Spike heard the portal close above him and the silence echoed through his head. Then something hit the ground below him. Something that could only be a body. A part of him faltered, certain of what he would see if he looked, but he pushed on none the less. As he reached the top, relief flooded though him. There stood Dawn with her back to him. She was wearing an awful dress but it was her.

"Dawn!" He called, reaching for her.

As she turned, he took in the still bleeding cuts on her stomach and the tears that ran down her face. Then Spike saw the bite mark on his sisters neck.

Oh god.

He ran to the edge and peered over. And there she was. Buffy was splayed out beneath them. Spike looked up at the rising sun and grabbed Dawn's hand, helping her climb down as quickly as they could. He ran ahead when they were almost down.

His friends stood around her, watching as the sunlight reached her feet and they began to smoulder. He reached her, desperately pulling her into the shadow with him.

"Buffy." He cradled her in his arms.

Her head hung limply and as he moved her, he felt the sickening shift of her shattered bones. Tears blurred his vision as he took in her still, pale form.

"Buffy." He called again, choking through his tears. "Wake up. Please, wake up."

"Spike." He felt Giles's hand on his shoulder. "No one could have survived that. The mystical energy..."

But he felt it. Deep in his bones. He didn't need Giles to tell him. Buffy wasn't in there anymore. But he couldn't believe it. Buffy was strong. If anyone could survive it was her.

"But she's still here." Spike cried, looking down at her empty body. "She's not... dust."

Dawn let out a sob behind him. He looked round at her, Dawn's face matching his own devastated features. She clutched at her stomach with one hand as the other covered her mouth.

"She's... It's just a shell." Giles spoke again. "We should just leave-"

"We are not leaving her here to dust!" Spike shouted.

He laid her down gently. Spike looked around and spotted a bit of tarpauling big enough. He laid it next to her and slid Buffy's body on to it. Spike felt his throat clench as he covered her face. He tucked it round her tightly, making sure no sunlight could touch her.

The others just watched him with sad, silent faces. Xander held a woozy looking Anya in his arms. Willow and Tara clung to each other. Giles gaped at him, a sword hung loosely at his side. Spike pulled Buffy into his arms again and stood up. He glanced at Dawn and she gave him a tear filled nod.

"Will, can you take Dawn home?"

The witch nodded and pulled Dawn under her other arm. Spike turned from them then and started his long walk through the dawn light.

He paused when he reached Buffy's crypt. He pushed the door open and stepped inside with his bundle. He laid her on the sarcophagus and carefully unwrapped her.

He had never seen Buffy so still. She was always pacing or smoking. Even when she sat her knee would jump up and down like she was filled with energy. And she breathed. Buffy always breathed. He'd asked her once. She'd said it was a habit she'd never kicked.

Now she lay perfectly motionless. Spike watched her, imagining her taking a breath, opening her eyes. But she stayed stubbornly still. It wasn't going to happen, he realised. Buffy was really gone.

The tears welled up in his eyes again and he let them fall. Spike's knees went out from under him and he knelt there, unable to take his eyes from her face. It just seemed so unreal. He'd known he might lose someone that night. Dawn, Xander, Willow. Maybe even his own life. But not Buffy.

When the tears finally stopped, Spike pulled himself to his feet. Buffy was dirty with brick dust, cut and bloody from the battle. Her top was torn and the bottoms of her trousers were singed. He couldn't leave her like that.

Reluctantly turning away from her, Spike searched for a bowl, a flannel and water. There were three bowls, three plates and an assortment of ceramic mugs in a cupboard under the work top the microwave sat on. There was no sink but there was bottled water in the fridge.

To find a flannel, Spike would have to go downstairs. He'd been down there three or four times. Always with Buffy. He'd never thought about it but it was her bedroom down there.

He looked down at the stone he knew the covered the entrance. He felt like he was invading her privacy. Spike sighed, lifted the cover stone and jumped down. There were no candles lit so Spike was plunged into the pitch black. He stumbled over to were he'd seen a box of matches on his last visit.

Eventually he found them and lit the candles on the chest of drawers.

He opened the top draw and found underwear. Spike quickly shut it. Pulling the others open, he search for a towel, a flannel... Anything. When he found what he was looking for, Spike climbed back up the ladder.

Buffy's presence filled the room. Her stillness echoed the silence of the cold, stone walls. He approached her slowly, emptied the water into the bowl and dipped the tip of the flannel in.

"Hi, pet. Just gonna give you a bit of a clean up." Spike told her as he wiped the flannel across her forehead.

He pushed her hair back with his other hand.

The silence seemed to fill his head as he washed away the blood and grime from her face. He had to say something, anything. The silence was killing him.

"You did it." He whispered. "You protected Dawn. Like you promised. Saved the whole world."

He brushed the hair away from her neck, watching the cloth run over the smooth lines of her throat. The water beside him tinged a rusty red but he didn't notice.

"Why did you have to go and do a thing like that?" He asked, tears welling up again.

Then he began to wash he hair, having to go through two more water bottles. When he finished, Spike looked down at the rest of her.

"You wait one minute. I'll get you something nice to wear." He told her as he jumped back down the hole.

When Spike opened her draw he wasn't sure what to pick. Eventually he found a black peasant blouse and some loose fitting slacks. Spike had seen her pair the two items before. He laid them on the armchair when he returned.

Spike told her what he'd picked.

"I always liked this top. You was wearing it when we got engaged. Do you remember that? " Carefully Spike lifted her and slipped the torn shirt over her head. "We were so goofy it was ridiculous."

Picking up the flannel, he ran it down her arms. She'd been stabbed in the gut and Spike spent extra time wiping the crusted blood from around the open wound. He worked around her bra, unwilling to remove it.

"I always wondered what made you say the things you did." He continued. "You were so nice and sweet. Stepping up to help Giles. The naughty things you whispered in my ear. Was it real? Was it you?"

Because it was real for him. If they had been really in love and just engaged he would have said all those things. Maybe he would have been a little more focused on the gang but that was it.

"Always wondered if there was another side to you that you were hiding." Spike put the flannel in the bowl and turned to pick up the blouse.

"Not that I blame you." He pulled the top over her head and slipped her arms in. "We were awful. Not that you were any better."

He hesitated looking at her trouser button. He moved and pulled off her shoes, putting them down next to him. Steeling himself he popped them open and shimmied her trousers down her legs.

"You really changed though. I saw it. You really looked after Dawn. You saved her." Spike choked on his words.

His vision blurred but he carried on. He slipped the slacks up her legs, ignoring the odd movement of her knee. He doubted the joint was connected at all inside her body. He picked up her shoes once more and gave them a clean before slipping them back on her feet. He moved her arms from her side to rest on her diaphragm. If he didn't know better he'd have said she was sleeping.

Spike didn't want to leave her there but he knew he had too. He'd been too long already. Dawn needed him. He walked back to the house in a daze. He climbed the steps, beginning to feel his body tiring.

The witches and Dawn were waiting for him in the living room. Looking at the time he saw it was nine o'clock in the morning. He was surprised they'd made it this long. Dawn got up and threw herself into his arms. He wanted to hug her with all his might but he couldn't, not without breaking her ribs.

Willow and Tara sleepily got to their feet and made their way over.

"You okay?" He asked Tara, who gave him a warm smile and a nod. "You two can sleep in mum's room. Save you going all the way home."

"Thanks." Willow gave him a hug before stumbling up the stairs with Tara in tow.

"You should go up too, Dawn." Spike sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"What are we going to do? With..." Dawn rubbed across her bandaged stomach. "With Buffy?"

Spike hadn't thought about it. They couldn't just leave her there. He didn't like to think of her home becoming her grave.

"We'll bury her." Spike said. "Tonight."

Dawn nodded and headed up to bed. Spike tiredly went through his nightly routine. Ever since his mother had died he'd been doing it. Spike walked the perimeter of the house, checking windows and making sure the doors were locked. When he got up every morning he'd unlock the back door in case Buffy decided on a daytime visit. He'd pretended to be annoyed but had secretly enjoyed them.

He wondered if she'd known that.

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The funeral was hard.

Spike had called Giles when he got up to asked about burying her. Giles had made spluttering noises but agreed to call a grounds keeper he had dealings with. He called him back to say a plot was being dug and Giles had found a cheap but tasteful coffin. Spike thanked him.

He asked Dawn if she thought he should call Dru. She was the only family Buffy had that wouldn't kill them all. Dawn had snorted and said Buffy wouldn't want that bitch anywhere near her. Spike had had to agree. And he didn't want Dru's judgement for caring about Buffy. Because he did. He cared.

He called Xander. Anya was out of the hospital but she had a concision. Still they said they would come.

Spike met everyone there. First he went to get Buffy. She was exactly were he'd left her.

He appeared once the sun had set, carrying her in his arms with every care. The coffin was already laid out over the hole and he knelt down to gently put her in. It was nice, dark wood with cream material on the inside. If anyone noticed Buffy's outfit change, no one said anything. He brushed his hands through her golden hair. He wished he'd gotten her some flowers. He didn't even know what flowers she liked.

No one said anything. Spike hated that. But he didn't know what to say. They all just looked at her as she lay in the coffin. Dawn tucked herself under his arm, sniffling into his side.

"Buffy..." Spike started but his voice faltered. Clearing his throat he began again. "Buffy was a vampire."

The Scoobies eyes turned to him.

"She didn't have soul." He paused looking down at her pale features. "But she... She saved the world anyway. She gave her life for save us. And I'll never forget it."

He was crying again. Spike turned, burying his face in Dawn's hair. The sobs wracked their bodies as Giles quietly closed the lid. Xander and Giles slowly lowered her into the ground and begun to shovel the dirt on top. Eventually the witches pulled them away and Spike let them.

He was sitting in his room when Dawn came in and sat next to him. She'd changed into her pyjamas but Spike was still in his black suit. His tie was dangling between his hands. They sat in silence together for a while, comforted by the others presence.

When Dawn started nervously rubbing her hands, Spike turned to her.

"What's up?" He asked frowning at her tense face.

"I've got to tell you something but I don't know if I should wait."

"What is it, Dawnie?" He tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Buffy... She asked me to tell you something." Spike froze.

"What?" His mouth went dry.

Dawn looked up at.

"Buffy said she had to jump. That you would, if she didn't and I need you. The world needs you. And..." Tears welled up in her eyes. "She told me... Buffy loved you."

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Dawn had cried for a week straight.

William had told the school that a friend of the family had died and that she wasn't taking it well. She had missed two exams with the running and the days after when she couldn't even think about leaving the house. Plus all the time she'd missed skipping school. So it was summer school or retaking the year which she was so not doing.

It had been about a month and a half since Buffy's leap from the tower. William kept staring off into space on occasion and Dawn knew he was thinking of Buffy. She was pretty sure she heard him crying sometimes when she woke up in the morning. And she was pretty sure he was patrolling longer than he usually did.

Instead of going home after school, Dawn walked to Restfield cemetery.

She pushed the door open slowly, ready to jump back and run if something had moved into what Buffy had once called 'prime Hellmouth real estate'. It was thankfully empty. Dawn closed the door behind her and walked slowly round to sit on the slightly beat up couch.

There was a thin layer of dust on everything. Dawn couldn't imagine Buffy dusting but she must have. It echoed with that unlived in feel. Like it might have been haunted.

After a while she got up and pulled the cover stone away. She dumped her bag next to the hole and dug around for the flashlight she'd put in there that morning. Turning it on, she climbed down the ladder. There were two chest of drawers, a large desk and a wrought iron bed with black silk sheets. The candles on one of the drawers had melted down, covering it's surface with wax. The bed was unmade.

Dawn let the flashlight shine over the opening that led to the caves Buffy had taken her to explore.

She missed her. Missed the smell of her cigarette smoke. Missed the way she talked to her like a grown up. Missed her jokes. Missed her I'm a Big Bad, don't mess with me vibe.

And now all that was left was Buffy's grave and her stuff. William had gotten a grave stone commissioned. It read Buffy, she saved the world. They'd visited it together when it was done. Dawn didn't like looking at her single name. It felt wrong. That they, the closest people to her, didn't know her last name.

"Is it not even in the Watcher's diaries?" She'd implored.

"The Watchers had her whole bloody story wrong, Dawnie." Then he'd put an arm around her. "And I don't know if... Buffy was even her real name."

Dawn's breath had hitched. To think she hadn't even known her real name. It hurt. But then Dawn had told herself that Buffy was probably the name she'd chosen. And it was her real name. Just not her birth name. Dawn had wondered if she had another grave somewhere, baring her human name, in England.

Dawn lit a few remaining candles and turned out her light. She circled the room, reaching out to run her fingers over the edges of the drawers. She opened one, then another finding clothes. The bottom draw had towels and other toiletries in it. Moving on to the other, Dawn hesitated when she opened it.

Inside were books and a jewellery box. The box was old, probably older than Buffy had been. Dawn lifted the fragile golden latch and opened it. A tinkling melody filled the room. The box had a few modern looking necklaces and rings but it also had some rings and a gold locket that were obviously not. Gently unclasping it, Dawn stared at the unfamiliar faces that sat inside. The pictures were black and white and slightly warn. A man and a woman in their late thirties wearing Victorian dress. Buffy's parents maybe?

Putting it back, she closed the jewellery box and sank the crypt into silence once more. She picked up the book next to it. It had a plain black leather cover with boxed and worn edges. Some of the other books below it looked to be in worse condition. Inside it was lined and Buffy's swirling cursive sat across the first page. It read:

1882-1885

Rewritten.

Dawn supposed the first copy had fallen apart. It was Buffy's diary. Turning the page she read the first lines.

Drusilla found my diaries. Mister Gordo too. She burned them while Angelus held me down. I do love him. He saved me from my pitiful existence. Gave me power I could never have imagined. But I hate how that woman can get in his mind, turn him against me at any moment.

But now I know better. I know to be careful. The bitch can think she's beaten me into submission but she hasn't. She won't. I won't let her. My demon rattles my insides for retribution but I pull it in. Hold it back. One day I'll be able to take her in a fight. And then we'll see who comes out on top.

Dawn flicked on, picking up a year later.

Another stupid mob came after us. Of course Drusilla thinks it's all my fault. I can't be blamed for getting bored. She was yammering on again about her masterwork. I just can't stand to listen to her go on about my sweet Angelus that way. All the things she'd done to him with Darla sitting there, lapping up the good old days. Some poor girl quivering between them in chains.

It was enough to drive me insane.

So I went out looking for a fight. I'm better with every battle. To feel the energy flow through me. Watching my enemies body, predicting his moves. Fists and Fangs. There's no other rush like it. Well, a few.

I'd gone looking for a demon pub. A good fight has got to be a challenge, after all. But then the local colour had shown up looking for a good time. Drusilla or Darla might have gave them come hither eyes and led them to some dark alley to kill them. I, on the other hand, told them not too kindly that they'd picked the wrong girl.

A couple of severed limbs later and the whole towns folk are coming down on my head. I'd tried to lead them away from Angelus but I ended up running right into him and then we were running for our lives. He'd insisted we go back for the others, load of good that did.

Was one good thing that came out of it. While Drusilla was telling me off and trying to scare me, she let something slip. There is something out there called a Slayer. Some magically powered human chosen to hunt and kill our kind. At first I thought it was some myth, a bogeyman to scare fledges into doing what they're told. Next demon pub I found I asked around.

I spoke to a vampire who'd seen one in action and lived to tell the tale. The Slayer had taken out his whole nest over a hundred years ago. And it was the. There is only ever one at a time. The one at the moment is in the Americas somewhere and I have no intension of going back. I'll just have to wait till one pops up on the continent.

Dawn put the book back in the draw. She lifted a few of the others, peaking inside at the dates. She wrote in them slightly less as time went on, the periods a diary would cover getting longer. None was more than fifteen years though. The last one went up till 1999 and Dawn wondered where the most recent one was.

Dawn kept her diary under her mattress so she went to check. It was there. Inside the front cover read:

2000-

She moved one of the candles and laid down on Buffy's bed. These were Buffy last years. It hit here again suddenly that Buffy would never write another word, never see another day. Dawn was crying like that first night when the door above her slammed open and her very panicked brother began shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Dawn!"

"Down here." She answered rubbing her puffy, red eyes.

He'd jumped down and was sitting on the bed next to her in the blink of an eye.

"I've been looking everywhere for you. Why didn't you tell me? I would've..." William stopped as he took in the room before mumbling. "Would have come with you."

Dawn hadn't wanted to ask him. He visibly flinched if she mentioned her. He never said Buffy's name anymore. She wasn't sure he was ready to come back to the crypt.

"I'm sorry." And the tears rose in the eyes again.

He made shushing noises and pulled her into his arms. Dawn clasped the diary to her chest and wrapped her other arm around him.

"What you got there?" He asked looking down at the book she held to her chest.

"Buffy kept a diary." She looked down at its dark leather cover. "Do you think that's where I got it?"

Dawn had always kept a diary. She didn't remember when she started and now she'd never know because she had burnt most of them. She still had the one for the past year though and really that was all that mattered. Those were the real memories.

"Did you... Have you read any yet?" William stuttered.

"A few pages in one of the others." She nodded.

"Others?"

She pointed to the chest of drawers. "Top draw."

She watched from her place on the bed as he tentatively approached and opened the top draw. His fingers brushed the carved top of the jewellery box.

"There's a lot in here." He whispered.

"Twenty one." She had counted.

William nodded but didn't pick anything up. His eyes seemed to flicker up to the mass of melted candles on the other chest of drawers. He slid the draw shut and glanced up at the living room above them.

"Are you ready to make a move?" He asked when he turned back to her. "Or... We can stay longer if you want."

"We can't just leave all her stuff here!" Dawn exclaimed the tears rising once more.

Dawn couldn't bare to think of some demon finding it all. Ripping up Buffy's diaries or taking her jewellery.

"Okay Dawnie. We'll come back in the morning and box it up, yeah?"

She could tell his thoughts were the same as hers when he looked around. They were lucky Buffy's stuff was still here. Still, Dawn nodded.

Holding Buffy's last diary to her chest, they left the crypt and headed for home. They ate dinner in relative silence with only a few words between them. Dawn went up to bed after and did some homework. William called out that he was going on patrol.

When she opened Buffy's diary again she was tucked up in bed. The first line read:

I have a good feeling about Prague.

Dawn started to laugh but it came out a choked cry and she had to put the book down again.

When she woke, Dawn struggled to open her eyes, they were so puffy. She spent a few minutes looking at the leather-bound book on her bedside cabinet.

She rubbed her eyes again before sitting up suddenly. The house was silent. Dawn looked at her clock. It said ten am so William should have been up and moving about in the kitchen. She got up and knocked on his bedroom door. When she got no answer she peeked in. His bed was unslept in.

The house was empty.

Panic began to rise in her throat. William hadn't come home last night. Pushing it down Dawn walked to the phone and picked it up to call Giles. She'd dialled the first three numbers when there was a knock on the back door.

"Who is it?" She called out, dialling the next three.

She heard mumbling on the other side of the door. Then a familiar 'bloody hell' sounded followed by a bump. Dawn flew to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open. She immediately jumped back.

On the other side of the door was a demon. He was taller than her with the baggiest skin she'd ever seen. He had two teeth protruding from his bottom jaw and clawed hands. And he was the only thing holding her brother up.

"I'ss okay Daawn. T'is iss Clem." He slurred.

Clem gave her a smile and a wave. William lurched into the house and only just caught himself before he face planted the floor.

"Are you drunk?" Dawn asked taking another step back from her brother.

As William righted himself he gulped. Tears filled his eyes.

"You look like her sometimes, you know." Then he was sobbing in earnest.

Clem stepped into the kitchen and put an arm around William's back.

"Come on. To bed with you." Clem pointed through the house.

Dawn nodded and watched her brother stumble up the stairs sobbing his eyes out with the demon holding him up. She'd never seen him like that. Not even after the funeral. A few minutes later, Clem came back down to find her waiting at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed over her chest. He looked a little sheepish.

"Dawn, right?" He offered her a clawed hand. "She talked about you sometimes."

Dawn didn't need to ask who. She shook his hand in half a daze.

"You knew Buffy?" She asked fighting back tears.

Clem nodded and gave her a sad smile. She looked past him up the stairs. "And William too?"

The floppy skinned demon frowned before pointing over his shoulder up the stairs.

"Oh, The Slayer. Yeah. She introduced us. Looking for info one night."

Some training her mother had instilled made her lead her guest back to the kitchen and offer him a 7up. He took it and filled her in on her brother's nightly movements.

William had gone out looking for a fight, ending up at Willy's and taking out his most violent clientele. Then he'd bumped into Clem. The poor demon hadn't know she was gone. He'd thought nothing of it when he didn't see her at poker night.

"You know immortals, drop out of your life and stroll back years later like nothings changed." Clem had shrugged. "They forget how us mere mortals view time."

Her brother and the demon had gone back to Clem's.

"I thought The Slayer would be able to hold his liquor. Being somewhat more than human."

But it sounded like Spike had wanted to get sloshed. Clem said he had talked about Buffy. And cried alot.

"We were going to box up her stuff today. Bring it here. I don't like to think about any demons getting there hands on it." Dawn had blushed then. "No offence."

He'd waved it off. The demon didn't seem to take offence to anything. It was probably one of the reasons he'd gotten along with Buffy. Dawn thanked him for bringing her brother home and Clem left. She wandered through the house and watched a bit of TV. At half two she heard the shower turn on above her.

Spike groaned at the TV when he got downstairs and slouched into the kitchen. Dawn followed and watched him down two Tylenol.

"Give me a minute, Dawnie and we'll head over there." He sat at the island and put his head in his hands.

"We don't have to do it today." She whispered.

"No. We do."