Quietly
by  Lori J

Time may fly
And dreams may die
The shaking voice that tells
Him go
Still thinks he might
He knows he won't
--Missing the War, Ben Folds Five
----

I always thought I'd get taken out by a demon or a vampire or something
equally as dangerous. But life never turns out how you expect it to.

The first sign was an innocent one. A stomachache. No big deal, right? I
got scared when I started throwing up blood. Never a good sign. And hard to
hide when there's a vampire living in your basement. So I took myself to the
doctor.

Cancer.

Stomach cancer, to be exact. Inoperable because it had spread and not very
treatable because it was so advanced.

The doctor said I had maybe six months to live, but that with treatment like
chemotherapy or radiation, I might make it a year. Downside to that was that
the side effects could kill me just as easily as the cancer.

He thought I was crazy when I turned him down. Argued with me for over an
hour but I wouldn't budge. I was going to die anyway, why prolong it? In the
end, the doctor wrote me a prescription for morphine and sent me home.

A prescription I promptly filled and then stared at for a long time. If I
wanted to, I could use it to kill myself. Suicide was a definite option.
Overdosing on morphine wouldn't hurt. It would be just like that song.

In the end I decided not to do it. At least not yet. There were things that
I wanted to do. That I had to do. And I didn't have much time to do them in.

So I went home and made a list. It was a depressingly short one.

I wanted to see the world.

With Spike.

Somewhere along the line, I fell for him. Don't know when or how it
happened, but it did. Maybe it was because when it was just the two of us,
he was actually pretty cool. We'd talk about anything and everything.
Sometimes we rented really bad movies and had our own Mystery Science
Theater.

Maybe it was because Spike actually *listened* to me. Listened and
acknowledged my presence like a lot of people never did.

We'd danced around each other for weeks. Veiled glances here, not so
innocent flirting there. Taking it slow because we both knew that vampires
like Spike and people like me don't get many chances in life. Or unlife as
the case may be.

I didn't want to tell him. Didn't know how to.

Spike caught me throwing up, a daily occurrence since I'd been diagnosed. My
luck ran out and he smelled the blood. One second I was praying to the
porcelain god and the next my bathroom door was off its hinges and Spike was
standing in the doorway demanding to know what the hell was wrong.

I had to tell him then. He kept insisting that I should go to the hospital
and I kept insisting that I didn't need to. So I told him.

I told him and he didn't say a word. He just stared at me.

Finally I got sick of him staring at me and told him that if all he was
going to do was look at me could he wait until I was done puking to do it?

Next thing I know, he was down on his knees next to me and pulling me into a
hug. I lost it, then. Lost the fragile grip on my emotions and cried like a
baby in his arms. I cried for everything I hadn't done and everything I
wasn't going to get a chance to do. I cried for mistakes I'd made, things
I'd said, people I was going to miss.

But I didn't cry forever. I didn't *have* forever anymore.

That night was the first time Spike and I made love. And God, it was perfect
just like I knew it would be.

After, cuddled close to each other, I told him that I wanted to see as much
of the world as I could with him. Spike swore he'd be the best tour guide
ever and we both laughed at the idea.

Decision made, we packed up and left the next night. I didn't want to face
anyone so I wrote letters and mailed them on the road.

And I saw the world.

Saw it between bouts of throwing up and being too weak to get out of bed
some days, that is.

Spike was wonderful and annoying at the same time. Kept treating me like I
was made of glass and that I might break at any moment. Maybe I was. I sure
as hell *felt* breakable some days. We traveled, made love, had the
occasional fight, made love again, and just generally did anything and
everything.

Last stop was England. Spike showed me where he was from and where he was
turned. Little bits of history that I cherished. We stayed there the
longest, both knowing that the end was near.

The day came when I knew that it was time to go back to the states. I just
woke up one morning and *knew*.

Knew that it was almost my time to go.

I don't remember the flight back. Too doped up on morphine and whatever else
would kill the pain. I had a vague impression of the plane landing and Spike
carrying me off. Didn't even know where we ended up.

Woke up in a strange room and fell off the bed trying to find Spike. He
rushed in and picked me up, scolding me for not being more careful.

The sudden appearance of Angel behind him told me where we were.

I didn't even have the energy for a smart-ass remark. Probably that scared
Deadboy more than anything else.

There was whispered talk of Angel turning me. And then shouted talk. Before
we left Sunnydale, I had told Spike that I didn't want to be turned. I
didn't want to be anyone but who I was. Couldn't be, not even for Spike. He
understood that.

Angel didn't.

He came to me and wanted to know why. I wanted to know why he would turn me
even though he hated the life of a vampire.

He didn't have an answer for that.

After that, most of my days were spent sleeping. Any awake time was with
Spike and sometimes Angel. We talked and laughed. Sometimes we cried.

And some nights I slept with a vampire on either side of me.

Not a horrible way to spend my last days.

And one night instead of saying 'good night', I said 'good bye'.

But not forever.
*******
End