Body For LizzieP and Saber Shadowkitten. Lizzie just had to come with me on my jaunt to visit the grieving Spike. Saber is one of the first B/S writers I ever read and one of the absolute bests of the subgenre. You Lady Shadowkitten are certainly one of the warrioress' going to the Writer's Valhalla. Or maybe you're a Valkyrie in disguise.

Of Love, Homage and Affection

"Come away Lizzie."

"But, but," she looked back at her friend then to the blond blood covered vampire, "look at him! We can't just leave him like this." The vampire sat amidst the rubble of the fallen building, face buried in his bloodied hands crying like the child he had not been for centuries.

"Look at all of them," her companion countered. "Look at the Key and the Watcher, the Witches, the Hyena and the Demoness. If we help him we have to help them all."

"But --"

She put one hand on Lizzie's shoulder and the other on the frozen blond head, "I know you've taken a special interest in him. I know you were setting your hopes on the Vampire and the Slayer but there's nothing we can do now, it's not our place."

"You're right it's just that . . .it breaks my heart to see him in so much pain. I feel for him."

"Me too."

The two women gazed at the frozen tableau created by their presence. Time would not resume her course until the two intruders had taken their place back in the Outerworld. Together they comforted the blond as best they could knowing he would never remember them. He would not even know they had been there. No one would. In turn they touched the faces they knew so well tapping, momentarily, into the grief that would fuel their Outerworld mission. "It shouldn't have ended this way."

Her companion agreed. "It's our job to give a different ending . . .maybe."

Lizzie ran gentle fingers over the blond vampire's features without disturbing him. She wouldn't cause him more . . .discomfort by disorienting him when time started again. Yet with wise eyes she drank the fallen sight, with insightful fingers she rubbed the soft old leather between forefinger and thumb.

"You're crying honey."

She looked up at her friend wiping her eyes. "So are you."

"Come on, we have to go. There are others who like to pay their respects to . . .the fallen."

"I don't know," Lizzie protested, "I just can't leave him like this."

"It's like what you told me when my hopes fell," she said with an involuntary glance at the Red Witch, "we aren't here to change their lives. We just write about them -- and how they should be," she finished quietly. "Come on."

The friends gave the group one last long look. None of them would remember the two women with unnaturally bright eyes, unnaturally luminous skin, unnaturally colored hair and fingers of the deftest magick. No they would not remember these Outerworld women with their fairy-like gifts who had come to pay homage to grief especially that of the dead for the dead.

With one last kiss on the blondes' heads they were gone in a flash of faerie light.

§§§

"Get away from her Spike!"

"No, Xander, leave him alone," Giles said in a quiet voice. "It's quite all right. Quite all right," he finished making his way, like Dawn, to the fallen Slayer and the self appointed guardian of her body. He'd never seen a vampire cry before. Some part of his brain was busily taking notes. Another, smaller, part knew this was just another form of grief. It wondered when he would go searching out a fine bottle of brandy as an evolution that grief. Don't know, he answered himself.

Tentatively Dawn placed her hand on Spike's shoulder. Snarling through the tears he pushed her away. Undaunted she tried again. He didn't stop her from touching him, from touching him, from holding him, from holding onto him as she broke down too. Because she didn't really want to touch him -- she needed him -- she wanted to touch . . .to touch . . .to touch

And the thoughts wouldn't come because love and affection don't allow for such gross (GROSS!!!) self sacrifice. Not for me, not for me. I'm not even real so it's not for me. No the mind just couldn't handle (deal with) hold (comprehend) such (disgusting) noble . . .noble . . .acts? So she cried with those that cried with her for the things she couldn't name and couldn't understand and couldn't name and couldn't understand and couldn't name and couldn't and couldn't and couldn't and couldn't . . .

Giles drew the sobbing shuddering girl from blind vampire. He held onto her before she was drawn into the community of women before this last remnant of his daughter could be taken away too. Over Dawn's head he gazed at his children (all his children). Xander in his stunned angry formless(amorphous shapeless directionless . . .) grief; Willow with her unfelt tears comforted by a newly cogent Tara; Anya with her childlike wonder of death with all it's unspoken complications especially that of tragedy in pairs; Dawn and the simple pain of loss, unending guilt steeped loss and Spike. Spike his most unlikely son. Spike who'd almost married his favorite daughter. Spike who'd nearly killed all his children. Spike clinging to a body that would give him no answers that held no promises that had no hope that was purer than anything he had(would) ever known(know) that would have to be relinquished that he would gladly die and die and die again for -- even for the blood of her blood and the bone of her bone.

Dawn pulled away from his hold and went over to the grieving vampire. A fear had seized her in Giles' arms a fear realized in Spikes eyes. "Don't go." He didn't respond, only rocked her . . .the . . .only rocked it like a child. Putting her small hands on his cheeks she forced his icy blind eyes to his. "Don't go."

"Go where, kid?" he rasped.

"I see it in your eyes. You're going to go like . . .like . . .like everyone else. I can't lose anyone else."

He didn't know why allowed himself to be maneuvered by this small thing. "Have to kid," maybe it was because he didn't have the strength to fight such matters anymore. "There's no more reason to stay."

"She wouldn't want you to go."

"Yes," he said looking at the love he held in his arms. Death holding death. "Yes, she would have."

"Not really. She wouldn't want you to leave me alone. Don't leave me alone, Spike." Tears made river deltas of her face.

Their foreheads nearly touched. "You're not alone pet. You've got the Watcher and Red and the lot." He turned to death in arms. "There's no reason to stay."

"But . . .but your the only one who knows me. And I'm the only one who knows you," she added in a rushed whisper desperately turning his face back to hers. "She told you to protect me. She wanted you to protect me." Seeing nothing in his blue eyes she released the blond and bloodied vampire. "Why does everyone leave? Why do they all leave me alone?"

Dawn turned from the anguished vampire into Willow's waiting arms. "How am I supposed to . . .to go one when . . .when everyone leaves," she sobbed loud enough for all to hear and wonder for themselves. (Ms. Calender, Jesse, Joyce, Amy)

"I'll stay."

She pushed away from the redhead. "What?"

"Said I'll stay," Spike repeated with quiet pain. "You're right, she told me to protect you and I will. It's not as if I belong in heaven anyway, right Slayer," he said softly to quickly cooling flesh cradled in his arms. He kissed the forehead he'd loved without trying. " 'Sides, she's your blood, right? I finally get to do right by you pet -- Buffy." And the tears ran anew.

§§§

Saber looked at the couple locked in death's tenderest embrace. With tears streaming down her face she said, "It's just how I imagined it . . .once or twice," before disappearing into faerie light.