Black.
It had been black only a few moments before. Now it was gray, slowly changing to purple.
Spike sighed and through his newly lit cigarette onto the ground.
He didn't feel like smoking it anyway.
It always reminded him of her.
She'd tell him to put it out. That he'd give her lung cancer or influenza or some other bloody disease through second-hand smoke.
Of course, he'd put it out.
Maybe he was as whipped as Peaches, but he didn't care. There wasn't anything he wouldn't have done for her.
Spike's mind wandered back to a time several years before. When he'd offered to kill Dru for her. He'd been willing to do anything, anything at all, but she'd still rejected him, told him a soulless demon couldn't love.
Of course she'd been wrong. Terribly wrong. Because if she'd been right he wouldn't be standing here. He wouldn't be standing by the grave, wouldn't have shed tears, wouldn't have remained there even as the colors in the sky began to change with the sunrise.
It was purple now.
Spike's mind wondered off again. This time to memories warmer and happier than the earlier one.
She had rejected him....at first.
Then came the day she'd learned about his chip. The bloody thing hadn't worked since Dru had, for lack of a better explanation, talked him out of the pain.
Of course he'd tried to feed at first. He'd caught a teenager walking trough the dark streets of Sunnydale, and had quickly sank his teeth into the boy's throat.
Then as Spike began to suck him dry, something had happened.
He'd stopped.
Something had happened because for some reason, one he still had no real explanation for, he couldn't bring himself to kill the boy.
Spike had dropped the him, and the teenager quickly ran off.
Why couldn't he kill him?
It took Spike a while to realize the answer.
He hadn't done it, because it would hurt her.
Yes, the Slayer. Maybe indirectly, but it still would have hurt her, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do that.
Because somehow, either from being under the chips power too long, or possibly even from his new found love for the Slayer, Spike, the soulless demon, had developed a conscience.
Spike's mind came back to the present.
The sky was now a reddish pink.
He bent down to the headstone, and ran his fingers gently over the name.
Buffy Summers.
Once again his mind drifted to the past.
She'd eventually found out about the chip, and for some odd reason, had finally felt something for him other than disgust.
Maybe it was pity, Spike couldn't be sure, but she'd finally agreed to give him a chance.
He remembered she'd seemed reluctant at first, but as time went on, she'd seemed happy. Happier than she'd ever been with Peaches or the soldier boy.
It took a while, but evitually her friends had come around too. Joyce hadn't seemed to mind. She'd always liked Spike for some reason.
For those few years they'd been happy, but then it had happened.
Spike looked up at the sky again.
Pink now.
It was almost time.
Buffy was taken from him.
At twenty-three she'd been the oldest living slayer in history....and she was finally braught down by a driver who'd had too much to drink and shouldn't have been on the road.
It had happened at night.
Buffy had gone patrolling, and Spike had accompanied her, as he always did.
They'd been walking to her home, playfully bickering as they went.
It had happened so fast. Neither saw the car come around the corner, until it was too late.
By then the car had run up on the side walk, slaming into them.
Spike woke up after a few minutes, the car hadn't been enough to kill a vampire, only render him unconscious.
He been disoriented having taken a hard blow to the hid, and when he'd turned to see if Buffy was alright, he was met with a ghastly sight.
The Slayer was completely covered in blood. Super strength or no super strength. Healing powers or no healing powers. Buffy was not a vampire. She was a Slayer, and being run over by a car was certainly enough to kill her.
He scooped her up in his arms, all the while calling her name, trying desperately to call her back to consciousness. As he ran to the hospital, he tried to ignore the fact that he no longer heard her heart beating, no longer heard the soft sound of her breathing.
By the time he'd arrived it was too late. The Slayer, his love, was already dead.
Spike had been in shock, if that was possible for a vampire, as a policeofficer asked him questions.
He'd told him about the car, how it had run up on the sidewalk so suddenly. Of course, he didn't tell the officer that he'd been hit too. There would have been too many unanswerable questions if he had.
Spike could see the sky starting to turn yellow in the horizon.
Soon, very soon.
The police found the man the next day, but the system, as it sometimes does, didn't work.
He was released after forty-eight hours because of lack of evidence.
Buffy's family was outraged.
So was Spike, and soon as the man was let out, he tracked him down.....and drained him dry......slowly.
Now here he stood.
The sky was lighter now.
It wouldn't be long now.
He ran his hand over the marble once more, and gently brought a small box out of the coat of his leather duster, placing it on the headstone.
He'd planned to give her the ring that lay inside on her twenty-fourth birthday.
Vampires didn't generally get married, but for her he was willing to make an exception.
He stood back up. Spike could almost see the sun now, and despite everything he smiled. It had been so long since he'd last seen the sun.
He could fill the warmth on his skin.
Yes, it wouldn't be long now.
Disclaimer: I don't own BTVS
A/N: Please, please, leave a review. This is my first Buffy story, and I'm not sure why I wrote it cause it's kind of depressing, but please leave a review anyway.