5.
Buffy dreamed, but it wasn't a Slayer dream. No omens, no portents, nothing vaguely Destiny-ish showed up. Just a mix of the weird and the painful.
Her mom was making cocoa for Spike, and they were talking about the last episode of Passions. She couldn't hear the conversation very well, maybe because people kept tromping through the kitchen at random, walking off with orange juice and brownies, getting knives to sharpen stakes, saying hi to her mom and ignoring Buffy completely. Which was okay. She stayed in the corner of the room, and just watched them laughing together, feeling content.
Chloe wandered by, munching on a cookie, and finally stopped to ask her if it was time to train. Buffy nodded, not really paying attention because Spike had just winked at her. She turned back to Chloe and surprised a sober, quiet stare on the girl's face. "What?"
"Can I call my mom now?"
"Sure."
"Where's the phone?"
"Over there--" Buffy turned to point, and saw Spike put down his cup of hot chocolate and walk over to the back door, his hand on the doorknob. "Wait, Spike, no--"
Sunlight came blazing in, blinding her, and when she blinked it away, Chloe and Spike were gone, and her mom was shaking her head.
"You're forgetting, Buffy."
"What am I forgetting?"
Mom just *looked* at her, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world--
--and suddenly she was on a beach, a beach that she recognized, that she'd never been to in her life. A beach she'd still visited every night for four months, the summer she ran away.
She closed her eyes, refusing to look at the man sitting beside her, just listening to the birds and the crash of the waves.
"Won't work, pet."
"Yes, it will."
"Slayer--"
"It worked last time."
"You know better now. You know how the story ends."
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, and her voice came out thin and crushed. "I killed you."
"No, you didn't." His hands in hers felt real, solid and cool, this wasn't a dream, it wasn't, it wasn't--
"Open your eyes, Buffy."
And she did, she had to, because she couldn't resist his voice, that tone of love and mockery; but the last thing she wanted to see was Spike there, because that meant it was all over. Sitting on the sand next to her, holding her hand, smiling at her easily, no pain, no anger, no blame. Like Angel had, when he was in Hell.
He was so beautiful in sunlight.
"I'm sorry...."
"...sorry...."
The sound of her own voice woke her up, and she froze, listening. Dawn turned over on her bed, smacking her lips, but stayed fast asleep. The sunrise was just starting to peek through the curtains.
She dressed silently and tip-toed out,made her way downstairs and and through the lobby, waving at the desk clerk as she went by, and then turned for the beach as soon as she was out the door. She slogged across the sand to the edge of the water, then let her knees give way as the tears broke free at last.
It wasn't anything like her dream: no docks in sight, a harsher breeze, and a rockier shore. The marine layer was thick, the fog rolling in and obscuring the sun, nothing like the brilliant sunlight on Spike's hair that was so clear in her mind. But it was as good a place as any to lose it completely.
She cried for the girls who she hadn't been able to save, whose parents and families she'd have to call later today. Giles had offered, but it was her fault, so it was her job. Even for the ones whose names she couldn't remember. I'm sorry, your daughter was very brave, she helped save the world, she's lying at the bottom of a crater where the town used to be. I didn't teach her enough, I didn't say it right, I'm sorry I couldn't get her ready in time, it's not fair and I wish I could make it better and I know I can't. I wish it were different, I wish she'd never heard of us, I'm sorry. Anya, Amanda, Chao Ahn... I'm sorry.
She cried for her mom, and all of the pictures, possessions, letters, cards, every single memento that had gotten buried under a million tons of dirt and would never be found again. One picture, one photo of her and Dawn and Mom together, stuck in her purse, and that was it. Just like Tara's grave, and Anya's body, and every trace of what she'd done for the last seven years-- all gone. Like it had never happened. And she was *glad* the Hellmouth was closed, but that was a big chunk of her life that had just disappeared, and maybe the best parts were asleep in the hotel behind her, but she could miss it without anyone thinking she was crying about the mall, couldn't she?
And she cried for Spike. From relief (now I'll never have to kill him, thank you, whoever's in charge), vindication (I *knew* he was good, I knew he could help, I was right, I'm so proud of him), anger (Are you coming back in one hundred and forty-seven days? Are you going to make me wait longer, you bastard? Is this payback for jumping off the tower?), and grief (He believed me, I know he did, it wasn't a lie, no matter what he said, he said it so I'd leave... maybe we'd never have grandkids, but it was real then and it's real now and I want him back, I want him back, I want him back....)
Someone's arm went around her, and Buffy jolted back, almost falling over into the soft sand.
"Relax. I just brought you some Kleenex. Dorkhead." Dawn's tone was sarcastic but her hands were gentle as she dabbed at Buffy's tears, then put the tissue in her hand. "Blow."
She sniffed and blew her nose, wiping her face and feeling the puffiness starting around her eyes. "How'd you find me?"
"The hotel clerk pointed me this way. You weren't *that* hard to find." Dawn's eyes were tired, but not tear-swollen, and Buffy could only be grateful that her sister wasn't falling apart too.
"I guess it all just hit me, and I didn't want to wake you up."
"You have to quit leaving when you're upset. Remember how much it pissed me off when mom died, and you shut me out?"
She bit her lip, ashamed. It hadn't been the last time. Or even the last time she promised not to ditch Dawn again, and broken her promise. God, she never learned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, it snuck up on me..."
"Yeah. Well." Dawn looped an arm around her shoulders, and Buffy gave in to gravity and leaned against her, exhausted. "Someday you'll get that I won't let you leave, and I'll probably have a heart attack and die from shock. Until then? You're a dorkhead."
Laughing was beyond her, but Buffy managed a shaky smile. "We're gonna be okay, you know. I'm not worried."
"I know."
"It'll be so much easier now, with all the rest of the Slayers working too. And the First won't be back soon. If ever."
"I know."
"The future's wide open, we can do anything, go anywhere-- it's going to be great. You'll see."
"I know."
"I just...."
"I know. I miss him, too."
Buffy closed her eyes and let Dawn be the one to run her fingers through her hair this time. She just listened to the ocean, and tried not to think at all.
***
Chris kikimariposa@prodigy.net
Buffy dreamed, but it wasn't a Slayer dream. No omens, no portents, nothing vaguely Destiny-ish showed up. Just a mix of the weird and the painful.
Her mom was making cocoa for Spike, and they were talking about the last episode of Passions. She couldn't hear the conversation very well, maybe because people kept tromping through the kitchen at random, walking off with orange juice and brownies, getting knives to sharpen stakes, saying hi to her mom and ignoring Buffy completely. Which was okay. She stayed in the corner of the room, and just watched them laughing together, feeling content.
Chloe wandered by, munching on a cookie, and finally stopped to ask her if it was time to train. Buffy nodded, not really paying attention because Spike had just winked at her. She turned back to Chloe and surprised a sober, quiet stare on the girl's face. "What?"
"Can I call my mom now?"
"Sure."
"Where's the phone?"
"Over there--" Buffy turned to point, and saw Spike put down his cup of hot chocolate and walk over to the back door, his hand on the doorknob. "Wait, Spike, no--"
Sunlight came blazing in, blinding her, and when she blinked it away, Chloe and Spike were gone, and her mom was shaking her head.
"You're forgetting, Buffy."
"What am I forgetting?"
Mom just *looked* at her, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world--
--and suddenly she was on a beach, a beach that she recognized, that she'd never been to in her life. A beach she'd still visited every night for four months, the summer she ran away.
She closed her eyes, refusing to look at the man sitting beside her, just listening to the birds and the crash of the waves.
"Won't work, pet."
"Yes, it will."
"Slayer--"
"It worked last time."
"You know better now. You know how the story ends."
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, and her voice came out thin and crushed. "I killed you."
"No, you didn't." His hands in hers felt real, solid and cool, this wasn't a dream, it wasn't, it wasn't--
"Open your eyes, Buffy."
And she did, she had to, because she couldn't resist his voice, that tone of love and mockery; but the last thing she wanted to see was Spike there, because that meant it was all over. Sitting on the sand next to her, holding her hand, smiling at her easily, no pain, no anger, no blame. Like Angel had, when he was in Hell.
He was so beautiful in sunlight.
"I'm sorry...."
"...sorry...."
The sound of her own voice woke her up, and she froze, listening. Dawn turned over on her bed, smacking her lips, but stayed fast asleep. The sunrise was just starting to peek through the curtains.
She dressed silently and tip-toed out,made her way downstairs and and through the lobby, waving at the desk clerk as she went by, and then turned for the beach as soon as she was out the door. She slogged across the sand to the edge of the water, then let her knees give way as the tears broke free at last.
It wasn't anything like her dream: no docks in sight, a harsher breeze, and a rockier shore. The marine layer was thick, the fog rolling in and obscuring the sun, nothing like the brilliant sunlight on Spike's hair that was so clear in her mind. But it was as good a place as any to lose it completely.
She cried for the girls who she hadn't been able to save, whose parents and families she'd have to call later today. Giles had offered, but it was her fault, so it was her job. Even for the ones whose names she couldn't remember. I'm sorry, your daughter was very brave, she helped save the world, she's lying at the bottom of a crater where the town used to be. I didn't teach her enough, I didn't say it right, I'm sorry I couldn't get her ready in time, it's not fair and I wish I could make it better and I know I can't. I wish it were different, I wish she'd never heard of us, I'm sorry. Anya, Amanda, Chao Ahn... I'm sorry.
She cried for her mom, and all of the pictures, possessions, letters, cards, every single memento that had gotten buried under a million tons of dirt and would never be found again. One picture, one photo of her and Dawn and Mom together, stuck in her purse, and that was it. Just like Tara's grave, and Anya's body, and every trace of what she'd done for the last seven years-- all gone. Like it had never happened. And she was *glad* the Hellmouth was closed, but that was a big chunk of her life that had just disappeared, and maybe the best parts were asleep in the hotel behind her, but she could miss it without anyone thinking she was crying about the mall, couldn't she?
And she cried for Spike. From relief (now I'll never have to kill him, thank you, whoever's in charge), vindication (I *knew* he was good, I knew he could help, I was right, I'm so proud of him), anger (Are you coming back in one hundred and forty-seven days? Are you going to make me wait longer, you bastard? Is this payback for jumping off the tower?), and grief (He believed me, I know he did, it wasn't a lie, no matter what he said, he said it so I'd leave... maybe we'd never have grandkids, but it was real then and it's real now and I want him back, I want him back, I want him back....)
Someone's arm went around her, and Buffy jolted back, almost falling over into the soft sand.
"Relax. I just brought you some Kleenex. Dorkhead." Dawn's tone was sarcastic but her hands were gentle as she dabbed at Buffy's tears, then put the tissue in her hand. "Blow."
She sniffed and blew her nose, wiping her face and feeling the puffiness starting around her eyes. "How'd you find me?"
"The hotel clerk pointed me this way. You weren't *that* hard to find." Dawn's eyes were tired, but not tear-swollen, and Buffy could only be grateful that her sister wasn't falling apart too.
"I guess it all just hit me, and I didn't want to wake you up."
"You have to quit leaving when you're upset. Remember how much it pissed me off when mom died, and you shut me out?"
She bit her lip, ashamed. It hadn't been the last time. Or even the last time she promised not to ditch Dawn again, and broken her promise. God, she never learned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, it snuck up on me..."
"Yeah. Well." Dawn looped an arm around her shoulders, and Buffy gave in to gravity and leaned against her, exhausted. "Someday you'll get that I won't let you leave, and I'll probably have a heart attack and die from shock. Until then? You're a dorkhead."
Laughing was beyond her, but Buffy managed a shaky smile. "We're gonna be okay, you know. I'm not worried."
"I know."
"It'll be so much easier now, with all the rest of the Slayers working too. And the First won't be back soon. If ever."
"I know."
"The future's wide open, we can do anything, go anywhere-- it's going to be great. You'll see."
"I know."
"I just...."
"I know. I miss him, too."
Buffy closed her eyes and let Dawn be the one to run her fingers through her hair this time. She just listened to the ocean, and tried not to think at all.
***
Chris kikimariposa@prodigy.net