CLOSURE
Rating - K+
Disclaimers - Joss' toys, my playground.
Notes - This story was something I had to write. Joss had too many loose ends and not enough happy endings.
Spoilers - This story starts at the end of Season 7, after Chosen. Everything is as it was then with the following exception; Angel Investigations has not yet moved from the Hyperion to Wolfram and Hart headquarters, despite now running the firm.
DAY 1
Feeling empty inside, Buffy rode towards Los Angeles in the back seat of the battered bus. Thanks to her Slayer healing powers, her cuts and bruises were already nearly gone. There was also something uniquely comforting in seeeing those same healing powers take effect within the novice Slayers. Still, although she now shared her legacy, the events of the last 24 hours had left her emotionally numb and very, very alone.
Lovingly the others had tried to draw her out. Even Xander, who was dealing with his own loss, cast her worried glances and half-hearted "you wanna share?" gestures. But it hadn't taken long for the other's attempts to fail. They had abandoned further communication more than an hour ago, contenting themselves that she just needed some "alone time" to gather her thoughts and, by the time they all got to the Hyperion, she'd come around.
There were suppressed gasps from several of the six remaining Potentials, a weak "Damn Rupert" from Wood, echoed rather more loudly by Faith, and a brief mumbled British apology from the driver's seat as the bus hit an unexpected pothole. Buffy found herself comforted, if not cheered by the familiar voices, spoken without hesitation and unhushed. She shook her head, amused to find herself feeling that gratitude, feeling anything.
With familiar feelings came a raging thirst. She reached into the brown leather bag beside her, the pack of slayer weapons that, together with the chest Xander had made for her, had been rescued from the Summers' home that was...used to be on Revello Drive. Buffy felt a brief nostalgia for her mother's house, but it hadn't really been home for two years. Without her mother it had become lodgings, shared first with her friends, then the slayers in training, the witches, watchers, ex-henchmen and…and... At the sudden, unprompted reminder of his loss, Buffy dropped the water bottle she had retrieved from inside her kit. She lunged to catch it managing only to knock the whole bag to a noisy and inevitable conclusion. All eyes turned to her but, satisfied with the source of the din identified, the others turned away again, respecting the boundaries already established.
Buffy slipped down between the green leather seats retrieving the familiar tools of her trade; stakes, holy water, knives, axes, which had scattered on the bus floor. She had collected only a handful of items and started to upright the bag when a square of paper fluttered to the floor. With a grunt of exasperation, she set the bag on the seat and threw in what she had managed to collect. Reaching back down for the wayward paper, she recognized it immediately as an envelope from Dawn's stationary; a gaudy floral pattern that Buffy had chosen to give her little sister for her last birthday, an attempt to recognize her sister's maturity by replacing "Hello Kitty". She picked up the packet and caught Dawn's eye. With a questioning expression Buffy held up the envelope for her little sister to see. The teenager simply raised her eyebrows and shrugged. It wasn't from her.
Turning it over she found it was addressed in an unfamiliar hand. Strong, symmetrical strokes spelled simply "Buffy" and a small flourish below, a sideways "S" with a couple of lines angled through it, set off her name. A feeling of anticipation washed over her. She knew without having seen it before, that this was his handwriting. She began to tremble, clutching the envelope to her chest, her breathing becoming ragged as a flood of memories from yesterday began to overwhelm her. Spike in her basement, waiting patiently for her as always. Spike in her arms, the feeling of his embrace, the comfort of his familiar scent. That damned leather duster. His flaming hand in her own before he begged her to let him finish it. At that last image a tear fell from her eye, its fall startling her back to the present. She looked again at the envelope and ran her fingers over the ink, taking a moment to realize that this was one of the last things he had done. "He must have written it last night after we…after I fell asleep," she thought. She flushed at the memory and brushed aside tears that had slipped down her trembling, she slid her finger under the flap, taking special care not to tear it, as though tearing it would somehow define his absence and make it more real. She unfolded the letter and quickly scanned the page. The penmanship was that of an educated man, the lettering carefully drawn by a tutored hand. She drew her eyes back to the top of the page, which began…
Dear Buffy,
Good. You are reading this. And if you're reading it, know that wherever I am, I am now at ease, for it means that the battle is over, we won and that you are safe. Sure, it also means that I'm not there with you to enjoy the victory, but I think we all knew that this time it was going to be me. Well, anyway, I knew. So I intend to do my best. I hope I made you proud, and that I finally died with dignity.
From where I'm standing as I write this, I can see you sleeping. God, you're beautiful. Your hair is spread out on the pillow like liquid gold. It's all I can do to not crawl back in next to you, to wrap my arms around you, to hold you and to beg the day not to begin. But tomorrow is our final battle, a battle which will come no matter what we do. I am not frightened, but I am restless. I have a million thoughts. There are things I want to say to you but I can't burden you with tonight. You have enough on your mind. Still, there are certain things I want you to know. First, as always, I love you. Yes, I know, I've said it before, but it is a startling truth considering who and what we are, and worth saying again. I. Love. You.
Second, I know you don't love me. I know you have love in you Buffy; I see it, always have. I saw it when you kissed An… him the other night. A long-lost sparkle came back to your eye, a joy, an abandon that I have longed for you to share with me. We've been enemies, allies, comrades, confidantes, friends, lovers. I have seen your anger, your fear, your frustration and your desire…but I never saw that glimmer in your eye for me. My poet's heart ached for you to, to feel what I feel, but I knew it wasn't possible. My past is too sordid and your Slayer's heart too wounded.
But tonight was different. Tonight, Buffy, I felt that you and I were equal at last. It was more amazing than I had ever dreamed. Even though you don't love me, you came to me tonight not out of pity or carnal desire. Not to forget or to hide. Instead you sought comfort and friendship, tenderness, respect and understanding. To have finally been able to share those things with you, if only briefly, was incredible. Buffy, we have shared so much more than most people ever have. Even love itself can't guarantee that. I will carry the memory of tonight with me until the end of time.
Do not grieve, love. I've circled the dance floor and the band is about to stop. All the verses, the refrains have been sung. I am ready. I am at peace with myself although I feel that you and I held such unfulfilled promise. I wish we'd had more time…
The last five years have been an amazing journey for me; from demon to a souled man once again. I wouldn't have, couldn't have, shared it with anyone else. No one else would have understood or cared. So now, one more thing, love; thank you. Thank you for caring, for fighting for me and with me, for inspiring me to reach for the best of myself and for treating me like the man I found I wanted to be all along. Each battle, every conversation, and experience, all of it has made me into who I am. Because of you and what we've had, I can face tomorrow's battle and it's inevitable end. I know that sometimes death is just the beginning of a new adventure. You and I are both testament to that, love. I want you to know that if, after tomorrow's battle is over, I find myself wherever it is that we finally account for our past, I have hope. Hope that when the evils of my past are set on one side of the scales tipping them toward the damnation I deserve, the weight might be balanced, and may even lean my way a little, because you once cared for me.
So, here we are at the end. I once told you that one of us had to go on living. It's still you. Live, Buffy. Find peace, someone to love, someone to care for, who cares for you and who makes you sparkle. Live, love, for both of us.
Spike ~ William
The sob that shook Buffy as she finished reading echoed through the bus. She crumpled the letter in her hands, trying desperately to crush it into oblivion. Even as her tears continued to fall, she could feel the anger mounting in her. "Damn him!" she shouted at the twisted ball of paper, "God damn him!" she yelled, as she flung the paper across the bus. "How dare he write such a letter? How dare he leave with such a load of…? How dare he leave me…." She choked on her words, and covered her face with her hands, overcome.
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Sharon laughed as she ran through the park. She felt stronger than ever, her speed top notch, her reflexes better. What had started out as a quick jog, however, tonight had looked as though it was going to get ugly. As she had turned a corner along the darkening pathway, she had encountered the largest, fiercest dog she had ever seen. Its withers were hunched, mottled auburn hair on end and razor sharp, yellow teeth bared.
Her heart had leapt to her mouth before she remembered her recent endowments. She turned off the path and broke away. She heard the dog growl menacingly behind her and begin to take chase, but she had outdistanced it and it was no longer behind her. She let up on her speed a little and laughed again, exhilarated. Life was good. She took one last look over her shoulder and ran smack into the tallest man she had ever seen. She bounced back and landed on her butt on the asphalt. "Oof, jeez man, sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."
The man didn't say anything, just looked down at her. He was GQ handsome from what Sharon could tell from her below-normal vantage point, but he wore a smile that made her skin crawl. "Well, sorry again," she began as she stood, brushing off her rear. The man let out a low whistle. Sharon looked at him her gut instinct now telling her to flee. She turned to run again but her first step never hit the ground. The huge dog had circled around and now lunged onto her back, its fangs sinking silently into the veins and arteries within her throat, taking her down like prey. There was no time for thought, much less a scream.
The dog did not release his grip as she fell, but rolled to the ground with his kill, savoring the blood that now gushed into his mouth. The man stepped forward. "Rouj," he commanded and seeming to read his master's mind, the dog stepped back, relinquishing his prize to his master. The man took a vial from his pocket and collected a specimen of blood dripping from the girl's throat. He then took out a knife and, leaning over his victim's head, collected a hank of hair. After a moment he hefted the dead body further back into the bushes out of sight. "She's all yours, Ovchi," the man told the dog and he walked away, leaving the animal to steal into the bushes to impatiently devour the softest body parts.
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"Buffy, what's the matter?" Willow asked as she sat in the seat in front of her best friend. Willow looked around; the others were still glancing back at Buffy awkwardly, concerned at her outburst, but afraid to venture too near the obviously distressed Slayer. It was up to her. She tried again, "Buffy?" Reaching out, the young witch touched her friend's shoulder in sympathy. "What is it? Can I do something to help?" Buffy shook her head, but continued to cry silently. Willow moved into the seat next to Buffy, placing the Slayer bag on the floor and taking her best friend into her arms. Willow might not know why yet, but Buffy was definitely grieving and needed comforting. "It's okay, Buffy. It'll be okay." Willow murmured a litany of soothing words that continued until Buffy's sobs had subsided and she finally fell asleep, exhausted, her head resting in Willow's lap.
As Buffy slept, Xander crept to the back of the bus, seating himself in front of the two women. Speaking softly he asked, "So? What happened?"
Willow shook her head and shrugged. Faith stepped up just then, "It probably had something to do with this," and she began opening the crumpled letter she'd ducked when Buffy flung it across the bus.
"We shouldn't read that, it's her private mail," Willow objected.
"But we need to know what it is so we can help her," Xander interjected, reaching for the letter.
"It's from Spike," Faith said matter-of-factly, opening it and glancing down to the signature at the bottom of the letter. Quickly she pulled the document out of Xander's reach.
"Spike?" Willow and Xander repeated, surprised.
"Sure. You two knew about them, right?"
"Well, yeah, sort of. I guess…not," Xander replied. "I mean they were together last year for a blessedly short while, but that was all over, wasn't it? I mean, he came back from wherever he was all wonky and she fussed over that for a while, but that was all. Right?" He looked to Willow for confirmation.
Willow nodded although she wondered. She didn't want to send Xander over the edge where the subject of Spike and Buffy usually sent him, but she suspected that Buffy had felt more deeply for Spike than any of them actually knew. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look that the time Buffy had spent away from the group had not been spent entirely alone. With wide eyes Willow turned to Faith, "I think we should put that away for her. She may find she didn't want to get rid of it after all."
"Sure," Faith responded. Nodding she folded the paper as neatly as possible, tucking it into Buffy's bag. Faith looked into Willow's eyes and held her gaze. There was some understanding there. The dark-haired slayer knew there had been more between Buffy and Spike as well. She had come between them albeit briefly and had felt the undeniable power of their connection. "Well, I'm no good with this emotional stuff…" hesitating a moment, she added softly, "…yet." Willow smiled at the other Chosen One, she was really trying to care at last, to do what was right, and it was sweet in a "which universe is this" kind of way. "Well, I'm outta here," Faith mumbled as she turned away.
"Thanks," the witch answered and, with an awkward shrug, Faith walked back to the front of the bus where Robin sat, still nursing his wounds.
Xander sat looking mutely at Willow. "You didn't answer me, Wils. That thing with Spike and Buffy was all over with, right?"
"Yes, Xander," Willow answered solemnly, "that thing was all over. I think they were dealing with something entirely new to both of them."
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Angel opened his eyes slowly. He thought that opening his eyes hurt, but when he tried to move he felt true gut wrenching agony. He rolled over onto his back and looked up into the starry night congratulating himself for managing the feat by taking a moment to watch the trees sway overhead. After a minute he managed to sit up and look around. He knew this place. It was one of the more familiar L.A. city parks through which he patrolled regularly. His head hurt and he held it in his hands for a minute trying to remember how he had gotten here.
Running. That was it, he had been running to…no, from, something…no, someone. He had thought he'd heard, or rather, sensed something in the park. He had been very conscientious about following up on his hunches lately, what with the problems in Sunnydale. He was well aware that he was, as Buffy had put it, in charge of the second front. There were rumblings in the underground grapevine that something catastrophic had happened and rumors about girls becoming slayers, about volcanoes, bolts of lightning…you could hear just about anything from demons. The news media had covered what they had called 'the sinkhole that swallowed Sunnydale' but somewhere inside Angel he knew that she'd survived and he'd hear from Buffy soon. So he was trying not to think about the hole in the ground, trying to hold his 'line' and keep busy.
So, there he was patrolling, and he had run into it…him. The hulking man had stood a good 6" taller than Angel, and outweighed him by at least 50 lbs. His arms had a longer reach and, even with his vampiric strength, Angel was physically outmatched from the beginning. To make matters worse, a huge dog accompanied the giant and, before he knew it, they had both attacked Angel.
As he thought back to before the fight he remembered being asked to hand something over. The hulking stranger had been after something he thought Angel had. Ultimately the man had called off his dog with a firm command, releasing Angel and saying "Get it for me vampire, or next time you will not be walking away. You have two days. I'll be in touch." Angel shook his head to clear his mind and gather his thoughts, but, however hard he tried, he simply could not remember what the man had been asking for.
Slowly Angel stood up and found his balance. He brushed away a trickle of blood from his lip and staggered painfully home.