Still crying a little, Buffy made it across the cemetery to Spike's crypt.
She paused outside the door to compose herself, wiping away tears and
standing a little straighter. Then she pushed the door open confidently
and walked in. The landlord was slouched in his chair watching the
television.
"You know, that door never used to annoy me until you started turning up here regularly," he commented, still watching his show. "Now I just wanna rip it off its bloody hinges."
"Sorry" His guest replied, looking down at her feet. She closed the object in question behind her and headed towards the ladder that led down to the lower level. Throwing her bag down the hole, she slowly descended.
"So, everything go alright at the fortress of Summers? Got what you wanted?" he called out, still slouched pathetically over his chair.
"Yeah" Buffy called out from the lower level. "I got everything." She started to climb back up, and almost fell back down in shock when she saw Spike crouched by the hole in the top. She had forgotten, vampires could move a lot faster than humans. He was on the same eye level as her so it felt like he could read her mind.
"So why do you seem doomier and gloomier than you left?" he asked.
"Would you be Mrs Sunshine if you had just cried to kill your friends?" She asked rhetorically, with some residual cheerleader bitchiness in her voice. She hauled herself out and walked to the darkest corner of the crypt, her back to him.
"Well, yeah I would personally 'cause I'm evil," he said, getting up. "But that's not the point."
He followed and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. She winced but did not shrug them off.
"The point is that I hate to see you unhappy," he continued. "I'm willing to play Landlord to the runaways until the end of the world, but if you're gonna sit here and mope until that happens, it sure ain't gonna be the best end to my un-life."
In front of him, Buffy remained unchanged. Tears were still streaming down her face and her eyes were staring at the flickering flame of a candle on the wall. 'What was that song called, the one Elton John had wrote for Princess Diana?' she asked herself. Candle in the Wind. Always flickering but never going out. She felt like that. Even her low point, dying for example, never kept her down and she kept on burning. She'd lived longer than most Slayers in history, and all because she refused to be put down. She had something they didn't, she had something to live for. Friends. family. Just like Spike had said, it was the only reason she'd lasted so long.
But now they were gone. The only thing she had going for her was her calling as the Slayer. She'd probably meet the end the way that the Chinese and New York Slayer had. Embracing death, even begging it for taking her. Though she already knew that feeling, when she'd jumped into the portal. It was her time, her friends would've been safe. The peace she'd had in Heaven made dying just that little bit more appealing.
Slowly, she turned to face Spike, not looking at him in the eye. He tilted her chin up and offered the best sympathetic smile he could manage. It was enough for Buffy. Her silent tears turned into a river and sobbing, she buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
After a few minutes, she pulled back and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. Then she looked up at Spike. He was still looking sympathetic. Lying had never been one of his strong points so she knew it was genuine. Slowly, they leaned towards each other, one not advancing any faster than the other. Their lips connected and they kissed, not with the fiery passion that had driven them before, but with tenderness. With love.
Buffy laid her hands on his chest and, while still kissing, undid his shirt and slipped it off. Him, at the same time, pushed her jacket from her shoulders. When both pieces of clothing fell to the floor, so did they, shrinking to their knees. Buffy fell to the side, breaking their kiss and pulling Spike on top of her. Then they resumed while undoing each other's pants.
"You know, that door never used to annoy me until you started turning up here regularly," he commented, still watching his show. "Now I just wanna rip it off its bloody hinges."
"Sorry" His guest replied, looking down at her feet. She closed the object in question behind her and headed towards the ladder that led down to the lower level. Throwing her bag down the hole, she slowly descended.
"So, everything go alright at the fortress of Summers? Got what you wanted?" he called out, still slouched pathetically over his chair.
"Yeah" Buffy called out from the lower level. "I got everything." She started to climb back up, and almost fell back down in shock when she saw Spike crouched by the hole in the top. She had forgotten, vampires could move a lot faster than humans. He was on the same eye level as her so it felt like he could read her mind.
"So why do you seem doomier and gloomier than you left?" he asked.
"Would you be Mrs Sunshine if you had just cried to kill your friends?" She asked rhetorically, with some residual cheerleader bitchiness in her voice. She hauled herself out and walked to the darkest corner of the crypt, her back to him.
"Well, yeah I would personally 'cause I'm evil," he said, getting up. "But that's not the point."
He followed and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. She winced but did not shrug them off.
"The point is that I hate to see you unhappy," he continued. "I'm willing to play Landlord to the runaways until the end of the world, but if you're gonna sit here and mope until that happens, it sure ain't gonna be the best end to my un-life."
In front of him, Buffy remained unchanged. Tears were still streaming down her face and her eyes were staring at the flickering flame of a candle on the wall. 'What was that song called, the one Elton John had wrote for Princess Diana?' she asked herself. Candle in the Wind. Always flickering but never going out. She felt like that. Even her low point, dying for example, never kept her down and she kept on burning. She'd lived longer than most Slayers in history, and all because she refused to be put down. She had something they didn't, she had something to live for. Friends. family. Just like Spike had said, it was the only reason she'd lasted so long.
But now they were gone. The only thing she had going for her was her calling as the Slayer. She'd probably meet the end the way that the Chinese and New York Slayer had. Embracing death, even begging it for taking her. Though she already knew that feeling, when she'd jumped into the portal. It was her time, her friends would've been safe. The peace she'd had in Heaven made dying just that little bit more appealing.
Slowly, she turned to face Spike, not looking at him in the eye. He tilted her chin up and offered the best sympathetic smile he could manage. It was enough for Buffy. Her silent tears turned into a river and sobbing, she buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
After a few minutes, she pulled back and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. Then she looked up at Spike. He was still looking sympathetic. Lying had never been one of his strong points so she knew it was genuine. Slowly, they leaned towards each other, one not advancing any faster than the other. Their lips connected and they kissed, not with the fiery passion that had driven them before, but with tenderness. With love.
Buffy laid her hands on his chest and, while still kissing, undid his shirt and slipped it off. Him, at the same time, pushed her jacket from her shoulders. When both pieces of clothing fell to the floor, so did they, shrinking to their knees. Buffy fell to the side, breaking their kiss and pulling Spike on top of her. Then they resumed while undoing each other's pants.