Disclaimer: I own nothing but my twisted view of two parting souls. All credits to the characters belong to He himself, Joss Whedon, and other affiliates.
A/N: For all you small minds out there, not to sound rude, this is a one-part fic. Enjoy. =)
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Goodbye
"Love is short, forgetting is so long."
~Pablo Neruda
It was dusk, nearly six p.m., and she was beneath the oak tree where he had asked her to be. She leaned against its broad trunk, her head turned towards the setting sun, its glimmering rays casting a glow over the eerie cemetery set before her. Yet, she remained in the shadows, watching the awing beauty but taking no position in it. She knew that her place was in the shadows and the darkness. And the irony of it, the darkness was his place too.
Him. The mere thought of him had once made her skin crawl with disgust. His presence had been loathed and filled with hostility. His very existence had been an unwanted one; she had had no desire whatsoever to accept his "company" as he followed her during the night, keeping to the still shadows without making a sound. But she had always known he was there, watching her with unabashed passionate eyes. Those eyes…that passion. Was that where it all had changed?
Slowly, he had wormed his way into her life. It had started with her slaying. He would accompany her on the rounds, beating up baddies with her here and there. It was those nights that they realized they worked as a team, an in sync embodiment of two searching fighters with shady pasts and even shadier futures. Shades…it had always been shades of black and white with him; no gray area in between. He never went half way. Especially with his love for her. When he admitted his love and she refused to return it, he never withdrew it, despite his obvious pains. And then the old aged thought came to her mind, Why me?
By that time he had made his way into her home life, including Dawn's accepting heart. She could always tell how her younger sister felt for him. From day one, she had been open and honest with the vampire who had killed many girls just like her. Yet, she bore no fear. She carried nothing but the weight of an innocent child without enough of life's experiences to jade her or make her cynical. She was a brat not to realize just how lucky she was.
Lucky to be innocent or lucky to be doted on by him? She had always cursed herself for ever feeling jealous of a fifteen-year-old girl. It was when she had become jealous, of her sister, of any other women in his life, that she had realized her possessiveness of him. And after much internal deliberation her only conclusion to her mess of emotions was that he had changed, and so had she. Probably because of him. Everything in her life had changed because of him. That bloody bleached blonde vampire had changed everything!
He had changed her heart.
And that was why she now stood beneath the leaves of a giant old oak, the light now replaced by its brother, darkness, and left with one thing on her mind. Why had he called her here tonight? There was a sudden shift in the light breeze and her skin prickled. In a beats notice, her entire being froze, all but her ever-pulsating heart. The prickles weren't from any breeze. He had arrived.
She didn't bother to turn, although sensing his presence behind her. Once upon a time it would have been an insult to keep her back turned. To refuse to acknowledge a lowly being that, in her opinion, never posed a threat that would draw need to look upon as an adversary. As if he were so beneath her that she needn't apply any thought to him. But times had changed and her turned back no longer implied an insult, but that of silent acceptance. Acceptance of his presence and his undying (no pun intended) persistence. A sudden shiver ran through her and she knew he was close.
"Buffy," he breathed into her ear. His arms were wrapping around her waist, pulling her warm body to his own cool one. Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly she felt intoxicated, drunk and misguided. Yes, everything had changed.
"Spike," she whispered in reply, leaning into his gentle embrace, basking in the wondrous moment. She looked up and met his intimidating gaze. The swirling pools of blue passion stared back and suddenly she felt her legs growing weak; but he held her up, just as he always had. A vampire holding a slayer on her feet, never letting her fall. But, she had fallen; first for his passion, and now for his being. Her voice was in a tangle and she couldn't form the words so she did what she could.
Her face drew closer to his lips: inches, centimeters, millimeters…and nothing happened. Her gaze, having never left his, saw something in his eyes. And she had stopped. Never had those eyes stopped her from doing anything; never had they told her otherwise.
She took a step back, distancing herself from the unfamiliar that had settled upon her. Unable to meet his gaze she did what she always did when she was unable to understand; she turned her back and looked the other way. Unbeknownst to her, his eyes darkened at her receding form, his hands silently clenching into fists at his sides.
"I'm leaving, Buffy." His voice pierced the silent darkness that seemingly grew heavier with each word spoken. She felt her heart begin to thud rapidly, and caught within her surprise she swirled around, fully facing him. Her sudden anxiety made her angry and she had to bite her lip to keep her harsh words from pouring out. Looking at him, she noticed that the rising moon had seeped through the branches of the oak and speckled him with its light. And suddenly her anger was gone, placed by a wraith of melancholy.
"Oh god…" Words were seemingly lost. A new darkness took hold of her, one that reminded her of Angel. Then she knew: this is how she felt when Angel left, and now Spike was leaving too. She wanted to scream, to run, to escape, to disappear…to die. All of this in one moment. But she was unable to do any of them, and the realization brought tears to her eyes. And suddenly, she was choking. Her throat was tight, her breath was trapped, and her eyes were drowning. She was drowning and nothing could stop it.
"Just remember who you are, Slayer, and you will be just fine," he said with some conviction, but his voice cracked when he used her pet name, and he had become less convincing. Somehow, though, his words were unnecessary. The silence said it all. He was leaving, and this time it was for good. This late night excursion had one purpose: to say goodbye. After a few moments of silence, she wiped away her tears and sniffled quietly. She met his steady gaze and in return her heart clenched painfully; but her face remained passive. She could not show emotion.
"So this is goodbye then…" she said, letting her words trail off into consideration. His lips pursed at her defensive stance and voice. He shouldn't have expected anything less.
"Yes, it is…love." Her eyes instantly blazed.
"Don't you 'love' me. Not now." The order, with which the words were spoken, despite the pitch of her voice, left him reeling. He reminded himself that he was in the midst of hurting her, despite her decision to fight it. He pursed his lips for a moment, before nodding mutely. Silence weighed upon them for many moments. Neither speaking nor moving except for their eyes; which, avoided the other at all costs. It was as if the two were waiting for enough time to pass before making the final move. No prolonged waiting, though, could change the inevitable, and after many passing minutes two melancholy gazes met and a silent understanding was created.
"Goodbye" their eyes said.
In unison, they turned away from the other, one towards the cemetery before her, one towards the highway before him. Neither looked back, not one or the other having the need to do so. Simply knowing that it was the last time they would ever see each other, but never the last time they would think of each other. And certainly not the last time they would love each other.
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El fin.