Photographs
The crater that had been Sunnydale seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. Almost two years and still very little had started to grow on the land. There were a few brave shoots of grass and some weeds, but even those looked sickly, like the ground couldn't nourish them properly. As she stood gazing out across the vast expanse, it began to bulge in the middle, where the Hellmouth had been. She stared in fascination and horror as suddenly blood -- it couldn't be blood, could it? -- burst from the bulge and flowed toward her. Then Spike was there, as sexy and disturbing as ever, but without the cockiness. He was holding his arms out to her, beckoning, walking slowly toward her on the flowing blood. "Come, pet, come see how it ended. We did this together, you and I. Come see."
She reached toward him... oh, to be safe in his arms again. That night seemed so long ago. But she couldn't move her feet and he was fading. "Spike, wait. Don't go. I need you." He smiled gently and waited. She walked toward him sure she wouldn't get to him before he faded away as he had all the other times. Suddenly she was there, in his arms -- safe, content, whole.
Reluctantly, Buffy opened her eyes and found herself back in her room in Glenville. "No," she whimpered, "come back. I need you." And again she cried, this time for the loss of something she had dreamed was once more within her reach. Once the storm exhausted itself, she reached for her journal because this time it was different. This time she could remember all the details. They hadn't faded immediately. Maybe it was important. As she finished the entry, she found herself straining to capture the details of his face in her mind.
The dream was clear, but he wasn't anymore. Her memory of him was fading. This started the tears once again. Somehow it wasn't fair. There were no pictures, no mementos of Sunnydale. Nothing had survived. None of them had even imagined that all of Sunnydale would vanish, they hadn't taken the time to collect up the little physical reminders people take when they leave a place for the last time. They all thought that the survivors would be returning to the house and that everyone would come back to Sunnydale to pick up their lives where they had left off -- without the Hellmouth. They'd even talked, albeit jokingly, about going to the mall the next day.
Willow casually glanced in to say hello on her way down the hall, "Hey, Buff--" and paused at the door. "Buffy, what's wrong?" She came in and sat on the edge of the bed and gently held her as she cried.
"I can't remember," she sobbed.
"Can't remember what's wrong?" Willow was confused.
"No. I'm starting to forget him. Forget Spike. I can remember how amazingly blue his eyes were, but I can't quite remember the shape of the scar in his eyebrow. I can't remember how he looked at me. I can't remember--" She dissolved once again into tears.
Willow thought for a few seconds and then inspiration struck. "Oh, hey! I can fix that. Wow, finally something I can fix. Come out to the computer, Buffy. Come see what I can do." Willow drew her off the bed by the hand and out to the computer. Buffy sank into the chair next to her and stared off into space as Willow logged onto the internet and did a quick search. Suddenly, there he was. William the Bloody. Looking out of the screen at her, with that eyebrow cocked sardonically, head down a bit, eyes looking up. The clothes were different, and the hair, but she could see Spike.
"Now, let's see. If we--" Willow was mumbling under her breath as she imported the picture, opened a program to colorize it and started making changes. Buffy watched in stunned silence as HER Spike began to emerge. The platinum hair, change the style a little, ok a lot, the oh-so-intense blue eyes, even the leather duster. "There," Willow said, finally satisfied, and clicked print. She reached over to the printer, picked up the picture, looked at it for a moment, then passed it Buffy.
"It's perfect, Wil, thanks. It's--" She reached out and hugged Willow. "It's just perfect." She took the picture back to her room just to look at it for awhile and remember.
Willow smiled a little as she walked out to the workshop. Finally, she'd brought some joy to sad-Buffy. And it wasn't even all that hard. If only they could bring happy-Buffy back for good. "Hey, Xander. Guess what I did."
That night at dinner, there was a small package waiting at Buffy's place. "Present? For me? How come?"
Xander said, "Just open it. It goes with what Willow gave you this morning."
With a puzzled little wrinkle in her forehead, Buffy unwrapped the frame. It was made of rich, beautiful wood and trimmed in (what else) black leather. "Oh, Xander," she breathed, "It's gorgeous, perfect. Thank you. I'll just go put the picture in it. I'll be right back."
While she was gone, Willow turned to Xander, "Since when have you become all Spike-accepting? Did I miss something here?"
Dawn looked up. "Spike? What about Spike?"
Xander sheepishly looked at Willow. "I miss the way he made her smile and laugh. I even miss the way they used to fight. I guess I just miss the way he made her FEEL. She seems like she's sleepwalking most of the time these days. I figured if this helped, I'm more than willing to contribute. Sometimes, I even regret not giving him a chance. After all, if she could see so much in him, there must have been something, right?"
"If what helped? What are you guys talking about? Willow, what did you give Buffy? And what does it have to do with Spike?"
Willow smiled back at Xander. "It's about time you got with the program, Harris." Xander smiled wryly back.
"GUYS!!!"
Willow and Xander jumped at Dawn's yell just as Buffy walked back in the room carrying the now-framed picture. "Dawnie, what's the matter?"
"They won't tell me what's going on. What did Willow give you? What did Xander do that was perfect? What picture? And what does any of this have to do with Spike?"
Buffy silently handed the picture to Dawn. "Ohhhhhhhhh..... you're right. It's perfect." Tears came to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. There'd already been too many tears. She handed it back to Buffy. "I miss him, too." The sisters hugged and rocked each other for a moment, then broke apart and sat back in their respective places. "Will you print me one too, Wil?"
"Sure, Dawn. Right after dinner."
The crater that had been Sunnydale seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. Almost two years and still very little had started to grow on the land. There were a few brave shoots of grass and some weeds, but even those looked sickly, like the ground couldn't nourish them properly. As she stood gazing out across the vast expanse, it began to bulge in the middle, where the Hellmouth had been. She stared in fascination and horror as suddenly blood -- it couldn't be blood, could it? -- burst from the bulge and flowed toward her. Then Spike was there, as sexy and disturbing as ever, but without the cockiness. He was holding his arms out to her, beckoning, walking slowly toward her on the flowing blood. "Come, pet, come see how it ended. We did this together, you and I. Come see."
She reached toward him... oh, to be safe in his arms again. That night seemed so long ago. But she couldn't move her feet and he was fading. "Spike, wait. Don't go. I need you." He smiled gently and waited. She walked toward him sure she wouldn't get to him before he faded away as he had all the other times. Suddenly she was there, in his arms -- safe, content, whole.
Reluctantly, Buffy opened her eyes and found herself back in her room in Glenville. "No," she whimpered, "come back. I need you." And again she cried, this time for the loss of something she had dreamed was once more within her reach. Once the storm exhausted itself, she reached for her journal because this time it was different. This time she could remember all the details. They hadn't faded immediately. Maybe it was important. As she finished the entry, she found herself straining to capture the details of his face in her mind.
The dream was clear, but he wasn't anymore. Her memory of him was fading. This started the tears once again. Somehow it wasn't fair. There were no pictures, no mementos of Sunnydale. Nothing had survived. None of them had even imagined that all of Sunnydale would vanish, they hadn't taken the time to collect up the little physical reminders people take when they leave a place for the last time. They all thought that the survivors would be returning to the house and that everyone would come back to Sunnydale to pick up their lives where they had left off -- without the Hellmouth. They'd even talked, albeit jokingly, about going to the mall the next day.
Willow casually glanced in to say hello on her way down the hall, "Hey, Buff--" and paused at the door. "Buffy, what's wrong?" She came in and sat on the edge of the bed and gently held her as she cried.
"I can't remember," she sobbed.
"Can't remember what's wrong?" Willow was confused.
"No. I'm starting to forget him. Forget Spike. I can remember how amazingly blue his eyes were, but I can't quite remember the shape of the scar in his eyebrow. I can't remember how he looked at me. I can't remember--" She dissolved once again into tears.
Willow thought for a few seconds and then inspiration struck. "Oh, hey! I can fix that. Wow, finally something I can fix. Come out to the computer, Buffy. Come see what I can do." Willow drew her off the bed by the hand and out to the computer. Buffy sank into the chair next to her and stared off into space as Willow logged onto the internet and did a quick search. Suddenly, there he was. William the Bloody. Looking out of the screen at her, with that eyebrow cocked sardonically, head down a bit, eyes looking up. The clothes were different, and the hair, but she could see Spike.
"Now, let's see. If we--" Willow was mumbling under her breath as she imported the picture, opened a program to colorize it and started making changes. Buffy watched in stunned silence as HER Spike began to emerge. The platinum hair, change the style a little, ok a lot, the oh-so-intense blue eyes, even the leather duster. "There," Willow said, finally satisfied, and clicked print. She reached over to the printer, picked up the picture, looked at it for a moment, then passed it Buffy.
"It's perfect, Wil, thanks. It's--" She reached out and hugged Willow. "It's just perfect." She took the picture back to her room just to look at it for awhile and remember.
Willow smiled a little as she walked out to the workshop. Finally, she'd brought some joy to sad-Buffy. And it wasn't even all that hard. If only they could bring happy-Buffy back for good. "Hey, Xander. Guess what I did."
That night at dinner, there was a small package waiting at Buffy's place. "Present? For me? How come?"
Xander said, "Just open it. It goes with what Willow gave you this morning."
With a puzzled little wrinkle in her forehead, Buffy unwrapped the frame. It was made of rich, beautiful wood and trimmed in (what else) black leather. "Oh, Xander," she breathed, "It's gorgeous, perfect. Thank you. I'll just go put the picture in it. I'll be right back."
While she was gone, Willow turned to Xander, "Since when have you become all Spike-accepting? Did I miss something here?"
Dawn looked up. "Spike? What about Spike?"
Xander sheepishly looked at Willow. "I miss the way he made her smile and laugh. I even miss the way they used to fight. I guess I just miss the way he made her FEEL. She seems like she's sleepwalking most of the time these days. I figured if this helped, I'm more than willing to contribute. Sometimes, I even regret not giving him a chance. After all, if she could see so much in him, there must have been something, right?"
"If what helped? What are you guys talking about? Willow, what did you give Buffy? And what does it have to do with Spike?"
Willow smiled back at Xander. "It's about time you got with the program, Harris." Xander smiled wryly back.
"GUYS!!!"
Willow and Xander jumped at Dawn's yell just as Buffy walked back in the room carrying the now-framed picture. "Dawnie, what's the matter?"
"They won't tell me what's going on. What did Willow give you? What did Xander do that was perfect? What picture? And what does any of this have to do with Spike?"
Buffy silently handed the picture to Dawn. "Ohhhhhhhhh..... you're right. It's perfect." Tears came to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. There'd already been too many tears. She handed it back to Buffy. "I miss him, too." The sisters hugged and rocked each other for a moment, then broke apart and sat back in their respective places. "Will you print me one too, Wil?"
"Sure, Dawn. Right after dinner."