Disclaimer: "So, you believe in God because of Alice in Wonderland?" The
nun is obviously confused. The poor bitch just wanted some spare change for
the orphans of Afghanistan. "No, it's because of the poem 'The Walrus and
the Carpenter'. The walrus, in his girth, represents the eastern religions,
Buddha and such. Now the carpenter represents Joss Whedon, crafter and
owner of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, savior to all those who watch TV," I
start to get excited, as she is obviously drawn in, "Now, at the end of the
poem, they proceed to shuck and devour their followers. To me, that's an
indictment of organized religion." She looks down at her habit, feeling
ashamed. "Now what you need to do is go find some man, some woman, to make
you happy, because that's all life is." A light shines in her face and
without a word, she stands up and skips away. My partner in crime walks
over and sits down next to me. "What the fuck was that?" Anyanka Faith
looks at me disapprovingly. "Ah, you know me, I just love to fuck with the
clergy," I state, grinning.
Rating: R- Ah, mocker! "R" is for the . . . no, I know it begins with some other letter.
Summary: After a horrifying incident, Buffy leaves Sunnydale, vowing never to return. Well, we all know she can't stay away forever.
Author's Notes: God, I am so incredibly sorry I haven't updated sooner! Life is just crazy. I have hours of rehearsal, homework, make-up tests, and such. Not to mention Halloween . . . Also, I had an immense writer's block, and I just couldn't get the chapter the way I wanted it. Oh, but God shone his fucking light down this morning, and I got my inspiration. Either that or I've eaten way too much sugar and I just think it's good. I will probably update sometime next week, but I have night rehearsals and opening night (Romeo and Juliet- that crap in "Rating" is one of my lines), so if I do, it will be a miracle. After next week, I'm free and can write and/or finish this story. This chapter is pretty much a depress-fest, but I made it extra long to make up for the lateness, and there is some minor Spuffy because I'm very lame. I still enjoy the reviews, and hope all y'all love it. Hugs and kisses to all, except to the unloved son ;)
PS: That little review was from the butthole-tight movie "Dogma". The real version of that speech is so incredibly intelligent, but I hope I don't offend anyone with my super-Atheist views. Actually, I don't fucking care. And the title of this story is from Green Day's "Time of Your Life".
Chapter Nine- Dead Skin on Trial
Phoenix held her head high as she skipped through the crisp November air. It was after midnight, and the full moon was just beginning to peak out from behind the trees. As she moved, the world seemed to come alive. The whisper of the trees as the wind blew through their branches, the smell of the cold, made her feel ten years younger. God, even the sight of a vampire running through the cemetery. . .
Vampire!
Oh yeah, that's right! I didn't have a normal childhood! I got to kill monsters when I was younger.
Pulling a stake from her coat pocket, she began to chase after the vampire. In no time, she caught up with him. It wasn't a fair fight, he was obviously a newbie, and in a few seconds he was nothing but a pile of dust.
Hmmm, not bad, considering I haven't dusted a vamp in years.
A sense of comfort came over her as she pocketed the stake. It felt so familiar, running through the graveyards at night, killing its inhabitants. So had the training earlier that day.
During the first half-hour, Giles had the upper hand, continually defeating her in their sparring matches. Then, a switch inside her head turned on, and all the skills she had put away came out. Giles was quite surprised that she would remember so quickly, and by the moves she had picked up while working as the unofficial bouncer at Uranium. While sparring, they talked. Nothing much, just about his life as a father and remembering the good ol' days.
And here she was, reliving those "good ol' days". When the training had concluded, he suggested she go patrolling, just to awaken those instincts. That's why it felt so familiar, and why she suddenly became uneasy.
This comfort was a good feeling, and if she stayed long enough, she might not want to forget those feelings.
Shaking off those thoughts, Phoenix resumed patrolling. Then, it attacked.
A gigantic vampire, 250 pounds of pure muscle, jumped in front of her and backhanded her across the cemetery. She landed twenty feet away, smacking her head against a crypt wall. As she rose, rubbing the back of her head, the anger started to boil.
"I'm SO going to kick you ass for that, Sasquach!"
He laughed at her. "Are those the last words of the great Slayer?"
Putting her hands on her hips, she snarled at him. "First off, I'm not a Slayer anymore. Second off, thousands of demons have tried to kill me and failed, so why do you think YOU'RE gonna do it after all these years. Thirdly, get some deodorant, because you smell like fuck!"
Sasquach growled, lunging at the girl. She dodged the vamp, and then roundhouse kicked him in the knees. As he fell to the ground, she ran to the front and punched him repeatedly in the face. Then, in a move she learned from Terry, jabbed her fingers up his nostrils and pulled up.
Walking around so she faced his back, fingers still up his nose, she whispered into his ear. "Told ya so."
Before she could do anything else, the vamp disappeared in a cloud of dust. Phoenix fell to the ground. She looked up, and found herself facing an extremely drunk . . .
"Spike."
He looked down on her; a stake in one hand, a bottle of Jack Daniel's in the other. He grinned, raising a scarred eyebrow at her.
"Hey luv."
Phoenix quickly got up and came face to face with her ex. "Why the fuck did you do that?"
Shrugging, he took a swig from his bottle. "Thoug you migh need 'elp. 'S muh job, afferall." As the words slurred from his mouth, Phoenix gagged from the smell of him.
"Go home!"
Turning, he started to walk away from her. "You not my mum, so bugger off bint!" In a display of grace, he tripped over a tombstone and landed on his stomach. "Fugginhell!"
She walked over and tried to help him up. Then, he passed out, crumpling up like a rag doll in her arms. "Spike, get up!" She shook him, speaking loudly in his ear. "Spike, get UP!" She rolled him onto his back, then slapped him on the face to wake him. "Come on, you stupid lush!" He wouldn't respond. "FINE!" She stood, pulling him up with her, then began to drag him to his crypt.
Great, just how I wanted to spend the night! Playing nursemaid to a lushified vampire. Life just doesn't get any better.
Five minutes later, they arrived at his crypt. Kicking the door open, Phoenix dragged him through his home, then to his bed down in the pit. Pulling off his boots, she dropped him into bed and covered him.
Exhausted, she began to tour around his crypt. In the past six years, it had changed significantly.
He now had a new set of furniture, two black leather armchairs and a matching sofa. The coffee table, covered in a mountain of liquor bottles, was a beautiful cherry oak chest. Across from this area was the "kitchen", a large refrigerator and microwave, all in black. Even his bedroom, long ago a blown-up hole in the ground, now held a king-sized bed with red sheets, a large dresser, and a small library holding various books.
Even Spike, the 120-year-old former Big Bad, had become domesticated.
Phoenix was unsure of what to do. Spike was pretty bad when he got drunk, and judging from the pile of bottles in the living room, he had had quite a lot to drink. So, she decided to stay in case he needed some help.
She walked over to his fridge, quite hungry. Opening it, she found several Tupperware containers from Anya, a few pizza boxes, and various beverages. His freezer contained a variety of frozen dinners, and obviously, blood. Selecting a dinner of lasagna, she microwaved it. Pulling it out a few minutes later, she sat down on the sofa and turned the television on. It was a re-run of Saturday Night Live.
Slowly, she began to feel sleepy. A few minutes into Weekend Update, she stretched out onto the sofa, and fell asleep.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
A thousand jackhammers drilled into his skull. Waking up to a hangover was not something that Spike enjoyed doing. He delicately held the sides of his head, as if it were made of glass.
Lovely! Bloody lovely! Now I get to stagger home before the sun comes up and bakes me to a golden crisp. He looked at his watch to see how quickly he would have to get home. So, it's . . . 10:30? What the fuck? It was late in the morning, and he was outside, obviously not a big burning pile of dust. What the hell is going on?
It was then that Spike began to realize where he was. He wasn't outside; he was in his bed.
Spike quickly sat up, ignoring the pain in his head. How did I . . .? The last thing he remembered was going out for some more booze and patrol. But after that . . .
Maybe I just got bored, went home, took my shoes off and fell into bed, and I just don't remember that?
He sniffed his clothes, and cringed. Slowly getting out of bed, he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a black T-shirt and jeans. His stomach began to growl, so he complied and went upstairs to eat.
While sifting through the contents for his fridge, he heard a noise behind him. The TV was on, and some female comedienne was complaining about her boyfriend's penis. Maybe before I fell asleep, I watched a bit of TV? Christ, I don't fucking remember.
Walking over, Spike turned off the TV. When he turned around, he saw Buffy, no Phoenix, curled in a ball on the sofa.
Somehow, everything came back to him. He had been walking through the cemetery, then saw her fighting a vamp. He dusted it, then passed out. She must have taken him home, then stayed to make sure he was ok.
Not wanting to deal with her, Spike walked over. "Get up now!" he said blandly into her ear.
The girl opened her eyes, then tried to remember what was going on. She looked over at him, and a look of concern crossed her face. "How are you?"
"Bloody perfect. Now, could you please leave?" He walked over to the door, opening it.
She walked up to him, looking in his eyes. "You were pretty bad last night. I mean, I've never seen anyone that drunk . . ."
"Look," he interrupted, "I'm fine. Don't need your sympathy. All I need is a bag of blood and a re-run of Jeopardy, an' I'll be fine."
Hurt, she pulled away, then went to the couch to retrieve her coat. "I'm sorry, I-I just thought you needed some help."
Slamming the door, Spike followed her. "I don't need your help either! I've been doing pretty fine on my own!"
Phoenix spun around, and stood so she was right in front of him. "From what I saw last night, it looked like you were doing pretty shitty."
As she got angry, Spike could see traces of the old Buffy in her face. The girl he had fallen for, the one woman he vowed to love no matter what, the one who had come so close to loving him.
"I-I've had a bad couple'a days, alright. So I dealt with it poorly," his voice faltered as he looked into her eyes.
The anger melted away to the look of concern. "Why?"
He laughed, right in her face, then walked over to the fridge, still hungry. "Why do you think?"
She tried to figure out, and then it slowly came to her. "I came back," she said, a look of disgust on her face.
He has his back to her, not wanting her to see him break down. "What you did -leaving, it tore me apart. Not just me- Red, Whelp, Demon-girl, Glinda, Watcher. Now, you waltz back in, expecting us to be fine with the fact you're gonna leave again. Well, I'm sorry if I'm not ok with this. It took me too long to be ok with it the first time."
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
2003- four days after Dawn's death
The group silently filed through the door, not speaking to one another. The funeral had been hell, two hours of misery. Only high point Spike could find was the fact it was pouring down rain, so her could attend it with everyone and pay his final respects to his Bit.
Xander brought up the rear, closing the door slowly. As everyone went to the living room, Buffy walked upstairs to her bedroom, then locked the door.
They shed their soaked raincoats and sat, not wanting to speak.
Tara clutched Willow's hand, her face streaked with thousands of tears. She sniffed, then looked at Giles. "I-is Buffy g-going to be alright?" Her voice faltered, and she started to weep again. Anya and Willow soon joined her, as did Giles and Xander.
Spike, not wanting them to see, went to the kitchen to fix up a mug of blood. As it sat in the microwave warming up, he felt the tears fall down his cheeks.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Three days later
Spike woke up as the front door opened. He had fallen asleep in the living room with Giles and Anya watching a documentary on African hyenas.
It was Xander, carrying a box of doughnuts and a few cups of coffee. Setting them down on the coffee table, he pulled out a package from under his arm and handed it to Spike. Opening it up, Spike discovered it filled with bags of blood.
"Thanks, Whelp." He said, looking up.
Xander shrugged, then went to the couch where Anya slept. He carefully pulled her up, sat down, then let her head rest in his lap. She frowned for a second, then snuggled deeper in.
Willow and Tara came down moments later. The group sat around in the living room, munching on the food and watching a re-decorating program.
Hours passed by slowly.
Cuddled up against Willow, Tara heard the clock in the hallway chime 11 o'clock. "Is someone going to get Buffy," she asked, to no one in particular.
Giles sat up, leaning back in an armchair. "I guess someone should. She hasn't been out of her room since yesterday morning."
"Do we really want to bother her?" Xander was massaging Anya's neck. "I mean, shouldn't we let her be by herself?"
Shaking his head, Giles reached for a jelly doughnut. "The longer she stays like this, the harder it will be to get her out of it."
Letting go of her partner, Willow stood up. "I'll go."
"Me too." Spike set his cup of blood down, and followed the redhead up the stairs.
At her bedroom door, Willow knocked softly. "Buffy? Are you up? It's me, Willow. Spike's here with me. Would you let us in please." There was no answer.
Spike nudged her. "Maybe she's in there," he suggested, pointing at the bathroom.
Willow walked over, and knocked on the door. No answer. She opened the door to find it empty.
She went back to Spike, knocking again. "Come on Buffy, let us in!" She began to pound on the door. "I don't like this," she said, whispering in his ear, "She hasn't been this bad since Angel . . ."
A look of panic crossed her face as she spoke.
"Since Angel what?" Spike asked, quite confused.
Willow turned back to the door, pounding and screaming simultaneously. "BUFFY! BUFFY!" She tried to open it, finding the door locked. "OH GOD, SPIKE!" Pointing frantically at the door, she indicated to him to break down the door. With a swift kick, the door swung open. Willow screamed.
The room was a mess, drawers pulled out, and clothing scattered across the room. It was as if her room had been raped of anything precious to her. All her pictures, jewelry, Mr. Gordo, were missing.
Spinning on her heels, Willow ran down the stairs. "GILES! GILES! SHE'S GONE!"
Spike remained in her bedroom, completely in shock.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
One week later
Tara broke down as Giles replayed the message. Anya clutched onto Xander, both of them staring at the machine. Willow, after hearing it the first time, ran to the bathroom vomiting.
It was odd. Giles had stopped by his apartment to retrieve some clothing, but came back in tears with his answering machine. Buffy had called
"I'm sorry I bailed out on all of you, but I needed some time to think. And I've done that . . ."
Spike heard the words, but remained numb. If he didn't think about it, it wouldn't hurt as much.
"I'm not coming back . . . Don't try to find me . . ."
Giles insisted that they all be together when they heard the message, as it contained a message for each of them.
"And, if you can find him, tell Spike that I love him . . ."
She loved him, and yet again, he couldn't help her.
"I love all of you more than I can explain, and hope you have a wonderful future without pain . . ."
How can we have a wonderful future if she's gone? Spike put his head down as he started to cry.
"Goodbye . . . forever."
Spike put his head up, his tears now hot and full of anger. "Whoever wants to get fucking sloshed with me, come downstairs!"
As he got up, Xander grabbed a bottle of vodka behind the couch, then followed the bleached vampire down to the basement.
Vodka makes all the pain go away . . .
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Phoenix stood in shock as Spike weepingly told the story. He had given up on finding food, and now sat on the couch, crying hard.
He finished, looking up at the girl, expecting a reaction. She was still in the same spot, staring blankly ahead.
With the back of his hand, he brushed away the tears. "Now that you know, I want you to leave me alone."
He turned to get up, then heard a thump. Spinning quickly around, he saw Phoenix lying on the ground, in a huddled mass, sobbing hard.
"I . . . I-I . . . only w-w-wanted you g-guys to b-be h-h-hap . . ."
Spike ran to her, sitting down and gathering her in his arms. "We couldn't be happy." He rubbed his face into her hair, tears starting to fall again. "You weren't with us," he whispered.
"I'm s-so sorry Spike," she cried freely.
He stroked her head. "But you're back now."
Rating: R- Ah, mocker! "R" is for the . . . no, I know it begins with some other letter.
Summary: After a horrifying incident, Buffy leaves Sunnydale, vowing never to return. Well, we all know she can't stay away forever.
Author's Notes: God, I am so incredibly sorry I haven't updated sooner! Life is just crazy. I have hours of rehearsal, homework, make-up tests, and such. Not to mention Halloween . . . Also, I had an immense writer's block, and I just couldn't get the chapter the way I wanted it. Oh, but God shone his fucking light down this morning, and I got my inspiration. Either that or I've eaten way too much sugar and I just think it's good. I will probably update sometime next week, but I have night rehearsals and opening night (Romeo and Juliet- that crap in "Rating" is one of my lines), so if I do, it will be a miracle. After next week, I'm free and can write and/or finish this story. This chapter is pretty much a depress-fest, but I made it extra long to make up for the lateness, and there is some minor Spuffy because I'm very lame. I still enjoy the reviews, and hope all y'all love it. Hugs and kisses to all, except to the unloved son ;)
PS: That little review was from the butthole-tight movie "Dogma". The real version of that speech is so incredibly intelligent, but I hope I don't offend anyone with my super-Atheist views. Actually, I don't fucking care. And the title of this story is from Green Day's "Time of Your Life".
Chapter Nine- Dead Skin on Trial
Phoenix held her head high as she skipped through the crisp November air. It was after midnight, and the full moon was just beginning to peak out from behind the trees. As she moved, the world seemed to come alive. The whisper of the trees as the wind blew through their branches, the smell of the cold, made her feel ten years younger. God, even the sight of a vampire running through the cemetery. . .
Vampire!
Oh yeah, that's right! I didn't have a normal childhood! I got to kill monsters when I was younger.
Pulling a stake from her coat pocket, she began to chase after the vampire. In no time, she caught up with him. It wasn't a fair fight, he was obviously a newbie, and in a few seconds he was nothing but a pile of dust.
Hmmm, not bad, considering I haven't dusted a vamp in years.
A sense of comfort came over her as she pocketed the stake. It felt so familiar, running through the graveyards at night, killing its inhabitants. So had the training earlier that day.
During the first half-hour, Giles had the upper hand, continually defeating her in their sparring matches. Then, a switch inside her head turned on, and all the skills she had put away came out. Giles was quite surprised that she would remember so quickly, and by the moves she had picked up while working as the unofficial bouncer at Uranium. While sparring, they talked. Nothing much, just about his life as a father and remembering the good ol' days.
And here she was, reliving those "good ol' days". When the training had concluded, he suggested she go patrolling, just to awaken those instincts. That's why it felt so familiar, and why she suddenly became uneasy.
This comfort was a good feeling, and if she stayed long enough, she might not want to forget those feelings.
Shaking off those thoughts, Phoenix resumed patrolling. Then, it attacked.
A gigantic vampire, 250 pounds of pure muscle, jumped in front of her and backhanded her across the cemetery. She landed twenty feet away, smacking her head against a crypt wall. As she rose, rubbing the back of her head, the anger started to boil.
"I'm SO going to kick you ass for that, Sasquach!"
He laughed at her. "Are those the last words of the great Slayer?"
Putting her hands on her hips, she snarled at him. "First off, I'm not a Slayer anymore. Second off, thousands of demons have tried to kill me and failed, so why do you think YOU'RE gonna do it after all these years. Thirdly, get some deodorant, because you smell like fuck!"
Sasquach growled, lunging at the girl. She dodged the vamp, and then roundhouse kicked him in the knees. As he fell to the ground, she ran to the front and punched him repeatedly in the face. Then, in a move she learned from Terry, jabbed her fingers up his nostrils and pulled up.
Walking around so she faced his back, fingers still up his nose, she whispered into his ear. "Told ya so."
Before she could do anything else, the vamp disappeared in a cloud of dust. Phoenix fell to the ground. She looked up, and found herself facing an extremely drunk . . .
"Spike."
He looked down on her; a stake in one hand, a bottle of Jack Daniel's in the other. He grinned, raising a scarred eyebrow at her.
"Hey luv."
Phoenix quickly got up and came face to face with her ex. "Why the fuck did you do that?"
Shrugging, he took a swig from his bottle. "Thoug you migh need 'elp. 'S muh job, afferall." As the words slurred from his mouth, Phoenix gagged from the smell of him.
"Go home!"
Turning, he started to walk away from her. "You not my mum, so bugger off bint!" In a display of grace, he tripped over a tombstone and landed on his stomach. "Fugginhell!"
She walked over and tried to help him up. Then, he passed out, crumpling up like a rag doll in her arms. "Spike, get up!" She shook him, speaking loudly in his ear. "Spike, get UP!" She rolled him onto his back, then slapped him on the face to wake him. "Come on, you stupid lush!" He wouldn't respond. "FINE!" She stood, pulling him up with her, then began to drag him to his crypt.
Great, just how I wanted to spend the night! Playing nursemaid to a lushified vampire. Life just doesn't get any better.
Five minutes later, they arrived at his crypt. Kicking the door open, Phoenix dragged him through his home, then to his bed down in the pit. Pulling off his boots, she dropped him into bed and covered him.
Exhausted, she began to tour around his crypt. In the past six years, it had changed significantly.
He now had a new set of furniture, two black leather armchairs and a matching sofa. The coffee table, covered in a mountain of liquor bottles, was a beautiful cherry oak chest. Across from this area was the "kitchen", a large refrigerator and microwave, all in black. Even his bedroom, long ago a blown-up hole in the ground, now held a king-sized bed with red sheets, a large dresser, and a small library holding various books.
Even Spike, the 120-year-old former Big Bad, had become domesticated.
Phoenix was unsure of what to do. Spike was pretty bad when he got drunk, and judging from the pile of bottles in the living room, he had had quite a lot to drink. So, she decided to stay in case he needed some help.
She walked over to his fridge, quite hungry. Opening it, she found several Tupperware containers from Anya, a few pizza boxes, and various beverages. His freezer contained a variety of frozen dinners, and obviously, blood. Selecting a dinner of lasagna, she microwaved it. Pulling it out a few minutes later, she sat down on the sofa and turned the television on. It was a re-run of Saturday Night Live.
Slowly, she began to feel sleepy. A few minutes into Weekend Update, she stretched out onto the sofa, and fell asleep.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
A thousand jackhammers drilled into his skull. Waking up to a hangover was not something that Spike enjoyed doing. He delicately held the sides of his head, as if it were made of glass.
Lovely! Bloody lovely! Now I get to stagger home before the sun comes up and bakes me to a golden crisp. He looked at his watch to see how quickly he would have to get home. So, it's . . . 10:30? What the fuck? It was late in the morning, and he was outside, obviously not a big burning pile of dust. What the hell is going on?
It was then that Spike began to realize where he was. He wasn't outside; he was in his bed.
Spike quickly sat up, ignoring the pain in his head. How did I . . .? The last thing he remembered was going out for some more booze and patrol. But after that . . .
Maybe I just got bored, went home, took my shoes off and fell into bed, and I just don't remember that?
He sniffed his clothes, and cringed. Slowly getting out of bed, he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a black T-shirt and jeans. His stomach began to growl, so he complied and went upstairs to eat.
While sifting through the contents for his fridge, he heard a noise behind him. The TV was on, and some female comedienne was complaining about her boyfriend's penis. Maybe before I fell asleep, I watched a bit of TV? Christ, I don't fucking remember.
Walking over, Spike turned off the TV. When he turned around, he saw Buffy, no Phoenix, curled in a ball on the sofa.
Somehow, everything came back to him. He had been walking through the cemetery, then saw her fighting a vamp. He dusted it, then passed out. She must have taken him home, then stayed to make sure he was ok.
Not wanting to deal with her, Spike walked over. "Get up now!" he said blandly into her ear.
The girl opened her eyes, then tried to remember what was going on. She looked over at him, and a look of concern crossed her face. "How are you?"
"Bloody perfect. Now, could you please leave?" He walked over to the door, opening it.
She walked up to him, looking in his eyes. "You were pretty bad last night. I mean, I've never seen anyone that drunk . . ."
"Look," he interrupted, "I'm fine. Don't need your sympathy. All I need is a bag of blood and a re-run of Jeopardy, an' I'll be fine."
Hurt, she pulled away, then went to the couch to retrieve her coat. "I'm sorry, I-I just thought you needed some help."
Slamming the door, Spike followed her. "I don't need your help either! I've been doing pretty fine on my own!"
Phoenix spun around, and stood so she was right in front of him. "From what I saw last night, it looked like you were doing pretty shitty."
As she got angry, Spike could see traces of the old Buffy in her face. The girl he had fallen for, the one woman he vowed to love no matter what, the one who had come so close to loving him.
"I-I've had a bad couple'a days, alright. So I dealt with it poorly," his voice faltered as he looked into her eyes.
The anger melted away to the look of concern. "Why?"
He laughed, right in her face, then walked over to the fridge, still hungry. "Why do you think?"
She tried to figure out, and then it slowly came to her. "I came back," she said, a look of disgust on her face.
He has his back to her, not wanting her to see him break down. "What you did -leaving, it tore me apart. Not just me- Red, Whelp, Demon-girl, Glinda, Watcher. Now, you waltz back in, expecting us to be fine with the fact you're gonna leave again. Well, I'm sorry if I'm not ok with this. It took me too long to be ok with it the first time."
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
2003- four days after Dawn's death
The group silently filed through the door, not speaking to one another. The funeral had been hell, two hours of misery. Only high point Spike could find was the fact it was pouring down rain, so her could attend it with everyone and pay his final respects to his Bit.
Xander brought up the rear, closing the door slowly. As everyone went to the living room, Buffy walked upstairs to her bedroom, then locked the door.
They shed their soaked raincoats and sat, not wanting to speak.
Tara clutched Willow's hand, her face streaked with thousands of tears. She sniffed, then looked at Giles. "I-is Buffy g-going to be alright?" Her voice faltered, and she started to weep again. Anya and Willow soon joined her, as did Giles and Xander.
Spike, not wanting them to see, went to the kitchen to fix up a mug of blood. As it sat in the microwave warming up, he felt the tears fall down his cheeks.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Three days later
Spike woke up as the front door opened. He had fallen asleep in the living room with Giles and Anya watching a documentary on African hyenas.
It was Xander, carrying a box of doughnuts and a few cups of coffee. Setting them down on the coffee table, he pulled out a package from under his arm and handed it to Spike. Opening it up, Spike discovered it filled with bags of blood.
"Thanks, Whelp." He said, looking up.
Xander shrugged, then went to the couch where Anya slept. He carefully pulled her up, sat down, then let her head rest in his lap. She frowned for a second, then snuggled deeper in.
Willow and Tara came down moments later. The group sat around in the living room, munching on the food and watching a re-decorating program.
Hours passed by slowly.
Cuddled up against Willow, Tara heard the clock in the hallway chime 11 o'clock. "Is someone going to get Buffy," she asked, to no one in particular.
Giles sat up, leaning back in an armchair. "I guess someone should. She hasn't been out of her room since yesterday morning."
"Do we really want to bother her?" Xander was massaging Anya's neck. "I mean, shouldn't we let her be by herself?"
Shaking his head, Giles reached for a jelly doughnut. "The longer she stays like this, the harder it will be to get her out of it."
Letting go of her partner, Willow stood up. "I'll go."
"Me too." Spike set his cup of blood down, and followed the redhead up the stairs.
At her bedroom door, Willow knocked softly. "Buffy? Are you up? It's me, Willow. Spike's here with me. Would you let us in please." There was no answer.
Spike nudged her. "Maybe she's in there," he suggested, pointing at the bathroom.
Willow walked over, and knocked on the door. No answer. She opened the door to find it empty.
She went back to Spike, knocking again. "Come on Buffy, let us in!" She began to pound on the door. "I don't like this," she said, whispering in his ear, "She hasn't been this bad since Angel . . ."
A look of panic crossed her face as she spoke.
"Since Angel what?" Spike asked, quite confused.
Willow turned back to the door, pounding and screaming simultaneously. "BUFFY! BUFFY!" She tried to open it, finding the door locked. "OH GOD, SPIKE!" Pointing frantically at the door, she indicated to him to break down the door. With a swift kick, the door swung open. Willow screamed.
The room was a mess, drawers pulled out, and clothing scattered across the room. It was as if her room had been raped of anything precious to her. All her pictures, jewelry, Mr. Gordo, were missing.
Spinning on her heels, Willow ran down the stairs. "GILES! GILES! SHE'S GONE!"
Spike remained in her bedroom, completely in shock.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
One week later
Tara broke down as Giles replayed the message. Anya clutched onto Xander, both of them staring at the machine. Willow, after hearing it the first time, ran to the bathroom vomiting.
It was odd. Giles had stopped by his apartment to retrieve some clothing, but came back in tears with his answering machine. Buffy had called
"I'm sorry I bailed out on all of you, but I needed some time to think. And I've done that . . ."
Spike heard the words, but remained numb. If he didn't think about it, it wouldn't hurt as much.
"I'm not coming back . . . Don't try to find me . . ."
Giles insisted that they all be together when they heard the message, as it contained a message for each of them.
"And, if you can find him, tell Spike that I love him . . ."
She loved him, and yet again, he couldn't help her.
"I love all of you more than I can explain, and hope you have a wonderful future without pain . . ."
How can we have a wonderful future if she's gone? Spike put his head down as he started to cry.
"Goodbye . . . forever."
Spike put his head up, his tears now hot and full of anger. "Whoever wants to get fucking sloshed with me, come downstairs!"
As he got up, Xander grabbed a bottle of vodka behind the couch, then followed the bleached vampire down to the basement.
Vodka makes all the pain go away . . .
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
Phoenix stood in shock as Spike weepingly told the story. He had given up on finding food, and now sat on the couch, crying hard.
He finished, looking up at the girl, expecting a reaction. She was still in the same spot, staring blankly ahead.
With the back of his hand, he brushed away the tears. "Now that you know, I want you to leave me alone."
He turned to get up, then heard a thump. Spinning quickly around, he saw Phoenix lying on the ground, in a huddled mass, sobbing hard.
"I . . . I-I . . . only w-w-wanted you g-guys to b-be h-h-hap . . ."
Spike ran to her, sitting down and gathering her in his arms. "We couldn't be happy." He rubbed his face into her hair, tears starting to fall again. "You weren't with us," he whispered.
"I'm s-so sorry Spike," she cried freely.
He stroked her head. "But you're back now."