Title: Dead Moments
Summary: Buffy dies in the arms of her lover. Darkish.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters etc. belong to Joss Whedon and yada yada yada.
Warning: Character death.
Dead Moments
It was over so quickly that he wasn't really sure what happened. She was at his side, swinging the beautiful sword towards the hideous body, confident in her aim. And then the blade sliced empty air, and her cry echoed through his mind over and over as she fell silently to the ground. The gaping wound in her stomach bled crimson onto the grass.
He watched as her life ebbed away. He didn't see the demon flee into the night. He only saw her, dying, and wondered whether this was a dream. When would he wake up?
She never lost; she never let herself be hurt this way; she never died without saving the world. This wasn't meant to be happening. But she would die whether it was supposed to happen or not. She was dying, and he was powerless to stop it. A ragged sob escaped his lips and he bowed his head; maybe it was an attempt to look away from her, or maybe it was meant to hide his tears. She was his love, his life. She was the one thing that held him on this path. They had been through the best and worst times, always struggling but always winning. It couldn't be over like this. Shouldn't be over like this.
She deserved better.
She coughed, and blood trickled down her lips. Her head fell back and her eyes focused on him. He could see they were glazed, and he knew they weren't really seeing him. The hazel depths looked at him, but they did not see him. He remembered the first time she had looked at him, really looked at him. His world was slanted, shaded in areas of grey and black and white, but when she had looked at him everything seemed clear. Everything seemed so damned obvious. All the days of feeling worthless, being worthless, were erased with that one glance.
He had done everything for her. He had changed for her, and become a better man for her. He fought for her, always fighting in her name, for her honour, and only wanting her to see how much he tried.
And then he heard the softest whisper, a mere breath of sound.
"Angel?"
His heart constricted, and he slowly lifted his head and looked at her face, searching the pain-ridden depths of her eyes. They rolled back into her head, and her eyelids fluttered open and shut. Everything was dark for her now. He fell to his knees beside her trembling body and reached out to wipe the blood from her mouth. His fingers gently stroked her cheek, touching the sharp curve of her cheekbones. Blonde strands of hair stuck to her forehead, matted with blood and dirt, and he pushed them back. His touch moved further down to her chin and he cupped it lightly, tilting her head so she could see him better.
He hesitated for a moment before nodding. It was only a slight pause in time, but enough for him to feel the sharp stabbing in his chest.
"Yes, Buffy. I'm here."
Her breathing was coming in short gasps, and her hands clutched at empty air. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, and with his other arm he gathered her to his body and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. He had wanted to do this for so many years- to simply hold her to him, and rock her gently, soothingly. To hold her and let everything else drift away. He could barely remember the last time he had touched her so intimately. It had been so long since he felt her skin, since he stroked her as if she were his. As if she belonged to him.
The tiny body in his arms suddenly burned, and his grip tightened. He started to talk to her. He spoke of the first time they met, of all the things they had been through together. He told her things he'd never had a chance to, of all the things he wanted to apologise for. He asked her questions she would never answer and told her jokes she would never laugh at. But her body just continued to shiver and the heat slowly drained away. Her skin felt clammy and cold.
He fell silent, and she moved her head slightly. When he pulled away he saw her staring at him, her perfect lips quivering and her wide eyes searching his face frantically, as though trying to memorise his face. He did not move his gaze from her eyes, wanting to remember every tiny speck of green and fleck of hazel. They held that gaze and all he could see was her love looking back at him. She was opening herself to him, allowing him to see things she'd kept hidden for so long. He soaked it all up and knew the seconds were ticking by, the minutes flying past.
It wouldn't be long now.
She suddenly gasped and arched her back, and he struggled to keep his arms around her. He called her name, saying that it would be alright, that everything would be okay, that she could rest in a few moments, and just to hang on, to fight and struggle just a little longer because it would all be over soon. She writhed in his arms and he saw the tears in her eyes, the tears streaming down her face. She was in pain, and all he wanted to do was to take that pain away from her. He would have given anything to give her peace and to take away the pain.
And then she stopped moving and gazed into his face.
"Angel…" The name was soft and barely audible. He nodded again, and again his chest constricted until he was sure his heart and ribs were no longer there.
"I'm still here, Buffy. I'm always here."
She jerked again, but her movements no longer held the fire they once had. She was weak now.
"I...I love-" She stopped to draw in breath, and the words wouldn't come.
He felt something cool touch his cheek and knew he was crying. He rested his cheek on her forehead.
"I know, Buffy," he murmured into her hair. "And I'll always love you. Always."
Then she slumped against him, and was still.
He lowered her back to the ground, and glanced at her peaceful face. He had not saved her, but he had given her peace. Given her closure. Given her comfort. That was something he'd never given her before. It had always been about pain and fire and passion. It had been about them, two people who could never get it right and could never be together. And now she was gone, and he was left with the echo of her voice saying she love someone else.
Spike rose to his feet, his heart bitter and black, and walked away from the still body of the woman he had loved.
The End
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