Title: Grave Flower

Author: Bianca Masiello

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, FX, UPN, Mutant Enemy, blah blah. we know the drill.

Walking slow along the path She dare not turn or look back The child like moon's eerie glow The light a place she dare not go May all the dark things hide and cower As she walks the path with her grave flower -Bianca Masiello

Synopsis: Set at the end of Sleeper, what if Spike had gone through with the First's plans? Touch of AU: Tara's alive, and Xand and Anya got hitched. Spuffy but tasteful in a dark way.

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Seventh

The night came and went soundlessly with little other than Xander's light snoring. Anya just kicked him and he turned over. Breakfast was good with the sweets and coffee Xander brought in filled their stomachs while they waited for Tara, Will, and Dawn.

"How many days of school will they let her miss?" Anya asked recording notes of inventory that Xander called out to her in a book.

He moved to the next book case and looked for the title she'd given him. "When we were in high school, god, I don't think you actually had to show up half the year." Xander traced the spines of the books then stopped. "You've got two of The Red Key, editions." He called back. She scribbled more into the log.

"She'll never pass that algebra class at this rate." Anya commented. "Black Valentine," she recited. Xander began to search again.

"Maybe you could tutor her." He suggested.

"Xander, I flunked. I don't think I was even there half the time." She sighed. Xander smiled and knelt to search the lower shelves. "It was your fault too. If I haddn't mentioned that I'd witnessed an Ascension, you wouldn't have dragged me into Buffy's dark fairy tale, and I might have been able to turn my extra credit in on time."

"Aun, think. If you hadn't helped us, we might have lost, then you'd probably'd been Mayor food graduation day." He stopped. "There is no book called Black Valentine on these shelves." Xander stood up.

"It's difficult to balance life and slaying. We have work to do to survive in the human world, and we have to fight for our lives and the world's safety in the demon one. And, we have to do it all never getting any credit for it. It's not like saving the world will make you rich and famous. It's just not fair." Anya complained.

"You have just described Buffy's entire life, except times that by six." He walked over to the counter. He could see that Anya was contemplating his words. Her eyes starred off into space, thinking about what she'd just said.

She finally looked at him and spoke, "Why six,"

Xander sighed and leaned on the counter top, "Dawn, Tara, Willow, Giles, You, and me,"

"Oh," she whispered. She saw him leaning forward and met him half way. They locked lips tenderly.

"Ah-mm," Dawn coughed. They turned to see the three girls enter the shop. Anya still retained that dreamy look in her eyes.

"Good morning ladies," Xander greeted.

"Morning, yes." Willow set her bag down. "Good, not so much." She frowned. "But we worked on some spells last night, I think they'll help." She finished. Willow noticed the weary look in Xander's eyes.

She couldn't help wonder if she would ever work hard enough and be forgiven. Everyone applauded her for her self control and strength when Tara told her she was developing a problem. Then it became: Continue using magick this way, and lose Tara. So she stopped, for a long time, till just recently, Willow felt like she could handle some small spells. And with Tara's help and love, she had, successfully.

"She can handle these," Tara confirmed. "I know she can," the witch smiled at her girlfriend. Willow felt Tara's pride and confidence fill her with warmth.

"The sun will be up in a half an hour." Dawn cut in. "The sewers'll be safer then." The young girl believed.

"Sure hope so." Anya spoke up. "I don't want to have to take on an army like that again for a long while."

"It's too soon for Spike to have built up a group like that. We should have fewer problems with that for at least another day. That's if he's turning more people at all." Dawn spoke assuringly.

"Sprout's right. We really don't know Spike's plan." Xander frowned.

Pause, then, "Giles would know what to do," Anya frowned along with her mate.

"Actually," they all turned at once to see the Watcher in the door way, "I can't do much for you now."

"Giles!" Dawn sounded so relieved as she darted from the table and into the upper part of the shop. Giles released an 'oof' sound as she slammed into him with a bear hug. The fact that he was soaking wet didn't bother her a bit.

"Welcome home," Willow smiled happily. The Scoobies moved into the front shop to greet him.

Giles was frowning, as happy as he was to see them, he couldn't hide his sorrow from her. "Giles, what's going on." Anya spoke, her voice wavering. He set his jaw and lowered his head.

"Everyone," he stepped aside a little to reveal a young girl about Dawn's age. Her russet hair was saturated and wavy, her eyes dark and uneasy, staring back at them.

"Please meet Lindsey," his breath caught in his throat just under his heart. "The Slayer."

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"Hurry up, love," he called into her. Spike stood just outside her bedroom door. They'd waited patiently outside the house for the girls to leave, then slipped inside. Dawn was drawing near and Spike started to get antsy. He didn't want to be trapped at the house.

She appeared in the doorway, "Can you feel that?" she asked. Buffy took a deep breath. Her black bra still visible through the thin white cotton of the shirt she pulled on over her head. Spike glanced over her, smiling at the pair of broken in jeans she'd thrown on. There was a hole in the leg at both knees and he noticed the hole just below her right cheek as she turned back into her room.

"Always know where the sun is in the sky," he replied. "That is when it's not raining like a bloody monsoon." Spike glanced into the room. Buffy had a black leather bag open on her bed and was filling it with things. "Buffy," he started.

"I know what you're going to say, but I'm not leaving without some of my things." She replied quickly.

"I'll get you new things." He said to her. But the blond wasn't listening. He watched as she moved over to her vanity and took a beautiful silver cross off one of the posts; she wasn't careful and touched the cross.

"Ow!" she cried as the cross fell to the carpet. She held her hand to her chest and cursed.

"Should have reminded you," he said moving up behind her.

She shook her head and turned to him, "No, I should have known better." She almost laughed. Spike took her injured hand and lifted her finger tips to his lips and slipped them inside his mouth. His cool tongue was instant aid to her burning skin. Buffy felt a humming start deep inside her. Her first instinct was to kill it, but it felt so right because it was so wrong.

Buffy stepped up closer to Spike, letting her stomach just brush against his. She could see the wanting hunger in his eyes too, so she couldn't explain it when he pulled away, letting her hand drop to her side. Dejected, Buffy pouted internally. She turned and pulled the drawer open violently and retrieved the ring she'd been looking for. She slipped it on and hurried towards the door, leaving everything just the way it was. The black bag abandoned on the bed.

"Lets go." She said bitterly, but she was stopped as Spike grabbed her arm as she passed him. He was strong. Stronger than her yet.

"You may forget, love, but I have a soul. So forgive me if I don't always play nice." He said in a low, calming voice. She was startled, but understood his words. Spike let go of her arm and she lowered her head.

"Sorry," she whispered. Spike motioned for the door. The girl walked slowly out, her sire right behind her. The blond vamp flipped off the light and glanced back once more into the room before following after her.

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Giles had cried almost the whole way there. The plane ride had been excruciating. He didn't cry in sobs, no, she imagined he cried those at the house before coming to get her. It was more of single hot tears falling, escaping when he couldn't hold back his pain any longer.

The others were different. First came the confusion.

"But Buffy's the Slayer," the blond girl put a silly emphasis on the word Slayer. "This girl is, something else, the Slayer of bunnies? Or something? Right?" Her voice rose slowly as she spoke. Her eyes searched Giles for answers of comfort, but found none. "Xander," She said panicked, not sure what else to do. A strong looking young man enveloped her as she began to cry.

Next came the denial.

"There has to be some kind of mistake," The red head spoke. She shook her head, her brown eyes wide. A beautiful young woman with shoulder length sandy blond hair covered her mouth. She had a natural grace that was absolutely spellbinding. Tears fell noiselessly from her green eyes. The red head turned to the graceful woman and shook her head again. The woman opened her arms as the red head collapsed against her. "No!" she began to sob. The sorrow in her voice was like a massive weight pressing on the girl's heart. The red head and the blond lapsed to the floor and rocked each other in grief.

Lastly, there was anger.

It was the young man and the brown haired girl. Their expressions twisted as if the same understanding befell both of them at the same time. The man's eyes glossed, but he never grieved. The girl simply shook, small tremors of pain, but she never moved, never cried, just starred. She looked over at the young man as if she knew he felt the same way as she.

"It was Spike, wasn't it," she breathed. It was more of a fierce, deep, threat. But the man turned to her, blinked allowing a few tears descend freely downward, then took a deep breath to control himself. The girl turned back to Giles. "What did the Council tell you." She asked, in the same rageful tone of voice.

"Only that the Slayer had fallen, and another had been called." He said deadpan. "Seers in a coven there contacted the Council and warned of a great evil rising to power, here in fact." It was evident he'd practiced this, practiced it to the point so he wouldn't cry. "The evil is old and more powerful than I fear we can conceive right now. I was given some texts and artifacts that will aid,"

"Damn you, Giles. Look at you!" she started, her voice was high in her throat, angry and sad. "Buffy's dead. And you just keep on truckin' like it's not real. We don't get that luxury, and neither should you! You were her watcher, her father for Christ's sake. And this," she started again, but couldn't force her self to go on. Xander was there to catch her again when she fell.

Giles was weeping now. The flood gates were open and he cried. The young girl watched in horror as he sank to the ground there in front of the door and sobbed into his own hands. She was shaken by the mourning. The air thickened with lament, their cries blending together in to a aching dirge. And painfully she realized, she didn't know what to do. What was her place? Should she comfort these strangers? Surely Giles would want a hand to hold.

But she knew in her deepest heart that she was the idol that reminded them, would always remind them of their pain, of what they lost. She was a replacement, one of hundreds. She hadn't even fully come to terms with the fact that her life would be short, and the Council she devoted her life to would not morn her.

Yet here she stood, in the wake of another Slayer, watching someone morn for her. It contradicted everything she imaged about her own death. She imagined it to be lonely, brutal, and quickly forgotten as the newest Slayer stepped up to serve. Still they cried. And she was shocked when she felt warm, moist drops of salt water all her own falling down her face. And she cried with them.

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