A/N(s): (1) I sat down to type, and this is what came out. Hope you enjoy... (2) The original lyrics to the song sung by one of the characters in the fic can be found at buffyworld . com. I only own what I changed. (3) Setting: Post Chosen. The story was written before season 5 aired so forget what happened in Angel. (4) Turns out, I'm one of those writers that is never satisfied with their own writing. So, I rewrote my story, hopefully you like the changes.

The cruel, cold and open crater-sized hole that was once Sunnydale is now a place of comfort for the slayer. A hundred or so feet deep, no telling how wide, the hole held nothing but dirt, rocks and nothing of the world she once knew.

'How big is the Grand Canyon?' thought Buffy as she made her way down.

Once at the bottom, she walked aimlessly for a few minutes. Kicking the odd rock or two with her new black heeled boots, she took in a breath of the cool night air. Her skin prickled as she felt the familiar presence. And then the silence broke.

"I's a hell of a lot bigger and deeper than this, luv. I'll be sure to show it t'you--rocks everywhere and anywhere you look, like this, yeah? But the rocks there have colors you wouldn't believe."

"You're here," Buffy said, not as a question but as a statement of fact. She didn't turn to face her visitor; instead, she kicked another rock.

"Always here."

Exhaling at the sound of the harsh whisper that was all too real for her, she turned around to look at the man who never failed to make her feel--anything. Something.

He stood several feet away from her, but Buffy never felt him so close or so far away.

"Hmm... Here, in my heart, right?" she asked, as she recalled the words he always seemed to say when he came to her. It was difficult to make out his features. But even when wrapped in shadow, she knew he was there all the same.

The full moon and the stars gave her just enough light to make out his form. In her mind, she would see the rest: the tilt of his head, his eyes cast down, lids lowered, but not so much as to hide the incredible blue of his irises, the crinkle at the corner of his eye and the smile he only reserved for her--the smile she knew was there as he made a start to reply. The hesitation that followed lasted no more than a defining moment and would hold so much more meaning than the next few words he would utter.

She pulled her black leather coat tighter around herself and shifted her weight to lean on one foot. She wasn't cold, but it was all she could do to keep from running to him. She crunched a pebble and scrutinized over the new scuff mark across the top of her boot. She looked up at the sound of his voice that finally came.

"Got it in one, pet, I always knew you were smart."

She smiled, letting a soft chuckle escape. This was them. She allowed herself to meet his eyes.

He took a step forward and she reacted by taking a step back. He didn't move any further.

She could not and would not allow him to get closer, or worse: making any move to get closer to him. She was afraid that if she got near to him she'll want to touch him. Buffy did not want to know what would happen if they were to touch. If her hand passes right through, she would be able to handle it because that would be expected. But if her hand meets solid flesh and bone covered with black cotton fabric and leather, what then?

"So much has happened here," she said, turning and breaking eye contact. "I wonder... If someone happens to see this, this hole, do you think they would know what was--do you think they would know what happened here? Do you think that it'll be in history books or something? You think there'll be some kind of sign that would read 'This endless, ended hole is more than an ominous and terribly beautiful view. It is...'" She turned to look at him again as her words trailed off into the distance. "I wouldn't want that. To read it. To see it recorded, I mean. They wouldn't get it right. Nobody would get it right."

He saw the hint of sadness in her eyes when she looked at him. He understood what she meant. Shrugging, needing her to be okay, he took a breath and looked at her. "Yeah, they'd want to write 'bout it. The town that was here. The people and the demons alike that lived in it. Who knows what they'll write. Ones that got out of this... hell. They'd likely do what they did when they lived their sorry lives here. Deny. Ignore. Forget. Hide."

He leaned back against the rocky wall behind him, crossed his arms over his chest, lifted a Doc clad foot behind him for support and contemplated the possibilities. "Suppose that someone happened to guess, like those writers in those gossip and such magazines. Suppose they make up some story, where a band of merry friends and warriors came together and fought and defeated something so great that it took the whole fucking town with it. And to think, they would have it right for once."

"I could see it now, in big, bold, red lettering, 'Vampire defeats evil! His weapon: his soul. He sacrifices his undead self to save the living.'" Grinning, she added: "Oh, 'and Christmas too.'"

"Don't forget 'bout the puppies."

"No, can't forget about the puppies." She paused and looked at the sky for a moment. "They might even make a movie."

"Or a show on the telly."

"Yeah, it could be all horror-y with those fake looking fight scenes that everybody loves so much."

He chuckled at the thought. Sometime while they were talking, his foot had dropped down to the floor and his hands had found their way into his pockets. Still grinning, he tilted his head to look at her smile. It somehow made him sad.

Buffy had started to place one foot in front of the other. When she got close enough to touch him, she stopped, looked away for a second and then drew her eyes to focus on his before she moved to take a seat by his side. She took in a long draw of fresh crisp air, exhaled slowly, and leaned against the cool rock surface. "The others: Dawn, Willow, Xander, Giles... they're waiting for me in L.A.. They want to travel. They think it'll be good for me. It'll help me forget. It will give me time to rest for a bit."

He nodded and waited for her to continue. Minutes, or it could have been hours that ticked by, were consumed by silence and nothing else.

"Sun'll be up soon," he said, interrupting the deafening, but welcomed silence.

"Yeah."

More silence.

"So what did it feel like? The sun?"

"The sun?" He thought about it. He really didn't know if he could find the words to describe it. Letting out a sigh, he started talking as he searched for words for such a feeling. "It didn't feel like anything. But everything all at once. It felt like I was whole again, but incomplete because it was as if I was already gone."

"Where did you go?"

He looked at her, waited a moment, and told her the only truth he could. "I never left you Buffy. You know that."

She asks every time he visits. He never tells her. She knows why, and it kills her to know. This night he gives her the same answer. And she lets him.

"Let's dance for a bit luv, just till the sun comes up," he said, offering his hand.

She looked at his open palm as if it was something foreign to her. She looked back into his eyes and then back at his hand. She took a breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she was face to face with her once lover. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and he was smiling at her. His eyes twinkled with life. She pulled him closer and rested her cheek against his shoulder, breathing him in.

He started to sing softly in her ear. It was a song she heard before, but sung differently, like a smooth quiet lullaby.

"I died. So many years ago and you still can make me feel like it isn't so. But why you come to be with me? You miss me..." He dropped his voice and whispered in her ear, "this, I know."

She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked up at him, meeting his gaze as he moved them in a languid circle.

"But you see, I'm resting... in peace."

He changed the words. The very thought of what he said seemed impossible. But he was always honest with her. She believed him. And she was happy that he was able to say it. He deserved peace. But she hated him for it because she didn't have it. 'He's at rest,' her mind raced. And her heart ached because it told her the real reason why she felt hate.

He continued telling her what he needed to say. The words were no longer carried in song. They were wrapped in a velvet whisper that was so soft that the harsh cries of the wind drowned them out.

Nevertheless, Buffy heard him. She heard it all. Clearly. And perfectly.

"Luv? That's because of you. I found my... sweet release? Because... because I love you too." He had told her.

"Too?"

He knew he didn't need to say it again to confirm it. She knew what he meant. That he believed her when she told him that she loved him the last day of Sunnydale.

As the sun's first rays began to inch its way out, draping the sky with a barrage of colors, Buffy pulled away to look into his eyes knowing that he would be leaving soon.

He did the same, but for an entirely different reason. He was taken aback. And it wasn't the tears that surprised him. It was the emptiness that he saw. It was always the emptiness.

"This is the part where you tell me 'don't,' right?"

"Yes pet." He lifted his hand behind his neck to take hold of her hands that were wrapped around him, and brought them to their front. He kept his eyes locked onto hers. "Don't do what you came here to do, luv. This isn't how it's supposed to be." He kissed the fading slash marks on her wrists.

She let him kiss her self inflicted wounds. But when she saw his tears that started to form, she let his words finally sink in. "Supposed to be?" Buffy repeated in question. She let out a choked laugh. "Supposed to be, Spike? Damn you! Damn you! Fuck." She yelled, pounding on his chest to enforce her point.

To him, the pain was nothing compared to the desperate cries she was making and the tears that leaked and fell from her cheeks.

When she stopped hitting, tired from the emotions that tore through, she looked at him. "I'll tell you what wasn't supposed to be--No. I'll tell you what is supposed to be. Us, Spike, us. We were supposed to be. Weren't we?" Her last words were only a whisper and broken by the stifles of her cries. But it was those words that were the most clear to him.

"Maybe Buffy, maybe so." He wrapped his arms around her again and cradled her head with one of his hands. "But that'll just have to wait luv, before that happens you have to do this for me."

"But--"

"No buts Buffy. You have to do this for me first. Promise me Buffy. Promise me."

She doesn't say what he needs to hear yet because she knows that when she says it, her time with him will be over.

"Luv, Buffy, look at me. I'm not going anywhere because--because bloody hell, Buffy, I'm not going anywhere. Not when I've heard those three sweet words from your even sweeter lips. You had me Buffy, you got me. And I promise you, I swear it, I'm here with you, and I'm never going to leave. With me, Buffy, it's still all about you, and I plan on keepin' it that way. Now, promise me." He saw--heard her silent tears and waited for her to respond.

"I promise, Spike. I promise." She heard herself say, she searched his eyes knowing that it was time.

"That's my girl. My beautiful slayer." He threaded his fingers through her hair. "You'll see. After a sweet lifetime, we'll be resting together. But for now, we'll just have to teach the world and beyond all else how to dream, yeah?"

The end.