Title: Goodbye Spike

Spoilers: After Chosen

Summary: Buffy struggles to find a way to say goodbye.

"We should have a funeral for them," Andrew announced suddenly. In the sleepy darkness, his voice was loud and alien and made them all jump. "I mean," he went on to explain, "it might help. We had a funeral for Warren, even though we didn't have a body, and it gave us a chance…"

"Oh god," Willow choked out, cutting off Andrew's rambling. "Oh god."

"What's wrong?" Kennedy asked.

"Tara," Willow whimpered. "Tara is back there…"

Buffy kept her eyes carefully trained on the cars in the next lane. She didn't want to look at or talk to anybody. She wanted to be alone. But as Willow's sobs rose into the air, her own tears clogged her throat.

"Mom is back there too," Dawn whispered. "Mom is back there too. All her stuff, in the house…"

There hadn't been any real tears up to this point. They were all focused on their injuries, on their exhaustion, on simply surviving and making it to LA. Giles sat in the front of the bus with Wood and Faith, working out plans for the immediate future. Xander looked like he was asleep, but over the muffled sobs of Willow and Dawn, Buffy could hear his tears as well.

"Anyway," Andrew continued, seemingly oblivious to the pain his suggestion caused, "we should have a funeral to remember Anya…and Spike."

"Buffy?" Dawn asked softly, "Can you tell us what happened?"

Buffy shook her head. A funeral? A funeral for Spike? Can you have a funeral without a body? She wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to be able to keep it together for much longer.

"Maybe when we get to LA," Andrew finished.

"It's a good idea," Xander's voice, deep, husky, thick with pain.

The newly made slayers remained silent, either asleep or unsure of what they should add to the discussion.

"We'll do it when we get there," Buffy intoned. Please, please don't make me talk right now. I can't bear it right now.

They could have a funeral for Anya, Buffy decided, but not for Spike. It wouldn't be appropriate. They would just get in a fight, they wouldn't understand that she needed time to mourn him. They wouldn't understand why she needed time to mourn him.

They all lapsed into silence, and soon even the broken sounds escaping Willow slowed, but didn't stop. Buffy could hear Xander's breathing slow, and one by one, they all fell asleep. She was almost asleep herself when Xander sat down on the seat next to her.

"Buff? You awake?"

"I am, Xander. What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you want to talk."

"I'm fine, Xan. How are you?"

"I don't think it's sunk in yet that I won't see her anymore. I mean, she's Anya, over 1000 years old. She's not supposed to be gone."

"I know how you feel."

"Buffy…I don't know how to say this exactly."

"Words are good."

"About Spike…"

"I don't want to hear about it, Xander." She cut him off sharply, her voice more abrupt and cold than she meant. It didn't stop her friend from continuing though.

"About Spike, I know that you felt something for him…and I haven't always been the most supportive friend."

"I love him," Buffy said softly.

Xander nodded, "Yeah, yeah I know. That's why it's ok to cry, Buff. Nobody is going to think less of you."

"You would have before."

"We were wrong. I get that now. I want to help you. Maybe we can help each other."

One cold tear, then another, fell from her eyes. "I've loved him for a long time," she confessed. "I fought it and him, but I loved him. And when I told him, he…"

"He what?" Xander prompted gently.

"He didn't believe me," she choked out. The memory of his words No you don't caused new waves of pain to roll through her body. No you don't.

Xander didn't know how to respond to that. Spike finally heard the one thing he always wanted to hear, and he dismissed it? Why? What could have possessed Spike to say something that cruel to the woman who just bared her heart to him?

"He's wrong though," she added. "He's wrong."

"I know, Buffy."

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Ok, I'll be here when you do."

Buffy appreciated the effort Xander made, and knew that he needed support from her. But she just couldn't give it, she barely had enough strength for herself. She offered Xander a water smile, and hoped that he would understand. He nodded and moved back to his own seat, leaving her alone.

A funeral. The thought won't leave Buffy's head. Anya needed a funeral. She deserved a memorial. She deserved a grave. She deserved better than she got. A funeral for Amanda would be good too. She died right in front of Buffy, her large eyes open, staring straight ahead into empty nothingness. Spike was looking ahead too, into some unknown world, right before he died.

Died. Spike died. Dead. No more Spike. Gone. Forever. No matter how many times Buffy repeated the words to herself, she still couldn't quite believe it. Maybe that's why they couldn't have a funeral for him. Because it's not like he was really gone was it? Of course not. Anya was really gone, the slayers were really gone, but Spike? He'll be back.

Willow was still making choking half-sobs, and suddenly, Buffy was furious. Anger eclipsed sorrow and pain, and she wanted to injure something, or someone. How could Willow sit there and sob because she lost the grave of someone she loved, but couldn't even spare a word to Buffy? How could Willow sob like she lost anything? She had her time to mourn, didn't she? She had a new girlfriend, didn't she? She wasn't alone. How could she be so selfish?

It occurred to Buffy that if they did have a funeral for Spike, they would probably all be on their best behavior. They would probably pretend to be sorry he died. They would all pretend to understand and offer her what support they could. And that would be even worse than if they acted cold and uncaring, because hey, at least then they would be honest.

She could always have her own memorial service for him. Something small, quiet, and simple. A good-bye, that wasn't really a good-bye because how can you say good-bye to Spike? Where did he even go?

Oh God, where did he even go? Buffy had just assumed that since he saved the world, closed the Hellmouth, probably destroyed the hell dimension and had a soul, he would go to Heaven. But there was no way to know for sure, and it's not even like Buffy understood how all that worked. Who gets to decide where people go when they die? What if he was in Hell? What if his great reward for saving the Earth was to be tortured for Eternity?

She felt absolutely sick at the thought. All he wanted to do was rest. He deserved to rest. Buffy looked out to the window, to the stars as if they held an answer. And maybe they did. Looking at them, she realized they were the same stars that lit Spike's path for over a century. She knew that he used to lie on the roof of his crypt and stare up at the sky, looking for something it seemed. Maybe if Buffy looked hard enough, she could find what he was searching for.

Maybe he already found it. He felt it, he said so. He felt his soul, and how could he feel his soul if he was going to hell? No, he was resting. She had to believe that, because if she didn't she would lose the tenuous grip she had on her grief, and it would consume her.

Perhaps a small, quiet funeral under his stars, lit only by the moon would be appropriate. At the crater. She would come back to the remains Sunnydale first chance she got, and she would tell him goodbye. Alone. Because they would never understand. She only barely understood herself. They wouldn't understand that they weren't really there to say goodbye. Because you can't say goodbye to Spike.