One month. Nearly an eternity from the worst day of her life, and yet, only a moment ago in her mind. She gazed out over the silent cemetery; stake raised slightly in her clenched hand, and haunted eyes drifting from grave to grave. They fell softly on the grave she held most dear. It was so hard to contain the emotions that surged from the recognition. She read the name again. Joyce Summers. The pain threatened to overwhelm her again. But she took a deep breath, forcing the sorrow down. After an hour of patrolling, she retreated in the still night air. As she brushed past the familiar grave, she brushed a gentle hand across the headstone, dropping a flower at its base.
In her wake, a lone figure emerged from the shadows, watching her closely as she left the cemetery. He bent down slowly at Joyce's grave, taking a moment to reflect on its significance, before rising up. He had not heard from her at all during the past month. Their usual quarrels had ended. Normally, they succumbed to at least one good argument a night. But ever since Dru's appearance, nothing had been the same. Buffy had hastily pulled away from him. Even the Scoobies rejected his presence now. He was back at square one. No better then when he had started.
A frown crossed Spike's face as he recalled the events. He felt immense regret at his actions. He had never wanted to sever the trust he had developed with her. So many hopes. So many expectations. He had blinded himself with love and ended up the fool. Now, she wanted nothing to do with him. In her mind, he had vanished from existence.
During the last month, he had wanted to contact her. But he knew that by doing so, he could further extinguish all hopes of reconciling with the Slayer. Her sorrow was evident. He could feel the anguish in her heart every time he watched her patrol. Her eyes no longer held the lovely, unruly expression. Now, they were vacant and expressionless. Cold. Haunted.
He strode on, towards the gate, maintaining a large distance between himself and her. Her protection had been his new duty. It was the only gesture of compassion he could forge. And she knew nothing of it.
Buffy reached the door to her house. Every time she glanced around the yard, she was reminded of her mother. But this was home. A place where she belonged. The only warm comfort in her unpredictable life. It was a place where she could bath in the warm memories of her mother. She felt a responsibility to care for the house. As though tending it would not only honor her mother's memory, but also continue the Summers tradition.
She slipped through the door, careful not to shut it too loudly and wake Dawn. Buffy pulled off her leather coat and hung it near the door. She carefully stepped up the stairs and stood in Dawn's doorway. Asleep. . .finally, she noticed with a small measure of relief. Her mother's death had been the hardest on Dawn. Buffy was determined to care for her younger sister. It was her duty.
Buffy entered her own room and closed the door soundlessly. She pulled off her clothes and slipped into her pajamas, brushing her hair back. Moving towards the window, she touched the glass with her fingers and closed her eyes. How long could she do this, she asked herself. How long could she force the sorrow away? How long could she maintain her role as comforter, protector, and. . .Slayer? A single tear fell from her eyes, slipped down her cheek, and landed on the window frame. She glanced down, squinting in the dim light.
A single rose lay on the frame. Its petals gleamed in the moonlight, shining through the window. Buffy picked it up, examining the flower silently. A slight breeze blew on her skin, and she realized that her window was open barely an inch. She brushed her fingers across the glass, her mind searching for an answer. How did it get here? Who left it?
The answer came quickly. She wanted to dismiss it. But it kept nagging at her mind. He hadn't been around for awhile. She was glad. It had given her time to think. But the stress of her mother's death had replaced the turmoil caused by Spike's confession. She had tried to forget what he had said. Tried to stop working around the fact that he had feelings for her.
She glanced out her window suspiciously, scanning the lawn below for an unwelcome visitor. When she found nothing, she quietly shut the window and turned away, heading for bed.
Below, in the moonlight, he stood amongst the shadows, hidden from sight. It was the only gift he could offer her. The only gesture she might actually accept. He quickly turned away and headed off into the night.
***
Today was supposed to be like the day before. Dawn would head off to school, and Buffy would hurry to class. She had nearly dropped out after her mother's death. There were concerns about how she would be able to afford it. But her mother had quietly accrued a trust fund for her daughters. She had left behind enough to support them. It was like she was planning for this very day. Like she knew it would happen soon. Giles had encouraged her to continue her education. He felt it would best keep her grounded. Besides, Dawn needed a good example.
***
"What is it?" Buffy asked, walking into the kitchen.
Dawn sat stiffly in her chair at the table. In front of her, lay an opened letter. Her vacant gaze was what disturbed Buffy the most. Dawn turned her head slowly.
"It's a letter from dad," she replied, glancing down at the paper.
"A letter?" Buffy repeated, confusion filling her tired face.
"He wants me to come live with him," Dawn announced softly.
Buffy stood speechless for a moment before picking the letter from the table and skimming it. A frown tugged at her mouth as she glanced over at Dawn.
"I want to go," Dawn replied, her emotionless eyes fixing on Buffy's.
"Dawn," Buffy argued, "what are you talking about?"
Dawn crossed her arms in anger. "I'm tired of remembering. I'm tired of seeing the pain in your face, day after day. I want to leave!" She rose from her chair, sliding it aside noisily.
"You can't," Buffy countered, "you're the Key, remember?"
"I know," Dawn shouted.
"You have to stay with me. It's not safe for you to. . ."
"I don't care!" Dawn interrupted. "When is everyone going to stop treating me like a china doll?"
Buffy's expression filled with exasperation. "Dawn! If you leave. . .Glory might. . ."
"No," Dawn shouted, "she won't find me. She doesn't even know what I am. Besides, the farther away I am from her, the better off I am."
Tired of trying to win the argument, Buffy was forced to accept defeat. It was like a nightmare. A nightmare she was forced to watch at a distance. Disconnected from reality, she picked up the phone and called her dad. Glancing back at her younger sister, she watched with vacant eyes as Dawn slumped in her chair and fidgeted.
The week passed slowly. Buffy felt like the world had been pulled away from her. She was at a loss for words and actions. The events of the week passed before her like a distant dream. The only distinct memory was of Dawn. Dawn climbing into her dad's car and shutting the door. The sound echoed over and over again, painfully, in her mind. And as she watched the car move away, Buffy's eyes fixed onto the fleeting image of her sister, as she disappeared from her world.
***
There was nothing more painful than an empty house. The silence was too much. Day after day. Night after night. Each seemed to pass just as slowly as the one before it. But she stopped herself from crying. Shut herself down emotionally and disconnected herself from the pain. Every night, she wandered the house, stopping in each doorway to reflect on the ghosts from the past. She would sit among distant memories in the living room. Her mother, Dawn, and her friends sat around her. Their transparent images flickered in her mind, threatening to disappear.
It was on one particular night when a knock at the door jarred her from the imaginary world she had constructed. Buffy moved from the couch to answer the door. Giles stood on the porch, a concerned expression riddling his face. He glanced at the Slayer as she opened the door, noting the emptiness in her eyes.
"Buffy. . .we haven't heard from you for a few days. Are you alright?" he asked gently, startled by her haunted expression.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, the words seemed to stream out without any control.
"I heard about Dawn," he said.
"She's going to stay at dad's. I guess I'm not much of a companion right now," Buffy replied faintly.
"Buffy?" Giles' voice filled with concern. "Are you sure you're alright?"
She looked at him, her eyes betraying the emotions she had tried to hold back. "I just need some time."
"You shouldn't be alone," Giles retorted, his expression growing serious. "Perhaps Willow could. . ."
"I'm fine," she interrupted, almost too harshly. "Just. . .leave."
Giles studied her fatigued expression with extreme concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when he saw the pleading look in her eyes.
"It's late," she said.
"I don't think you should patrol tonight. We'll cover for you," Giles suggested.
"No, it's alright," she blurted out. "I can do it. I. . .need to."
Giles nodded slowly. He was afraid of her state of mind. Afraid for her. Maybe patrolling would help her move on. Or maybe it would present a danger to a shaken Slayer. But before he could respond, she had closed the door, and left him bathed in the dim light of the street.
***
He watched her move amongst the shrubbery. Her movements were slow and deliberate. Gone was the swift and dramatic tactics she so often used. She moved about the graves in almost a trance-like state. Like last night, and the night before it, she brushed her fingers along her mother's gravestone in quiet reverence. Another vampire rose from the grave, and she stopped it abruptly, striking it blatantly in the heart with one, unanimated move. She paused, examining the stake in her hand, and staring down at the pile of dust. Something flickered briefly in her eyes. Something uncommon to her. Something dangerous. But she left the thought behind, and continued along, shuffling her feet as though sleepwalking.
Spike moved from the bushes, still out of site. A grim expression filled his face as he thought. What he saw was surprising. He had always known this familiar pattern. He had seen it with the others. But for some strange reason, he had never expected her to exhibit the same behavior. Perhaps it was simply fate, as usual, coming along at the right time to change the course of events.
***
She was alone. That's how she liked it now. There was no one to muddle her thoughts with pointless conversation. She spent her nights patrolling the cemetery. It was the only thing that mattered now. The only thing worth something in her life. But she was growing tired. The burn of countless slayings was becoming noticeable. The pent up emotions had been pushed to the side.
Buffy glanced out her window. Again, she noticed a fresh rose laying on the frame. It had been the same. Night after night, the strange gift had been laid out for her. And like the night before, she would pick it up, turn it over gently in her hand, and inhale its fragrance. Worried eyes glanced through the window, sweeping the yard for a sign of the intruder. As usual, she found no one.
Tonight, she decided to deviate from her routine. Slipping on a light jacket over her pajamas, and a pair of shoes on her bare feet. she headed out the door. The night was quiet and the air cool, as it brushed lightly through her hair. She walked briskly towards the cemetery, determined to find the one responsible. As she walked down the dimly lit street, she heard a rustle behind her. It was almost too faint to notice. But her senses easily detected it. Buffy swung around slowly, and saw nothing. Her brow furrowed as she continued on, trying to hear the sound repeat itself.
Rounding a corner, she pressed herself against the shrubs of a yard and waited. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited. Soon, a shadow stretched along the pavement and stopped. Buffy swung around the corner, intent on stopping her pursuer. She stopped abruptly when she saw Spike. He stood motionless, watching her as she glanced at him. Her eyes never fixed on his. They bore through him. Away from him. Unfocused and filled with grief.
"Buffy," he said softly. He had not spoken her name for what seemed like an eternity, and it felt good.
"Why are you following me?" she asked. The normal challenging tone to her voice was long gone. It had been replaced with a quiet, innocent whimper. "I told you to leave me alone."
Spike studied the shaken Slayer with careful eyes. "You need me," he said blatantly.
Frustration filled her face. "I don't need you!" she shouted. "I don't need anybody. Just. . .leave me alone," she brushed him off, turning to walk away.
He quickly grabbed her wrist, spinning her around to face him. Strangely, she didn't resist. Her tired eyes looked up at him. "Listen. . .you're falling apart. You won't last much longer like this," Spike explained sternly.
"How do you know?" she asked coldly.
"Because, I've seen it before," he said, stopping himself as his determined gaze swept across her eyes. "You're starting to give up. I've watched you night after bloody night."
"Then stop watching," Buffy growled. "And stop sending the flowers."
"Buffy," Spike said gently, pursuing her as she walked down the sidewalk. "I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not."
"Why?" Buffy cried out, turning to face him again. "Why come at all? How many times do I have to say this. . .I want to be alone. I don't trust you. I don't have feelings for you. Period!"
She turned to walk away, but something prevented her from ending the discussion. The emotions she had tried to hide for so long were beginning to break through. She nearly choked, a sob wracking her body as she fought to control it.
She felt a hand brush her shoulder, and his soft, deep voice reverberate. "Buffy."
Hiding her face with a hand, she rushed away from him. But he was quickly on her tail.
She ran, throwing all of her emotion into the movement, and tried to elude him. But every time she looked behind, a tear stained face betraying her, he was there. He was always there. Always the wolf snapping at her heels. She ran harder, bolting through the gates to the cemetery. Finally, she collapsed hands first, onto the grass. She fought to feed her starving lungs with oxygen. Glancing behind, she saw him standing behind her with a concerned expression on his cool, handsome face.
"Just, go away," she breathed, growing quiet.
"No," he responded with authority, managing a gentleness in the word.
"I won't let you destroy me," she whimpered, slumping down on the grass and burying her cheek into the ground.
He was quick to take action, and moved beside her, flipping her over. She looked up at him. Her large, liquid eyes searched his for a moment. A strange look filled her face - a mixture of fear, anguish, and indifference. He held her face firmly with his hand.
"You'll destroy yourself," he stated. "You're already letting go."
"What are you talking about," she argued.
"Do you recall the little talk we had about the others? Do you remember why they failed?" Spike said coolly.
"Get away from me," she growled, disgust filling her face.
"Stop it," he shouted harshly, enough for her to sink back down. "Listen to me. I'm here to help you. You've got to believe me. If you don't. . .well, that doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"
Buffy didn't reply.
"The point being. . .you're slipping. You're not going to last much longer if you continue down the road you're on," Spike explained sternly, his eyes locked onto her own.
"Does it really matter?" she asked quietly, glancing away with unfocused eyes.
The look of helplessness consumed her eyes. It seemed to encompass every part of her now. She didn't try to struggle. A part of her had already given up. Had offered itself as a sacrifice for all the pain she had fostered.
"Do you think they felt the same way?" she asked strangely. "Tired. . .so tired."
Spike studied her closely. The feelings she expressed, the obvious surrender acted almost like a drug. The way her hair graced her neck, cascading across the grass. . .the emptiness in her large, liquid eyes. . .her parted, sorrowful lips. He couldn't help notice more acutely than ever before. Almost as he had sensed with the others. The same heavy, uncontrollable desire to completely possess the very being of this creature. He blinked away the feeling, realizing for the first time, that no one had ever had this effect on him before. He was usually bent on taking care of business in an efficient, well-orchestrated manner. Of course, he did tend to throw a little fun into his actions. But she broke through the cold, calculating demeanor. She disarmed him. Some distant, human element, lost long ago, seemed to have been rekindled.
"Get up," he ordered, sounding obviously compromised.
He pulled her up, and she stood weakly before him, her vacant expression still sweeping the ground. Something strange crossed her face. It was as though she had awaken from a dream. Buffy became acutely alert for once. She glanced at Spike, looking around in confusion as she straightened her coat.
"I. . .have to go," she hesitated.
Spike nodded quietly. "Someday, you'll have to talk."
"I can't," she replied softly, looking past the headstones sadly.
"I was once where you are. So filled with pain. Tired with the world. I thought I could take the easy way out. Simply shrug off what I was, and become something greater in the process," Spike reflected a candid tone in his voice. "But I never really gained anything. I never really got what I wanted out of the deal. Sure, I had my fun. . .but in the end, I realize I still hadn't found what I was looking for. Until. . ." he looked directly at her, a strange longing filling his eyes.
"You can't expect me to believe it," she asked quietly, "can you?"
"No, I suppose not," he replied, glancing down in disappointment. He looked back at her and sighed. "It's been too long. I've used up my second chances. I've screwed up."
For the first time in her recollection, Buffy actually believed his words. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt a genuine regret on his part. She blinked, turning slowly, casting a glance briefly over her shoulder, before trudging away.
***
He waited impatiently on her doorstep, pacing under the glow of the porchlight. She was probably out slaying right now, he thought. No matter, he would wait. The latest news on Buffy was alarming. He had wasted no time in rushing back to Sunnydale to see how she was doing. She had always been strongly family oriented. That's what made her distinct from the others of her unique lineage. These earthly ties had kept her grounded during her tumultuous youth. And now, after hearing that the strongest tie had been cut, Angel knew she would be severely compromised. He did not know to what extent, but he knew he had to find out.
Suddenly, he saw her approach the yard. She did not notice him at first. Her heavy gaze swept the ground in front of her and she meandered along the sidewalk. Arms hanging limply at her side, she walked along the street like a wandering ghost. As though nothing around her was real. Nothing around her mattered enough to warrant a glance. Concern riddled his heavy brow as he watched her approach. She glanced up, torn from the solemn moment, and met his eyes. Normally, passion and conviction claimed her gaze. But on this occasion, her eyes were empty voids, containing nothing, and reacting to nothing.
"Angel," she asked quietly, "what are you doing here?"
"Buffy," he smiled slowly, dropping all pretenses of a friendly, light-hearted conversation. "I heard about your mother. Are you alright?"
She glanced away, brushing the back of her hand across her face, before meeting his gaze with her empty expression. "I'm. . .fine. How did you. . ."
"Let's just say word gets around," he replied quickly, trying to cut to the details.
She stopped in front of him, straightening her jacket, as though bored with the conversation. "You didn't have to come back," she said.
Confusion filled his handsome face as he scrutinized her. "I think it was necessary," he responded seriously. "I've heard other things. Spike is in love with you?"
Buffy glanced away quickly, brushing back a fallen strand of hair in embarrassment. "No. . .it's nothing. Nothing at all."
"It's dangerous, Buffy. You don't know him like I do," Angel countered.
She glanced up at him, her expression turning cold, "I think I can handle myself."
"I'm not so sure," Angel argued. "Your weak right now. Spike could take this opportunity to attack."
"No," she said, brushing away his concern, "I don't think he would."
"How can you be so sure?"
Buffy sighed heavily, "He's got a chip. . .in his head. He can't hurt humans. Only demons."
Angel considered the news carefully. Surprise filled his face at the words. "But why would he say that he loves you? If he can't hurt you. . .why would he try something like this?"
Buffy glanced around uncomfortably. "I. . .I don't know. Maybe it's for real."
Angel scoffed, nearly laughing at the idea. "That's a little hard to believe. He's always hated humanity. Killing a Slayer has always been a natural high for him. Why would he fall for the very thing he hates the most?"
Buffy didn't reply. She blinked away the shame of the idea. "It's late, I'm tired," she said coolly. Buffy was about to leave him alone on the step, when she turned slightly. "You can have the couch if you want," she said distantly.
Angel accepted the invitation apprehensively. There was something clearly wrong with her. She had taken her mother's death harshly. And with Spike trailing about her like a hungry wolf, she would need someone to watch out for her. It was the right thing to do. Friends looked out for each other. He briefly remembered a time when that boundary had been crossed. When they had been much more then friends. But times had changed. They had changed.
***
When he woke up, she was gone. He had searched the house, finding her bedroom door slightly ajar, clothes flung hastily on the bed, and nothing but silence. No goodbye. No indication of where she had gone, what she was doing, or when she would be back. Nothing seemed to matter to her anymore. Angel frowned, turning from her door, and descended the stairs. Sunlight streamed through the draped front window, pooling on the floor in a hazy blanket.
***
Anya was busy placing several new items on the main counter. Willow and Tara were filing through Giles' latest books on incantations. Xander was perched on the edge of the table, boredom quite evident, as his legs swung back and forth. It had been a quiet, uneventful morning. Everything seemed perfectly normal, expect for one thing. Buffy latest, enduring absence had plagued all their minds. She was distancing herself from them all. At a time when friends should be embraced, she had instead decided to alienate herself from the most familiar.
A light tinkling of a bell sounded. Xander glanced up, noticing a tall figure entering the solemn atmosphere of the store.
"Angel!" he called out.
Willow looked up quickly in surprise, turning to see the visitor. Tara glanced up, exchanging a confused look with Anya. Giles emerged from the shelves immediately.
"Angel? What. . .what are you doing here?" he asked abruptly, following it quickly with, "It's good to see you again."
"Likewise," Angel replied, crossing the room slowly, as he glanced around at the store. "Nice place," he commented.
"Thank you," Giles said.
Angel stopped before the Watcher, rubbing his palms together as he carefully chose his words. "I heard about Buffy's mom. I thought I'd come back to see how she was doing."
"Not good," Willow spoke up, glancing at Xander.
"I. . .gathered that," Angel replied. "I met with her last night. She seemed very distant."
"I know," Giles replied. "She's been avoiding everyone for some time now. I've been insisting she allow us to help, but she refuses any aid, whatsoever."
Angel glanced around uncomfortably. "I also heard about Spike."
Willow remained speechless for a moment. "Oh," she uttered.
"It seems the fanged-one has the hots for Buffy," Xander said, smiling briefly at Angel.
"Which concerns me," Angel added. He turned to Giles. "Do you have any idea why Spike is pursuing her, other than the obvious?"
Giles rubbed his forehead for a moment. "I'm not sure. My first instinct was that Spike is merely out to crush Buffy any way he can. If he can't kill her, perhaps he's trying to destroy her some other way."
Angel nodded in agreement.
Giles' brow furrowed as he continued. "But, that doesn't explain everything. Spike is clearly developing an obsession. There are indications of that. According to Buffy, he kept a vigil for her. . .he even attempted to kill Drucsilla for her."
"I don't understand this," Angel admitted. "He's never tried something like this before."
"Actually," Giles explained, "he had changed quite considerably before the incident with Druscilla. He even allied himself with us."
"To get closer to Buffy?" Angel questioned.
"That's what I think," Giles nodded. He still had an unreadable expression on his face.
Angel noticed. "What is it?"
"I don't know," Giles said quietly. "Even though his motives for change are clear. . .I still get the impression that something has changed within him."
"If that's so, I intend to find out," Angel stated firmly.
***
Spike paced about the crypt, too occupied with his own thoughts to notice the intruder. The first thing to shake him from his musings was the delicate trace of moonlight rushing across the floor.
"Oh, it's you," Spike said sarcastically. "Stop the press. . .tall, dark, and boring is back!"
"Enough, Spike," Angel responded, annoyance flashing across his face.
"So, what are you doing back in good ol' Sunny D? Come to see how your ex is faring?" Spike asked, attempting to size up his nemesis.
"Stop the games and tell me what you're up to," Angel growled.
Dramatic innocence flooded Spike's face as he raised his hand against his heart. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Angel answered sharply.
"Well," Spike stalled, trying to come up with a good story, "If you must know, I was in the middle of some serious pacing. Us vamps gotta keep plotting and scheming."
Angel, clearly out of his share of patience, thrust Spike roughly against the wall. "Tell me why you've been after Buffy."
Spike smiled uncomfortably, feeling a sudden rush of deja vu. Captain Cardboard himself seemed to enjoy the same tactic. . .use brute force to get some answers. "There's nothing to tell you."
"Yes," Angel said slowly, adding strong emphasis to his words, "there is."
Spike stammered for a moment, before cold reality settled into his eyes. "I don't mean any harm for the Slayer."
"And why should I believe you?" Angel growled.
Spike laughed briefly, "I get that line a lot." He watched Angel's growing impatience and responded. "Right. The Slayer. OK. . .If you must know, I've grown. . .fond of her."
"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Angel asked.
Speechless, and obviously trying to evade the question, Spike tried to change the subject. "Did you watch Passions?"
"Shut up, and answer the question!" his nemesis shouted, thrusting him harder against the wall.
"Alright. . .alright. Yeah, okay, I. . .I'll admit. I. . .love her," Spike finally stated, finding it hard to look Angel straight in the eye.
"Do you really think she'll return your feelings?" Angel scoffed.
"Well. . .she returned yours. And that's a bit of a stretch, my friend," Spike countered.
"Spike. . .you're no good. I want you to stay away from her. Do you understand?" Angel threatened, he released Spike from his grip.
Spike straightened up. "No, I don't. In fact, I don't think you've been around enough lately to. . .know me. You might even find a surprise here and there."
"Such as?"
"Well," Spike searched for the words. "I've devoted myself, as of late, to help bring down the demons in Sunnydale."
"Is that so?" Angel said, clearly unconvinced.
"Yes," he said, "Ask the Scoobies. I've been quite helpful from time to time. In fact. . .I do believe I've filled your position."
Angel glared at the younger vampire, eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Spike smiled, noting that he had struck a nerve. "Let's just say that I've changed my ways. I'm at the Slayer's disposal," he said, bowing dramatically.
"You really have gone mad," Angel seethed.
For the first time in their argument, Spike's face filled with true anger. He raised a finger at his former ally. "I don't believe you have the right to make that judgement. What I feel is real. If you can't accept that. . .fine! But know this. . .I may have been a bit rough in the past, but I have changed. You should be the first to understand that! There's been nothing truly fulfilling in my life until now. She's the only one who's brought a little humanity back into my stagnant existence! She's all I'll ever need," Spike said firmly, staring Angel straight in the eyes with obvious determination.
Angel remained quiet for a moment, evaluating Spike silently. "Perhaps you have changed," he concluded. "I'm still going to watch you!"
Angel left just as abruptly as he had arrived. Spike remained in his wake, seething over the argument with a new determination. He would win her over.
