Seven inches of snow in a red hot California day.
Seven inches of bloodred snow that burned into your skin.
Sinking deep through your veins, boiling your eyes in their sockets.
Seven inches of hate.
Seven inches of hope.
Watch as it burns.
The reaper was coming, coming all too soon. The reaper came with it's shiny blade, to take what came to it. And yet the reaper could not grab him, like the eastern fogg he went, running, fading like snow in the burning sun.
William could feel the reaper coming to take him, coming to reap what belonged to it,
but he wasn't ready to go quite yet. Not yet ready by far, for when the reaper came, he
had to be ready.
Had to have manners, had to have etiquette as the reaper would come.
Spike burned along with him, hearing the reapers call, hearing the reapers pledge.
But the vampire tangled him in bounds of steel, refusing to let go. And William thought it
was good that way.
Their embrace and endless tumble of their fall.
He could feel the reaper coming, coming to take...
She stood before him, effulgent. She stood there gleaming like the morning sun and the
vampire basked in her shine. It was tempting, that light, to know it as home. Tempting, so
pleasing, so gloriously home.
Effulgent.
True.
Why can't they see.
Button, button, who's got the button.
The reaper's coming to take it's own.
William is a good boy, carries the water, carries the sin, wants to help but can't.
William's a good boy, clinging to the darkness, refusing to let go, tangled up in a mire
of nothingness. For once demon and man united in a braid binding death flesh so it walks.
William is a good boy, running from the reaper. Hiding in the shadows, shadows where it belongs. Home, he's always been here, allways will be. Can't you see the reaper coming?
And the blessed lady comes.
I'm scared, the demon says. Basking in the glory of peace, defiling her effulgence.
And she's taken away.
Off course she is, of course.
"Get out of the basement" it says "This place is killing you." it
says.
But where could he go that the reaper would not come?
She dances, he dances, they dance in the shadows, the blood creeps, inches high, bloodred snow.
William huddles, cries in red.
"I don't want to go"
He tells the reaper
But the reaper is deaf, it hears no mercy.
And she dances, and he dances, and the braid loosens. The demon holds his hands, then his fingers, unwilling to let him go, yet he does, dancing along the moons rays and into the girl.
"I hurt the girl."
And she bleeds.
And she weeps.
And the demon stands there, weeping in loss.
Man and woman, demon and Slayer.
William is a good man.
Buffy is a good woman.
He/she remembers that now.
Home effulgently so, yet the vampire weeps for what was his, as soul and body unite once
more.
She kneels before him now, remembering his pain, his light, effulgent, home, no more.