Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

...Within Me	By : ScarletIbis Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 1906 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: Thanks to DoS for betaing :D Okay, this was a difficult chapter, mostly because artisically, I wanted to present this... well, in my brain, what seemed special to me. So you have here a flashback within a flashback. If it's confusing, let me know.

Also, thanks to Blood Faerie, Caro Mio, Eowyn, GoldenBuffy, maryperk, Immortal Beloved and Spikez_tart for helping to work out a few canon kinks as well ;)

"When the Sun Sets Up..."

"Spike, you have to eat something. You aren't healing, and you're wasting away. Furthermore, I'd like to have the chance to be able to sit on the couch in my own home at some point."

"Why--so you can enjoy the gigantic plasma in your living room? Oh wait... Leave me be, Watcher." Spike's sarcastic response came out dry and scratched from his latest bout of crying. It had been two days since the funeral, and he hadn't moved one inch since lying down on Giles' couch.

Although he would never have admitted it to them, however, he had to hand it to Giles, and to the rest of the Scoobies, particularly Harris, for trying to help him deal. It was hard on them all, of course, because they all loved her in their own way, but Buffy's death seemed to hit Spike and Willow the hardest. The hours following her death were particularly hard on the platinum blonde and the red head--their inconsolable sobs seemingly warring with each other, until a sad realization had dawned on Willow.

No one had told Angel.

Willow had taken personal responsibility for telling the souled vampire. However, when she called and received no answer, she seemed to become even more distraught, but remained determined just the same.

She had insisted on going to L.A. first thing in the morning to tell him personally of Buffy's demise. Spike, along with the others, assumed it was mostly because the now fragile redhead couldn't bear to help with, or even discuss, the arrangements of Buffy's funeral and burial. Those tasks were left to the rest of them.

Anya had chosen her dress. Long, black, somber�Boring.

Giles added a simple gold cross to adorn her neck.

Her surrogate father was also the one who chose "Beloved Sister, Devoted Friend" for the first part of her headstone, while Xander added "She saved the world." Dawn completed it with adding "a lot" to the end.

Hell, it was true.

Spike insisted on doing the obituary, dictating to Tara how he thought her life story, the Slayer aspect of it anyway, should be told. His words were elegant, and did his Slayer justice. Dawn, with the aid of Giles, worked out her early years.

Two days passed, and the day had come to finally lay her to rest.

Spike, though he still couldn't walk, demanded that he be allowed to go. No one argued with him. In fact, it was Xander who procured him a wheel chair so that he could travel with ease to her funeral. He even attached a golf umbrella, insulated with foil to protect Spike from the sun.

Spike was stunned speechless, and nearly started up with the water works again. He was torn between gratitude to Harris for being so thoughtful to him, and disdain at having to ride around in a wheelchair again. But he'd gladly do it so that he could be able to...so that he could...

Say goodbye.

Any torture or bad memories would be worth being able to see his Slayer�to see his girl off.

Funny thing, that.

He managed to get inside of the bloody funeral home, with Harris wheeling him in, but when faced with her open casket, he couldn't bear to look at her. His golden goddess--vibrant, beautiful, and�dead. It was a hard thing to accept. She was cold, lifeless, still. It wasn't his Buffy. It couldn't be. He couldn't look.

Instead, he gazed longingly at the color photo depicting her smiling face on the cover of her obituary, causing a small smile to flit across his own. Then he frowned when he realized that no one had taken care to put the actual dates of either her birth or her death. He sighed, looking up as the funeral director closed the pearly white casket (for the director knew all except one were in attendance to the very private and secret funeral) placing the bouquet of flowers atop it.

He listened intently as Tara's soft, steady voice read Buffy's obituary at the podium.

She didn't stutter once.

"Her movements were like liquid fire--swift, deadly, precise, and with a flare strictly hers. Buffy was truly one of a kind, and there will never be anyone able to touch even the barest hint of her grace, or have half her heart. In the end, the only thing that could take her from this world was not in demon form, but in the form of love. Love for her sister, and for the world we all have to live in. She sacrificed herself so that the rest of us could live to see another day. Her act, her bravery, and unconditional love were, are, and always will be, an inspiration to us all."

Then the moment came when the director (a close acquaintance of Giles', and owed him a favor or two) asked if anyone wanted to share a fond memory. Because her death was to be kept secret, the only ones there besides her core group of friends and kid sis were the cheerleader, Cordelia, and her other Watcher, apparently, by the name of Wesley.

Good thing too. Otherwise, that part of the funeral might have been awfully quiet.

"It's no secret how much of a bitch I--oh, sorry... Is that bad to say? Here, I mean?" Giles chuckled silently to himself, while Xander nodded in encouragement at the now flustered Cordelia, to continue.

"Well, I wasn't pleasant to most in those teen years. I'm over it now. Anyway, um, there were times, many times, when we didn't get along. Like when we ran against each other at Homecoming, or the time I tried to steal Angel away from her, or any one of the many various insults I gave to her, or her friends. But that never stopped her from saving me. I couldn't even tell you how many times that girl came to my rescue."

She paused, giving a watery smile as she turned to glance at the casket before facing the room again. "There was even one time, when she didn't even have her Slayer strength, and tried to come to my rescue when this huge cretin was being rough with me. But that was Buffy--she was a hero, unbelievable physical strength present or not. The girl must've had a complex or something. I'm glad she did, though, 'cause otherwise, I'm willing to bet that none of us would even be here." She sniffled, and nodded at them all in the front row, though frowning slightly at the vampire with the dark shades in the wheelchair on the side.

The tear tracks that bled through the rim of his large glasses were not lost on her.

She walked back down the aisle several rows back to her seat next to Wesley.

Anya, giving a comforting hug to Xander, stood up, and walked to the podium to speak. She cleared her throat, taking out a little blue note card.

"I've been around for over a millennium. And in all my years, I've never seen anyone inspire the kind of loyalty from people, from mortals with so much to lose, like Buffy did. Do you guys even realize how truly amazing that is? Most people would probably go, 'hey, I'll support you, from way over here. Give me a ring if you need any help,' or something like that. Everyday, you guys, her friends, who are of no blood relation, stood beside her, risking your own lives, because you cared about her so much. And sure, we all want to do good things, and be good people, but I think the only reason that we all do what we do, and will continue to do in her stead is because we had the chance, and the honor to walk with a hero--a champion. Our friend."

As she walked back to her seat, Xander stood up to meet her, pulling her to him, and hugging her close. After a brief inhalation of Anya's comforting scent, and a deep sigh, Xander walked up to the podium.

"I honestly don't know what it is to say or add about Buff that you guys don't already know, or haven't said. That she was beautiful, smart, a good friend, a hero... and even that's not enough. I don't think that there's even enough adjectives in the English language that would even begin to scratch the surface of what was...Buffy Summers. My uh, my sophomore year in high school, Buffy became my best friend. And this was after, of course, the many times she saved my life as well, and would come to my aid time and again many times after. But Buffy, she...she wasn't just the muscle. She wasn't just the Slayer. She was funny, and kind...forgiving. And here I go with the lame adjectives again. But whatever it was she did, she put her whole heart into it. She was unselfish like that.

�For a long time, I thought she was invincible, somehow. She got drowned by the Master, and all she needed to do was cough up some murky water. She gets nearly drained of her blood, and then she's up hours later to lead us in a fight in the latest apocalypse. Crazy robot, demony thing that seems to be unstoppable, but Buffy holds her own until we did a little chant, and she reaches into his chest cavity and kills his power source. Spike was right--the only thing that could stop Buffy was�well, Buffy. I just hoped...I just wish she had more time, ya know? Being so young and..."

And suddenly, it was all too much.

Xander broke down, face scrunched up in grief before he walked away and sat back down next to Anya. She held him, rubbing his back gently.

Giles stood up, ignoring the boy's quiet sobbing, and walked stiffly to the podium. His face seemed to be devoid of any emotion, though his eyes were glassy. He looked downward as he began to speak.

"Buffy was not just my charge, or just a Slayer to me. As much as the Council wanted me to, I never could, never did just view her as a weapon. She was the closet thing I ever had to a child. I felt as if...she were my daughter just as much as she was Joyce's. She was truly, um...I..." Slowly, Giles turned around, fully facing the casket.

"You, you deserved so much better, Buffy. I'm sorry that I failed you," Giles whispered, walking up to the casket. He collapsed on top of it, sobbing openly, repeating over and over how horribly he had failed her, begging for her forgiveness. It was Willow who went to him moments later, assisting the broken man back to his seat.

And then it was time for the final viewing.

Spike simply could not not look any longer. It would be his last chance to really see her, even if she wasn't...even if it was just her body.

Spike made sure that he was last. She looked peaceful as she lay there. If Spike hadn't known any better, and been without his vampiric abilities, he might have been able to delude himself that she was only sleeping. But as it was, he couldn't hear her heartbeat. He knew that she was room temperature.

She wasn't really there at all.

Though it was a dangerous trek in the bright sunshine, Spike made it through the cemetery with Xander's help and his foiled umbrella. Thankfully, Buffy's final resting place was under a large oak tree, creating a blanket of shade over the spot. Spike wondered if that was a coincidence on the Scoobies' part, or if they chose such a spot knowing that the Slayer might receive vampire visitors in the daytime.

Not that Angel actually came. Wanker.

Everyone seemed to be holding up better at that point. Wesley began to read a passage from the Bible upon Giles' request.

But as the casket began to be lowered into the ground...

The Bit finally broke.

Tara tried to hold her, console her, but it wasn't enough, not nearly.

Dawn broke away from her embrace, and launched herself onto Spike, sobbing into his neck. Even though her frame was slight, it hurt like hell to have her weight bearing down on his still broken legs in such a way. But he didn't care. He'd be there for Dawn no matter how much pain was involved. And not just because of his promise either--Dawn was his to protect.

He loved her.

Xander seemed to notice Spike's grimace of pain, though, and gently pulled the sobbing girl off him.

And then it was all over.

Time to leave, and perhaps congregate at the Summers' home for the repast, as was tradition. Only Spike hadn't moved. He had continued to sit, watching as one of the caretakers began shoveling dirt atop her pristine coffin. The caretaker managed to get in six full shovels of dirt before Harris made his way back over, attempting to wheel Spike away.

�Come on, Spike. It's time to go."

�No," Spike protested, gripping the wheels, which put his pale hands dangerously close to the sun's deadly rays. "I wanna stay. It's no harm in staying."

"That's debatable. It's still bright out, in case you haven't noticed. And besides, Dawnie's worried about you. Wanted to make sure that you were coming back," he said softly.

"No, I'm soddin' well not gonna hurl myself into the sunshine, if that's what you all were thinking."

Not that he hadn't considered it, briefly.

All right, extensively.

But he always ended up not attempting it. He still had Dawn to consider. He couldn't leave his girl.

But it didn't seem worth feeding anymore. Or at the very least, he didn't think he could stomach it right at the moment. He could tell from the smell that Giles had even added a bit of otter to coax him into taking the steaming mug, but even that wasn't swaying him.

But as he began to think back on leaving the cemetery, and how the others kept glancing at him in concern, wondering if he would end it all by allowing the sun to touch his flesh, wasting away by refusing blood that would help him heal wasn't a better option, and would eventually end with the same result�his turning to ash, as well as his failing Dawn, once again. He couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't let the days continue to pass on by, laid up on Giles' sofa just because the Watcher was suddenly too nice to not push him off it.

Still feeling quite stubborn, Spike kept his back to Giles, and instead opted to hold his hand out, waiting for the mug full of nourishment the Watcher had already prepared.

"Thank you," Giles said, placing the cup in his hand.

Spike nodded absently, bringing the cup to his lips, vowing that he wouldn't run away--not literally, nor through death. It wouldn't be easy, not hardly, but he'd find a way. He always did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Spike couldn't contain the anger and frustration building up within him.

They had known.

No, not only had they known, they had planned Buffy's resurrection, and hadn't told him.

Bloody soddin' hell, he was furious.

And yet ecstatic as well.

Buffy was here; she was back. But what did that mean? Was she all right? Was she hurt? Did she need anything? Anything at all?

Unfortunately, he wasn't around long enough to find out. Spike felt beyond betrayed at not being told, and honestly, he didn't know how to accept it. It was such an incredible blow. All of the trust and camaraderie he thought they had built over the summer had apparently meant nothing to them.

And by them, he meant Xander, Willow, Tara and Anya.

It was obvious that the Bit was totally clueless to what they had planned, and Giles as well, since he wasn't there. He never would have left if he had known...

And for Xander to have the audacity to accuse him of stalking Buffy again was beyond a low blow. In that moment, he hadn't even cared about whether or not his chip would fire when he slammed the boy against the large tree he just happened to be leaning against, facing away from Buffy's window, mind you, crying silently to himself.

He couldn't stay there a moment longer--he just couldn't.

At least, not while they were there.

By the time he got to his crypt, he realized that he couldn't leave it like that. Sure, it was about three in the morning, but still...he had to check on her, and make sure she was okay. And even if she was, he needed to be sure she had a decent night's rest.

He hopped off of his newly acquisitioned motorcycle a block away, and walked it the rest of the way to the front of the Summers' home. He didn't want to wake the ladies. Taking out a fag, he leaned against his tree, and settled in for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As much as she tried, she couldn't sleep. Seeing the photo of her and her friends morph into corpses really didn't help. So, Buffy lay there, in her room, staring at the ceiling, feeling incredibly bored. She turned on her side, staring out of the window. Her brow furrowed as a potent scent reached her nostrils--it was coming from her pillow. Though it wasn't unpleasant, she just wasn't sure what it was. She turned her head, her nose inhaling deeply. As the strong scent assaulted her nostrils, images began filtering through her mind's eye.

The night she...her room...just the two of them...

Spike.

The leather, the cigarettes, the bourbon...It was comforting.

She inhaled deeply again, playing out the memories of their one night together. God, how she wished he was there with her. She needed...she wasn't sure what she needed.

She wasn't sure of anything.

As she lay there, lost in thought, she thought she heard the sound of metal clink together. No, in fact, she was sure of it. Thankful for finally having a reason, she got out of bed and looked out her window. She looked across the street before finally looking down and seeing the top of a platinum head.

"Spike?" she called out softly.

His head snapped up, lit cigarette dangling from his lips, and eyes wide in shock at being caught.

"Oh. Hi. I was just, uh...why aren't you sleeping?"

"Tried. Couldn't."

"Oh." Spike shifted on his feet uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.

The gesture almost brought a smile to Buffy's face.

Almost.

"Wanna come up? I'm bored? You're...well, wanna come up?"

He looked up at her, tilting his head slightly.

"Uh, yeah. Okay." Spike flicked his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it before starting to walk to the front porch.

"Wait!" Buffy stage whispered. "Just come through the window--I don't want to wake anybody."

Spike arched an eyebrow at her. "Right. But just so you know, I'm fully capable of sneaking into a house. Vampire stealth, and all," he said, but did as she asked. Seconds later, he crawled through her window, stumbling over the sill, and falling not so gracefully to the floor.

"Vampire stealth, huh?"

That earned him a smile. Well, it was more of a smirk. All the better to tease him with.

Spike was just glad he was incapable of blushing.

"Well uh...just been off, is all. No worries," he explained awkwardly. "So, what's the problem, Summers?"

Buffy sighed, shaking her head as she walked back around the bed, sitting down at the foot of it.

"I dunno. I just... It's weird, being here."

"You're bloody tellin' me." She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

"I mean...you're all there. You're...you're perfect,� he said, getting that look of awe in his eyes again. �Usually spells of this caliber...I don't know what Willow did, but whatever it was, she did it right." He lowered his eyes, looking away from her. "I mean, I...never expected to see you again, love."

"They didn't tell you what they were planning."

"No. They didn't."

"I heard you and Xander earlier. You've been here all summer," she stated. She already knew, of course. As soon as she saw him at the bottom of the stairs earlier that night, she knew.

Spike nodded at her, before looking around her room, his eyes landing on her closet. He strode over to it determinedly, yanked the door open, and reached towards the top shelf, pulling something down with ease. He closed the door, and turned so she could see.

It was Mr. Gordo.

"Here," he said, holding the stuffed pig out to her. "Hold this. Thought maybe it could help, with the sleeping," he explained.

This time, she did smile; gratefully.

"Thanks," she said, scooting backwards so that she could lie down. "Will you stay? I'd...find that comforting too. Like a double threat of comfort. But when you think about it, that's a bit of an oxymoron."

Spike, looking incredibly bashful, nodded at her. He took off his coat and hung it on the hook on her closed bedroom door, and began to sit on the floor.

"No--I mean... Do you mind sleeping here? Can you...hold me? Triple comfort," she explained, feeling none too comfortable as she said it, but meaning every word.

"Of course, Buffy. Whatever you need."

The line took her back to that fateful day when she told him they needed to leave Sunnydale. Yes, she had no doubt that Spike would be there for her for whatever it may be that she needed.

Or wanted.

Her eyes almost instantly closed once she felt his arm wrap around her waist, his hand resting on her stomach. The pig with its plastic eyes lay clutched against Buffy's chest, staring straight ahead at the wall on the opposite side.

Yes--that was much better.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

...Within Me