Disclaimer: I dont own anything with Buffy. They all belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The title 'This Is My Letter To The World' is the title to an Emily Dickinson Poem (Please when reading the poem, read it and try to understand it the way it can go w/ the fiction, not really the way Ms.Dickinson meant it to be... yes I know that sounds stupid, but bare with me). The poem 'Acceptance' is by Robert Frost. All quotes belong to the movie or song or whoever/whatever they're tagged with. I only own the characters Cora and Angita.
Summary: After Buffy's death Spike feels responsible for not being able to save her. While the Scooby gang find a way to get Buffy back, Spike tries to deal with his guilt. Will the gang be in time to save Spike from the unthinkable?
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: I will go through everything in "The Gift"
Distribution: I dont see why not, but please tell me first-- FlpDivA126@aol.com
Author's Note: This picks up RIGHT where the finale left off. The words that are in astrics (ex: *blah*) are said emphatically... or... you get the point. Thoughts are in double astrics (ex: **blah blah**). Oh and I really crave feedback! Please please do review and email if you want! =o)
Special Thankies: To my GREAT spankadelic beta readers-- Amy and Adrianna!! =o) Thanks to you guys for the outstanding feedback, and suggestions to make this story better! Adrianna, thanks sooo soo much for helping me find songs and stuff! Thank you 80! Thank you fellow begger! =o)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.
~~ William Shakespeare
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ring Ring
The phone rang loudly just as they began to walk in. Everyone was so happy to be back home. He answered it with a smile on his face, but didn't know of the tragedy in the news to come. "Angel Investigations, how can I help you?"
"Angel..." A soft, sad whisper came from the other end.
"Willow? What's wrong?" The smile faded. He knew what was wrong... or at least what the 'wrong' was about.
"Buffy... Buffy's dead..." Angel could barely hear her words, but after she said it, he wished he hadn't. He was silent for a few minutes, trying to take in what he was just told. "Angel? Are you still there?"
Silence.
"Angel?" This time Willow's voice was audible, but sounded almost as if she were going to cry.
"Y-yeah... I'm here. How? Who?" He stumbled onto his words, completely denying the reality in his mind.
"Well... can I tell you later? Right now I need you over here... *we* need you over here. The gang and I, I mean. I-I have an idea to bring Buffy back... but I'm going to need your help." Willow tried to sound strong, she tried to sound brave... but Angel knew better.
"I-I'll be there... what do you need?"
"Bring all the books on resurrections you can find... and come quick."
"Okay... bye." With that he hung up the phone, slowly, and still in denial. He sat down for a second and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. **This can't be happening... this can't be happening...* Four words pounding in his mind. Suddenly all the memories he had of her rushed over him. They hit him so intensely it was hard to swallow, and his stomach churned. Flashes and flashes of all the good times came, then slowed down to a complete hault and froze on the memory of the last time they saw each other. Their last kiss. He could remember exactly how she smelled, how she tasted... but now... now all that was gone. **I'm getting her back.**
He pounded his fist into his desk causing it to cave in. He rushed out of the room and strided into the lobby. Apparently Cordy, Gunn, and Wesley heard the loud punch and watched with confused expressions as he started up the stairs. He was mumbling to himself, and they could only make out the words "can't" "books" and the phrase "gotta go".
"Angel?" Wesley asked, confusion and concern in his voice. Unexpectedly Angel whipped around and stared at Wesley with sad eyes.
"Wesley I want you and Cordelia to find every resurrection book we have. Gunn, get me some weapons... guns, swords, axes... anything." **Whoever killed her will go through excruciating pain** The sadness indicated in his eyes turned to fury as he stormed up the flight of steps. "And I want them by an hour!" His distant voice yelled out.
The trio stood there for a moment, looking at each other, confusion written all over their faces.
"I thought he'd be happy to be back home..." Cordy said breaking the silence. They shrugged and went their seperate ways-- finding what needed to be found, and retrieving them for their less than happy boss.
Wesley quietly entered Angel's room to find him packing clothes into a suitcase. "Angel? Is everything alright?" Angel only gave him a sideglance, and continued on with his packing. He took out another bag and furiously shoved 10 stakes, his axe, and 2 tranquelizer guns in. Wesley watched in confusion at the scene before him.
"Has Gunn gotten back with the weapons yet?" He never looked up, just kept packing.
"No... I dont believe so." Wesley talked slowly as he watched Angel scurry around the room to find things.
"Did you find any books?" Again, he didn't look up.
"Well, we've only found 2 so far... but Cordy's looking for more. There's this one book here though that I'm not too sure of." He inched closer to Angel holding the book. Angel took it and began flipping through the pages. "Angel what's wrong? What's going on?"
Silence.
"This is good, find more like this one." He shoved the book back to Wesley, and turned around to his suitcase. To his surprise Wesley grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around.
"Angel, I really dont mind searching for these books, but can you tell me what's happening? Why are we looking for books and weapons? And why are you packing all your clothes?" Concern glinted off his eyes as he held a firm grip on Angel's shoulder.
Angel let out a long sigh and sat down on his bed. His head hung low as he rubbed his palms together, ready to pass on the awful news. "Buffy... Buffy's dead." He choked out.
"Oh my..." Wesley took a seat next to him.
"Willow called and told me. I'm going over there for her resurrection... and I might be staying there for a while. If things dont work out I might stay for a long while... help out. She never told me about Dawn's condition, so I might stay there to take care of her too." Wesley could hear the grief in his voice.
"I see... Would you like the rest of us to come with you?"
"No, just get me what I asked and I'll be fine." Wesley nodded and got up for the door. Before reaching for the doorknob he slightly shifted around.
"I'm sorry Angel. We all loved her dearly... and we all know how much she meant to you." He shifted again and was midway out the door before Angel stopped him.
"Thanks Wes. C-could you not tell Cordy until after I leave?" He stayed planted on the bed, and his head still hung low.
"Yes, of coarse. I'll call Gunn and tell him to quicken his pace. We'll have everything done by the hour." He left and closed the door behind him. Angel sat in silence and began to weep uncontrolably. All the memories flashing through his mind once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is no greater sorrow than to recall, in misery, the time when we were happy.
~~ Dante
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before they left for the shop they thought it best to move Buffy's body. As much as they hated to say it, she wasn't the greatest smelling thing in the world now that she was dead. Dawn gathered some vanilla inscents that Willow got for her one Christmas and began to light them around Buffy's old room. Willow, Giles, and Tara worked on moving her body in. They layed her in her bed and pulled the cover over her... as if she were still alive. They fluffed her pillow under her head, and tucked her in like a small child. The aroma of the inscents filled the room and they silently exited, Dawn being the last one. Before closing the door behind her, she peeked her head inside and in a soft whisper she spoke to her sister, "We'll get you back... I promise. Sleep tight Buffy..." A single tear sped down her cheek as she quietly closed the door, careful not to make a sound.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Soon? What do you mean *soon*?" Buffy's eyes grew dreadful as she watched the female being fade away. Her only response was the word 'soon' echoing off the walls. "WHY THE HELL DO YOU WANT TO MESS WITH EVERYONE I LOVE? WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO SCREW UP THEIR LIVES?" She yelled out into air. Frustration, worry, and fear built up inside of her and it all soon poured out of her mouth in the form of a scream. It was a gut-wrenching, ear-piercing howl. After what seemed like an eternity, her throat grew sore and no more sound could manage to come out of her mouth. Her throat itched with pain and the only thing she could do was watch the life she was missing out on. She sat back against the wooden chair and clutched her throat gently. She watched with blurred eyes the arguement between sides, Spike's determined exit, and the moving of her body. She watched closely as Dawn spoke silently to her... promising to have her back, and wishing her a nice rest. The scene was heartbreaking and Buffy immediately broke into hot tears. She shifted her eyes to Xander and Anya.
Anya looked so peaceful, so tranquil. No one would ever have guessed most of her past life was devoted to revenge. Xander stayed by her unconscious state for hours, awaiting news of her recovery... and of plans to have Buffy back. He kept glancing at the clock on the bedside table... just waiting. He let out a sigh as he read the time- 9:52 AM.
He was a total wreck. His hair was disheveled, skin pale, eyes puffy, and his hands sat shaky on Anya's. Moments later his hands slipped inside his pockets and in his left hand he took out a small velvet blue box. He gazed at it intently, and slowly opened it. Buffy watched as he took out an engagement ring and fiddled with it in his hands. Tears welled up in her eyes once more as he slowly glided the ring onto her finger, then gently kissed her hand. He leaned in slightly, close to her ear, and whispered, "You know the funny thing is... if anyone were to have died or get seriously hurt last night, I thought it would've been me." He paused and tilted his head down a little, "But instead... you got hurt. And Buffy died. Oh God Ahn... I wish *I* could be in both your and Buffy's place... God how I wish so much. Things were supposed to turn out perfect. We'd beat that self-absorbed bitch on wheels from Hell, and then after we'd have a big wedding." He paused again, smiling to himself sadly and went on in a more huskier tone. "The one you'd always dream of-- lots of flowers, big white church, all our friends.... Buffy would've been our Maid Of Honor." A single tear trailed to his lips, and he slowly kissed her on the cheek. "Please Anya.... please come back to me." He dug his head between her shoulder and neck and silently sobbed.
Buffy's heart sank. She balled herself up in a fetal position, bringing her knees close to her and wrapping her arms tightly around them, as she shed rueful tears.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
His heart was in agonizing pain. It was as if someone gauged it out with a wooden spoon covered with splinters and let it bake in the sun. He drove fast, speeding past all who happened to be there with hard music blasting through his speakers. The funny thing was though, he never heard the music... all he heard were the accusations screaming in his head. **Where to go? Where to go?** he asked himself in his head as he drove aimlessly into the heart of the desert... the middle of nowhere. To his surprise he found himself sitting in his DeSoto staring at a cozy shack-like house. The Craftsman Bungalow looked to be a model between early 1900's to maybe late 1920's. The small porch was held up with square columns and had an unusual amount of hanging plants dangling from various hooks. Each of them gave off their own fragrance, leaving the mixture intoxicating. The thatched roof hung over the compact home with wide eaves and decorative brackets. Because the roof was so large a capula sat on the left side, letting the sunshine glimmer off the glass windows. It was surprising to see that this house still stood in the middle of the desert. He knew the land was dry, but as he got out of his car he looked closer to the sides of the house. Spike gave a barely-there smile as he noticed ivy growing up the bungalow siding. He walked up the creaky stairs of the porch and was suddenly engulfed with large vines. Like snakes, they wrapped themselves around his body. When he tried to yell for help a vine wrapped itself around his mouth, and it covered his whole self tightly. He shut his eyes tight, trying not to accept his defeat. **Damn, I can't fail again...* In mere seconds a stake was held to his heart by a petite brunette. "William The Bloody... to what do I owe this visit?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Those who are prepared to die for any cause are seldom defeated."
~~Jawaharlal Nehru
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summary: After Buffy's death Spike feels responsible for not being able to save her. While the Scooby gang find a way to get Buffy back, Spike tries to deal with his guilt. Will the gang be in time to save Spike from the unthinkable?
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: I will go through everything in "The Gift"
Distribution: I dont see why not, but please tell me first-- FlpDivA126@aol.com
Author's Note: This picks up RIGHT where the finale left off. The words that are in astrics (ex: *blah*) are said emphatically... or... you get the point. Thoughts are in double astrics (ex: **blah blah**). Oh and I really crave feedback! Please please do review and email if you want! =o)
Special Thankies: To my GREAT spankadelic beta readers-- Amy and Adrianna!! =o) Thanks to you guys for the outstanding feedback, and suggestions to make this story better! Adrianna, thanks sooo soo much for helping me find songs and stuff! Thank you 80! Thank you fellow begger! =o)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.
~~ William Shakespeare
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ring Ring
The phone rang loudly just as they began to walk in. Everyone was so happy to be back home. He answered it with a smile on his face, but didn't know of the tragedy in the news to come. "Angel Investigations, how can I help you?"
"Angel..." A soft, sad whisper came from the other end.
"Willow? What's wrong?" The smile faded. He knew what was wrong... or at least what the 'wrong' was about.
"Buffy... Buffy's dead..." Angel could barely hear her words, but after she said it, he wished he hadn't. He was silent for a few minutes, trying to take in what he was just told. "Angel? Are you still there?"
Silence.
"Angel?" This time Willow's voice was audible, but sounded almost as if she were going to cry.
"Y-yeah... I'm here. How? Who?" He stumbled onto his words, completely denying the reality in his mind.
"Well... can I tell you later? Right now I need you over here... *we* need you over here. The gang and I, I mean. I-I have an idea to bring Buffy back... but I'm going to need your help." Willow tried to sound strong, she tried to sound brave... but Angel knew better.
"I-I'll be there... what do you need?"
"Bring all the books on resurrections you can find... and come quick."
"Okay... bye." With that he hung up the phone, slowly, and still in denial. He sat down for a second and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. **This can't be happening... this can't be happening...* Four words pounding in his mind. Suddenly all the memories he had of her rushed over him. They hit him so intensely it was hard to swallow, and his stomach churned. Flashes and flashes of all the good times came, then slowed down to a complete hault and froze on the memory of the last time they saw each other. Their last kiss. He could remember exactly how she smelled, how she tasted... but now... now all that was gone. **I'm getting her back.**
He pounded his fist into his desk causing it to cave in. He rushed out of the room and strided into the lobby. Apparently Cordy, Gunn, and Wesley heard the loud punch and watched with confused expressions as he started up the stairs. He was mumbling to himself, and they could only make out the words "can't" "books" and the phrase "gotta go".
"Angel?" Wesley asked, confusion and concern in his voice. Unexpectedly Angel whipped around and stared at Wesley with sad eyes.
"Wesley I want you and Cordelia to find every resurrection book we have. Gunn, get me some weapons... guns, swords, axes... anything." **Whoever killed her will go through excruciating pain** The sadness indicated in his eyes turned to fury as he stormed up the flight of steps. "And I want them by an hour!" His distant voice yelled out.
The trio stood there for a moment, looking at each other, confusion written all over their faces.
"I thought he'd be happy to be back home..." Cordy said breaking the silence. They shrugged and went their seperate ways-- finding what needed to be found, and retrieving them for their less than happy boss.
Wesley quietly entered Angel's room to find him packing clothes into a suitcase. "Angel? Is everything alright?" Angel only gave him a sideglance, and continued on with his packing. He took out another bag and furiously shoved 10 stakes, his axe, and 2 tranquelizer guns in. Wesley watched in confusion at the scene before him.
"Has Gunn gotten back with the weapons yet?" He never looked up, just kept packing.
"No... I dont believe so." Wesley talked slowly as he watched Angel scurry around the room to find things.
"Did you find any books?" Again, he didn't look up.
"Well, we've only found 2 so far... but Cordy's looking for more. There's this one book here though that I'm not too sure of." He inched closer to Angel holding the book. Angel took it and began flipping through the pages. "Angel what's wrong? What's going on?"
Silence.
"This is good, find more like this one." He shoved the book back to Wesley, and turned around to his suitcase. To his surprise Wesley grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around.
"Angel, I really dont mind searching for these books, but can you tell me what's happening? Why are we looking for books and weapons? And why are you packing all your clothes?" Concern glinted off his eyes as he held a firm grip on Angel's shoulder.
Angel let out a long sigh and sat down on his bed. His head hung low as he rubbed his palms together, ready to pass on the awful news. "Buffy... Buffy's dead." He choked out.
"Oh my..." Wesley took a seat next to him.
"Willow called and told me. I'm going over there for her resurrection... and I might be staying there for a while. If things dont work out I might stay for a long while... help out. She never told me about Dawn's condition, so I might stay there to take care of her too." Wesley could hear the grief in his voice.
"I see... Would you like the rest of us to come with you?"
"No, just get me what I asked and I'll be fine." Wesley nodded and got up for the door. Before reaching for the doorknob he slightly shifted around.
"I'm sorry Angel. We all loved her dearly... and we all know how much she meant to you." He shifted again and was midway out the door before Angel stopped him.
"Thanks Wes. C-could you not tell Cordy until after I leave?" He stayed planted on the bed, and his head still hung low.
"Yes, of coarse. I'll call Gunn and tell him to quicken his pace. We'll have everything done by the hour." He left and closed the door behind him. Angel sat in silence and began to weep uncontrolably. All the memories flashing through his mind once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is no greater sorrow than to recall, in misery, the time when we were happy.
~~ Dante
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before they left for the shop they thought it best to move Buffy's body. As much as they hated to say it, she wasn't the greatest smelling thing in the world now that she was dead. Dawn gathered some vanilla inscents that Willow got for her one Christmas and began to light them around Buffy's old room. Willow, Giles, and Tara worked on moving her body in. They layed her in her bed and pulled the cover over her... as if she were still alive. They fluffed her pillow under her head, and tucked her in like a small child. The aroma of the inscents filled the room and they silently exited, Dawn being the last one. Before closing the door behind her, she peeked her head inside and in a soft whisper she spoke to her sister, "We'll get you back... I promise. Sleep tight Buffy..." A single tear sped down her cheek as she quietly closed the door, careful not to make a sound.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Soon? What do you mean *soon*?" Buffy's eyes grew dreadful as she watched the female being fade away. Her only response was the word 'soon' echoing off the walls. "WHY THE HELL DO YOU WANT TO MESS WITH EVERYONE I LOVE? WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO SCREW UP THEIR LIVES?" She yelled out into air. Frustration, worry, and fear built up inside of her and it all soon poured out of her mouth in the form of a scream. It was a gut-wrenching, ear-piercing howl. After what seemed like an eternity, her throat grew sore and no more sound could manage to come out of her mouth. Her throat itched with pain and the only thing she could do was watch the life she was missing out on. She sat back against the wooden chair and clutched her throat gently. She watched with blurred eyes the arguement between sides, Spike's determined exit, and the moving of her body. She watched closely as Dawn spoke silently to her... promising to have her back, and wishing her a nice rest. The scene was heartbreaking and Buffy immediately broke into hot tears. She shifted her eyes to Xander and Anya.
Anya looked so peaceful, so tranquil. No one would ever have guessed most of her past life was devoted to revenge. Xander stayed by her unconscious state for hours, awaiting news of her recovery... and of plans to have Buffy back. He kept glancing at the clock on the bedside table... just waiting. He let out a sigh as he read the time- 9:52 AM.
He was a total wreck. His hair was disheveled, skin pale, eyes puffy, and his hands sat shaky on Anya's. Moments later his hands slipped inside his pockets and in his left hand he took out a small velvet blue box. He gazed at it intently, and slowly opened it. Buffy watched as he took out an engagement ring and fiddled with it in his hands. Tears welled up in her eyes once more as he slowly glided the ring onto her finger, then gently kissed her hand. He leaned in slightly, close to her ear, and whispered, "You know the funny thing is... if anyone were to have died or get seriously hurt last night, I thought it would've been me." He paused and tilted his head down a little, "But instead... you got hurt. And Buffy died. Oh God Ahn... I wish *I* could be in both your and Buffy's place... God how I wish so much. Things were supposed to turn out perfect. We'd beat that self-absorbed bitch on wheels from Hell, and then after we'd have a big wedding." He paused again, smiling to himself sadly and went on in a more huskier tone. "The one you'd always dream of-- lots of flowers, big white church, all our friends.... Buffy would've been our Maid Of Honor." A single tear trailed to his lips, and he slowly kissed her on the cheek. "Please Anya.... please come back to me." He dug his head between her shoulder and neck and silently sobbed.
Buffy's heart sank. She balled herself up in a fetal position, bringing her knees close to her and wrapping her arms tightly around them, as she shed rueful tears.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
His heart was in agonizing pain. It was as if someone gauged it out with a wooden spoon covered with splinters and let it bake in the sun. He drove fast, speeding past all who happened to be there with hard music blasting through his speakers. The funny thing was though, he never heard the music... all he heard were the accusations screaming in his head. **Where to go? Where to go?** he asked himself in his head as he drove aimlessly into the heart of the desert... the middle of nowhere. To his surprise he found himself sitting in his DeSoto staring at a cozy shack-like house. The Craftsman Bungalow looked to be a model between early 1900's to maybe late 1920's. The small porch was held up with square columns and had an unusual amount of hanging plants dangling from various hooks. Each of them gave off their own fragrance, leaving the mixture intoxicating. The thatched roof hung over the compact home with wide eaves and decorative brackets. Because the roof was so large a capula sat on the left side, letting the sunshine glimmer off the glass windows. It was surprising to see that this house still stood in the middle of the desert. He knew the land was dry, but as he got out of his car he looked closer to the sides of the house. Spike gave a barely-there smile as he noticed ivy growing up the bungalow siding. He walked up the creaky stairs of the porch and was suddenly engulfed with large vines. Like snakes, they wrapped themselves around his body. When he tried to yell for help a vine wrapped itself around his mouth, and it covered his whole self tightly. He shut his eyes tight, trying not to accept his defeat. **Damn, I can't fail again...* In mere seconds a stake was held to his heart by a petite brunette. "William The Bloody... to what do I owe this visit?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Those who are prepared to die for any cause are seldom defeated."
~~Jawaharlal Nehru
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~