II. Buffy
Some nights, she still patrolled by herself. She didn't need to. Giles told her, the last day of Sunnydale. S-Day, they called it now. The man who would always be her watcher put a hand on each of her shoulders and blinked back tears as he said, "The slayer never has to be alone anymore."
And for a while she thought, great. Like old times. Me and Giles, Xander and Willow and Dawn. Plus a whole clubhouse of slayers and I don't have to be in charge. Of course, there was Faith. And Principal Wood, and Andrew, and the whole clubhouse of slayers, which wasn't always as great as it sounded. Anya was gone, that was especially hard for Xander. Angel was doing his own thing, Riley was Dark-Ops-Knew-Where, and she couldn't even bring herself to think about Spike. Or her mother.
Who was she kidding, it would never be old times? They were needed all over the world, and the people with the expertise had to split up, to lead everywhere. She bawled when she said good-bye to Willow, Xander, and Giles. But Willow set up what she called a CrystalLink -- like the best fiber optic technology, she boasted in her modest Willow way, only it didn't need a computer. Or fiber. Or optics. "Her best trick yet," beamed Kennedy, and with that light in the girl's eyes when she looked at Willow, Buffy could even begin to like her a little.
Now every day -- at rotating hours, since everyone was in a different time zone, and somebody deserved to sleep once in a while -- Giles and Xander and Willow and Buffy powered up a four-way link. Dawn or Kennedy would sometimes sit in, maybe even Andrew or Xander's new slayer-partner-and-maybe-more, an East Indian girl named Sameena, who had joined them a few weeks after the Hellmouth -- but everyone understood that it was about the four of them. They'd lost their way to each other before, and they all vowed it wouldn't happen again. Buffy always felt better after linking up with the others -- together, stronger. She gradually realized that it wasn't only their images and voices that Willow's CrystalLink channeled, but something in the energy of all of them. Once Buffy settled in Rome, there was Dawn of course. There were also other slayers, and a young, newly-minted watcher -- Alessandro -- who gave Dawn the giggles. Buffy never had to patrol alone.
But still. There were nights like this one when she missed it. Dawn was staying over with some friends from school, but Buffy told Alessandro she was staying home with Dawn. She told Dawn she was out working with Alessandro and his charge, Francesca. The lies gave Buffy a bit of a guilt pang. This was the same game she used to play between her mother and Giles. Shouldn't she be over it?
Of course, it worried her that something might happen to her and leave Dawn alone. But not that much. She had fought alone for years, and for all she knew, depending on others to watch her back might be making her soft. *And besides, love, you're never alone.* She tried hearing the voice in her ear, where it had rung for months after she watched Spike, and Sunnydale, dissolve. But the truth was that it had left her. She had worked through some things, convinced herself that she had come to rely on him too much. In the last months before S-Day, she had shut everyone else out and leaned too completely on the one whose devotion she could count on. However stupid that might be, Spike was devoted. In the end, it turned out she'd been right to stand by him, but was she justified or just lucky? Whatever it had been -- love, need, dependence -- that chapter in her life was over.
Which was why she didn't need to be thinking about it, at that particular moment, as it was interfering, just slightly, with her ability to wail on this vampire. "Just one of you?" he sneered, flipping off the wall of the tomb, down into the catacomb. "I thought slayers were hunting in packs these days."
"Not one," Buffy corrected, "The. I'm the only real game in town." Or that was what she thought they were saying. She'd been working through a course on audio tape, but her Italian was still rusty. She kicked a stone toward him and flipped out of the way.
"What?" The vamp suddenly stopped, and switched into English. "Stupid tourist slayers. You just said something about your uncle needing new cheese."
"No, it was -- my brother. A cow. Maybe I -- and where do you come off whining about tourists? Do you know how much the economy of this country? Oh, never mind." She raised her stake to aim at the snooty vamp's heart, and it had barely left her hand, when he dissolved to dust.
"Heh." Buffy rubbed her hands together. "Parlais-vous that. Or -- come se? Hablo? Crap." She stepped forward to retrieve the stake and frowned. Her throw seemed to have come slightly wide of the mark, and in the middle of the dustpile rested a long wooden pole she had never seen before. Her spine tingled and she straightened. "Alessandro? Francie? Look, I'm sorry I went off on my own but --" She turned and saw a tall figure in a trench coat, silhouetted in the entrance of the tomb.
Said the familiar voice: "Hello, cutie."
III. Spike
Buffy stiffened and raised her stake. "Nice try."
"Nice try?" Spike repeated. He had imagined a lot of possible receptions, but not that one. "Hey now, I got him with one throw and -- from way across here and -- I know you're not big on the damsel-saving bit, but I wasn't thinking you needed my help, just a bit of fun --" He started toward her, and she feinted at him with the stake. Spike backed up and raised his hands. "Buffy? Come on, Buffy, it's me."
"And who is that? You're not the First, or you wouldn't have been able to throw that stake, but what? A doppleganger? A robot? Somebody screwing with my mind because, I don't know, it's fun?"
"Buffy --" He moved into a shaft of moonlight that leaked through the tomb's crumbling roof. "Don't you know me?" In the excitement of the kill, his face had shifted into its vampire form. He shook his head and let it dissolve into his human features. "It's Spike."
"Spike," she spit out, "Is dead." But her head tilted to look at him, showing the slightest bit of what he wanted to take for hope.
"Honestly, love --" Suddenly, uncontrollably, he started to laugh. "Honestly, so are you. But us heroic, world-saving martyr types have a little habit of not staying that way."
"No." She kept the stake out, but moved cautiously toward him. "No. Spike's gone. He's dead. I buried that. Him. I --" He raised his arms and spread them, as if to let her frisk him. She touched the point of the stake to his chest, and he stayed frozen as she raised a hand to explore his face. "Spike," she whispered, and her voice shook as she said, "Prove it."
No music swelled behind this kiss, but she tasted none the worse for that, or for all the time that had passed.
Some nights, she still patrolled by herself. She didn't need to. Giles told her, the last day of Sunnydale. S-Day, they called it now. The man who would always be her watcher put a hand on each of her shoulders and blinked back tears as he said, "The slayer never has to be alone anymore."
And for a while she thought, great. Like old times. Me and Giles, Xander and Willow and Dawn. Plus a whole clubhouse of slayers and I don't have to be in charge. Of course, there was Faith. And Principal Wood, and Andrew, and the whole clubhouse of slayers, which wasn't always as great as it sounded. Anya was gone, that was especially hard for Xander. Angel was doing his own thing, Riley was Dark-Ops-Knew-Where, and she couldn't even bring herself to think about Spike. Or her mother.
Who was she kidding, it would never be old times? They were needed all over the world, and the people with the expertise had to split up, to lead everywhere. She bawled when she said good-bye to Willow, Xander, and Giles. But Willow set up what she called a CrystalLink -- like the best fiber optic technology, she boasted in her modest Willow way, only it didn't need a computer. Or fiber. Or optics. "Her best trick yet," beamed Kennedy, and with that light in the girl's eyes when she looked at Willow, Buffy could even begin to like her a little.
Now every day -- at rotating hours, since everyone was in a different time zone, and somebody deserved to sleep once in a while -- Giles and Xander and Willow and Buffy powered up a four-way link. Dawn or Kennedy would sometimes sit in, maybe even Andrew or Xander's new slayer-partner-and-maybe-more, an East Indian girl named Sameena, who had joined them a few weeks after the Hellmouth -- but everyone understood that it was about the four of them. They'd lost their way to each other before, and they all vowed it wouldn't happen again. Buffy always felt better after linking up with the others -- together, stronger. She gradually realized that it wasn't only their images and voices that Willow's CrystalLink channeled, but something in the energy of all of them. Once Buffy settled in Rome, there was Dawn of course. There were also other slayers, and a young, newly-minted watcher -- Alessandro -- who gave Dawn the giggles. Buffy never had to patrol alone.
But still. There were nights like this one when she missed it. Dawn was staying over with some friends from school, but Buffy told Alessandro she was staying home with Dawn. She told Dawn she was out working with Alessandro and his charge, Francesca. The lies gave Buffy a bit of a guilt pang. This was the same game she used to play between her mother and Giles. Shouldn't she be over it?
Of course, it worried her that something might happen to her and leave Dawn alone. But not that much. She had fought alone for years, and for all she knew, depending on others to watch her back might be making her soft. *And besides, love, you're never alone.* She tried hearing the voice in her ear, where it had rung for months after she watched Spike, and Sunnydale, dissolve. But the truth was that it had left her. She had worked through some things, convinced herself that she had come to rely on him too much. In the last months before S-Day, she had shut everyone else out and leaned too completely on the one whose devotion she could count on. However stupid that might be, Spike was devoted. In the end, it turned out she'd been right to stand by him, but was she justified or just lucky? Whatever it had been -- love, need, dependence -- that chapter in her life was over.
Which was why she didn't need to be thinking about it, at that particular moment, as it was interfering, just slightly, with her ability to wail on this vampire. "Just one of you?" he sneered, flipping off the wall of the tomb, down into the catacomb. "I thought slayers were hunting in packs these days."
"Not one," Buffy corrected, "The. I'm the only real game in town." Or that was what she thought they were saying. She'd been working through a course on audio tape, but her Italian was still rusty. She kicked a stone toward him and flipped out of the way.
"What?" The vamp suddenly stopped, and switched into English. "Stupid tourist slayers. You just said something about your uncle needing new cheese."
"No, it was -- my brother. A cow. Maybe I -- and where do you come off whining about tourists? Do you know how much the economy of this country? Oh, never mind." She raised her stake to aim at the snooty vamp's heart, and it had barely left her hand, when he dissolved to dust.
"Heh." Buffy rubbed her hands together. "Parlais-vous that. Or -- come se? Hablo? Crap." She stepped forward to retrieve the stake and frowned. Her throw seemed to have come slightly wide of the mark, and in the middle of the dustpile rested a long wooden pole she had never seen before. Her spine tingled and she straightened. "Alessandro? Francie? Look, I'm sorry I went off on my own but --" She turned and saw a tall figure in a trench coat, silhouetted in the entrance of the tomb.
Said the familiar voice: "Hello, cutie."
III. Spike
Buffy stiffened and raised her stake. "Nice try."
"Nice try?" Spike repeated. He had imagined a lot of possible receptions, but not that one. "Hey now, I got him with one throw and -- from way across here and -- I know you're not big on the damsel-saving bit, but I wasn't thinking you needed my help, just a bit of fun --" He started toward her, and she feinted at him with the stake. Spike backed up and raised his hands. "Buffy? Come on, Buffy, it's me."
"And who is that? You're not the First, or you wouldn't have been able to throw that stake, but what? A doppleganger? A robot? Somebody screwing with my mind because, I don't know, it's fun?"
"Buffy --" He moved into a shaft of moonlight that leaked through the tomb's crumbling roof. "Don't you know me?" In the excitement of the kill, his face had shifted into its vampire form. He shook his head and let it dissolve into his human features. "It's Spike."
"Spike," she spit out, "Is dead." But her head tilted to look at him, showing the slightest bit of what he wanted to take for hope.
"Honestly, love --" Suddenly, uncontrollably, he started to laugh. "Honestly, so are you. But us heroic, world-saving martyr types have a little habit of not staying that way."
"No." She kept the stake out, but moved cautiously toward him. "No. Spike's gone. He's dead. I buried that. Him. I --" He raised his arms and spread them, as if to let her frisk him. She touched the point of the stake to his chest, and he stayed frozen as she raised a hand to explore his face. "Spike," she whispered, and her voice shook as she said, "Prove it."
No music swelled behind this kiss, but she tasted none the worse for that, or for all the time that had passed.