Buffy before. She had buried many people without so much as a thought to her surroundings. She had even felt at home here, among the dead that occupied so much of her time. But it wasn't like that now. The dead wasn't another classmate, a postal worker, a clerk at the Exxon. This was her family, her mother, and for once Buffy felt the full tragedy of death. The fact that the earth was short another good person, and that woman would never be again.
Footsteps echoed in the darkness and Buffy didn't turn around. "In the movies." She said, her voice dry, devoid of emotion. "When someone dies, you get over it. There's like one of those One Year Later signs, and there you are, happy again."
She turned to face him, not wanting to know why he was there, not hating him, only wanting someone to talk to. "But I don't think it's like that. I don't think you ever get over it. You just cover it up, over and over again, and eventually you can think about it without crying. On the outside at least."
He looked at her, his face gentle- like the night they had shared on the porch. "It's hard." He said simply, half a question, half a statement.
"What's it like?" She asked, looking him straight in the eye and for the first time seeing what was there. "To die?"
"You know what?" He laughed, though nothing was funny. "I can't remember."
Buffy looked at the ground. "I hate it." She said, feeling like a stupid powerless child.
"Death doesn't hate you, love." His usual mocking tone was gone. "It doesn't sympathize with you either. It's impassive. It's always been there and it always will be, hanging around with its brother for far longer than we can ever imagine."
"Time." He answered her unspoken question. "Death and time go hand in hand."
"You've got plenty of time." Buffy stated. "I don't."
The silence hung steady upon the air as they contemplated this fact. Then he spoke, his voice quiet, as if he was half-hoping she wouldn't hear him. "An eternity can seem very short." He said. "When you have no one to spend it with."
Their eyes locked. It wasn't so much a way out, as a way in. She had always wanted this, Buffy realized, since the day she first saw such a creature. His face shifted, and for just a moment he hesitated, caught up in her sudden innocence.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked her, the concern shown even in this hellish face.
She gazed back at him, her eyes empty. There was no decision to be made there. The pain was clear, cleansing. It erased both of their thoughts, the blood filling mouths, sliding down throats was barely registering.
Her body slumped to the ground, and his followed the split second after, exhaustion seizing them both. And suddenly the graveyard didn't seem so scary anymore.