Buffy
the Vampire Slayer

The Promise
By Aaron Hurd

Disclaimer:

Let it be known that I am not the brilliant mastermind who conceived the marvel that is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor am I receiving a generous sum of money. I am but a humble fan who was enthralled every Tuesday night at seven o’clock tuned in to the WB before I lost my favorite show forever to the wicked clutches of the UPN network. Was I ranting? Anyway, she is the property of Joss Whedon, The Mutant Enemy, and the omnipotent Fox Network. Spike a.k.a. William the Bloody, the main character of my story, is also part of the whole Buffy mix. So are Dawn and the Key and Giles and Angel and Willow and Tara and Anya and Xander and Cordelia and Wesley and Gunn and Drusilla and Joyce and Sunnydale and The Hellmouth and the Buffy-bot. The one part of this story that is mine is the Decrotta Demon Rethal, but we’ll get to that part of the story later. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Be generous with your compliments and courteous with your critique. My story is set in the future, which as everyone knows is a risky endeavor as events are fabricated to accommodate what the author has ordained for the characters. Take this as a very big what if, and see things from the point of view of Spike. I hope you enjoy the story rated PG for mild language, mild violence, and suggestive adult themes. My story takes place four months after the episode “The Body”. When I wrote it, it was still a while before the season finale.

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The Promise

 

    Spike looked down at his watch as he inhaled a drag from his cigarette. It was only a little after ten o’clock at night as he stood solemnly over a single grave at one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. The long black trench coat he wore flapped about his legs as he intermittently shifted his position, his platinum blond hair slicked back tight against his skull. The expression on his face was one of genuine grief, which, for a vampire, was completely unheard of.

    Unheard of for the vast majority of vampires which was a majority Spike was no longer part of. He was different; there was no reason in denying that leaving him unsure how he would have dealt with the situation or if he would have bothered to care in the first place. At the very core of his being, he was a demon and that meant no conscience, no remorse, and no soul. Then why the Hell did he care so damn much? The answer to that question lied literally in his mind.

    Two years ago, he knew he wouldn’t have given a damn about who lied in the ground. Now it was impossible not to thanks to a little piece of government ingenuity. A chip, or more to the point, a behavior modifier, embedded in his brain preventing him from acting on his true nature to harm the living without experiencing horrible pain first. The chip had done its job as Spike found himself with an emerging conscience. He experienced and felt remorse. Granted he didn’t have a soul but it was pretty damn near close.

    “I miss our chats and all,” Spike said to the quiet earth, his British accent thick with the words he spoke. “The demon community would bloody like to see me dust and the humans who didn’t mind me hanging about are now all bloody sod off Spike. I’m lonely.”

    And it was the honest truth. Spike was lonely and lost at the same time. It would have been so much better if he’d been staked by the Slayer Buffy Summers or at least by one of her pals. They didn’t in the least and Spike wasn’t sure whose fault it was that he had fallen in love with Buffy, his or theirs.

    “I don’t know how to make it right with her. I mean, how can I when the contempt in her eyes burns me as good as any beam of sunlight could? I never wanted it to happen and I tried my best to deal with it. I’ll admit I handled it badly, but what’s a guy in love supposed to do?”

    Saying it went badly was a subtle way of saying things had gone completely awry. At the time, he was beyond desperate and didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t have the real Buffy so he had a robot replica constructed instead.

    It was Buffy in every way, and it didn’t have any qualms about shagging him in every imaginable way. It was perfect. He could have Buffy the way he had been dreaming about without the possibility of her rejecting or leaving him. Still, even the best things in life come to pass and his happiness eventually and seemingly inevitably went to crap leaving him without the comfort of a sentient pleasure giving Buffy-bot. He was half comforted by the notion that he had received some solace even if it was only for a little while.

    “I didn’t mean any harm by my doing what I did,” Spike said to the grave marker. “I couldn’t have her and I was going crazy; all public school gun crazy if you know what I mean. Nothing works out for me, plus I know you’d have been plenty pissed at me and I wouldn’t of blamed you a bit for that. Or maybe you’d have seen past that and at least thanked me for making a mock up of your daughter.”

    Spike took another drag from his cigarette and quickly exhaled the smoke. He wished he could have paid his respects all nice and proper, but he wasn’t invited and in the case of a vampire, that’s a hell of a hindrance. Besides, he already knew he wasn’t wanted; the whole lot of them made that perfectly clear. If you don’t have a soul, you’re impossible to believe and your intentions are seen as anything but decent.

    “I can remember when you made me a cup of hot cocoa with the little marshmallows,” Spike said with fond remembrance. “You were helping me through a tough time in my life what with Dru leaving me and all. And you cared. You actually sincerely cared about my feelings. I liked you pretty much from then on and probably would have still hurt you what with me being a demon and the like; anything to weaken your daughter so I could kill her a lot. Yeah, well, that was my glorious then and this is my pathetic now. Here I am now standing over your grave wishing I could talk to you and picking Cupid’s arrow out o’ my bum so I don’t have these bleedin’ thoughts about wanting to date the Slayer!”

    His outburst through, Spike kneeled down and brushed some dirt and leaves off of the headstone and read the name fondly; Joyce Summers. It had been about four months since she had died and in that time, Spike had been watching over the grave, keeping it looking good. It made him feel better that he was at least able to do something for her and for Buffy. Something that any other vampire, except maybe for Angel, would never have done.

    “I keep my crypt all homely like in case I ever get visitors,” Spike said while standing back up. “Not that I ever get any you see, but I’m never one to have a messy flat. It’s always a good impression for when your daughter comes over to beat the crap out of me.”

    Spike frowned and sighed deeply as a thought went through him. “She hardly does that anymore you know? I mean I hated it and all her being able to bitch slap me and me not even to give her the finger without getting a sodding migraine. But at least she acknowledged me and the like. Yeah sure it was never just say hi, but at least the bruises I got said that someone cared enough to go out and see me. Now I’ve got nothing.”

    Spike regarded the grave a little while longer knowing full well he was pretty much talking to himself. He tried not to look at it that way. He tried to think that he was talking to someone who cared enough to listen in life that she would also care enough to listen in death. The only thing this entire deal lacked was the soothing and pleasant voice Joyce always had for him.

    “I’ll continue to look out for her, I’ll not stop doing that I can promise you. I don’t know how else to think except caring about her well being and the like. Sure she hates me. Sure all her friends hate me. I’ll keep myself detached from the whole Scooby Gang; I can make myself useful to them without their even knowing that. But I’ll have you know that I’m not doing this to impress your daughter because we all know that I have a better chance at being staked, doused with holy water, decapitated and burned by sunlight at the same time.”

    Spike smiled a bit at the thought that maybe Joyce was approving of his actions. It was all he had to hold onto; memories and random thoughts. They were pleasant, but they weren’t enough. Oh God how they weren’t enough.

    “I think I may have overstayed my visit tonight. There’s evil afoot somewhere and I need to do my part. You know helping and the like. Saving kittens from trees and helping little old ladies with their groceries across the street. Yeah sure I’ll slay and maim any vampire or demon that gets in my way. Bloke’s got to have some sort of recreation.”

    Spike turned to leave and stopped abruptly when he saw a Decrotta demon standing before him. In an instant, he felt anger coursing through him when he considered why this demon was here. A Decrotta demon feeds off of the flesh of the freshly buried dead. Joyce had been in the ground for nearly half a year and to a Decrotta demon, she would be like picking ripe fruit from a tree.

    “You don’t want this one,” Spike said trying to remain detached from the situation. “Heard this one was the mother of the Slayer and I’ll not be one to guess that you’d want her hunting you down for feasting on the body of her mum.”

    The Decrotta demon looked at Spike with black eyes devoid of any sort of feeling or emotion save maybe for all out evil. It had two small crescent horns protruding out above holes on either side of its head, which were its ears. The things nose was disproportionately large about the nostrils and had a disgusting mucus like substance coming out. Its mouth was also coated with the mucous as it curled back its lips revealing rows of razor sharp teeth that still had the fleshly remnants of a corpse it had just eaten.

    The fact that it was about to make Joyce its second or third helping made Spike all the more happier he had been here. Deciding it best to offer another choice, Spike regarded the six and a half-foot gray skinned demon, his demeanor casual. “Say, I’ll save you the trouble of having that blond vixen sniffing you out like the bloodhound she is. I’m sure there’s got to be some other grave that has a much more appealing flavor for you.”

    The Decrotta regarded the form he towered well over a foot over, and sneered malevolently. He then spoke to Spike in a deep slow voice and drawn out words. “You the friend of the Slayer? You protect her mother’s body.”

    “A friend?!” Spike said as incredulously as he could. “Oh please, we’re the most bitter and worst of enemies! I thought I’d do you a bit of a favor one demon to another. That’s all.”

    The Decrotta’s powerful arm shot out and grabbed Spike by his neck. Unable to wrench free, he looked hard into the Decrotta’s eyes, the bluff he was holding falling away. “You not friend of Slayer. You not tell Rethal who to eat.”

    At that, the Decrotta threw Spike towards a tree that he impacted hard. His path unobstructed, Rethal knelt beside the grave and with his powerful hands began to dig the dirt away from Joyce’s grave. In one swift motion, he had covered her headstone with dirt.

    Spike was fast to shake off the headache he received when he struck the tree. As he did, he saw what the Decrotta was doing. The sight at seeing Joyce’s grave being violated was all it took. Standing up, his face morphed showing the demon that dwelt within his body. His face was now in the outward appearance of the vampire; forehead rigid and deformed, eyes ablaze with fierce yellow and a quiet snarl showing two deadly fangs and rows of serrated teeth. In one fluent motion, he lunged at the Decrotta.

    So into digging for his food, Rethal failed to notice Spike until he heard his enraged roar. Looking up, Rethal had no time to defend himself as Spike delivered a well placed and a powerful kick to his face. The sheer force of Spike’s below shattered the Decrotta’s jaw and sent it to the ground. It could only look at Spike in pained confusion.

    “You say Slayer not friend. Why you attack Rethal?”

    Spike growled at Rethal as he brutally planted his foot on the demon’s chest. “The Slayer isn’t my friend that much is true. The woman in the ground, now she was my friend.”

    The Decrotta didn’t even have a chance to register the mistake he had made. His life came to a sudden and brutal end as Spike roared and snapped its neck. It was all over, but not for Spike. Though he had killed the demon, his anger wasn’t satisfied. Venting, he began to punch the Decrotta’s face to pulp.

    Buffy Summers was patrolling the streets of Sunnydale as she always did each and every night, keeping the residents safe from harm. She had long accepted her mother’s death, though it still held a bitter place in her memory. She always thought of herself as keeping her mother safe from harm. Now that was gone, though she was happy with the knowledge that she was at least able to keep her younger sister Dawn safe as well as the lives of her friends.

    She had thought she had been walking in no real direction. That thought became moot when she saw that she was standing before the gates to the cemetery her mother was buried in. Maybe it was a good thing, she thought to herself. She could slay a few vamps and say hi to her mom at the same time. Sighing deeply, she went into the darkened place of rest. She didn’t have to walk far before she heard something she recognized right away. The snarls were that of a vampire and it was beating the hell out of someone or something. Breaking into a run, Buffy took off to find the source. Her quest became desperate when she realized she was running in the direction of her mother’s grave.

    She only had to stop about ten feet away before she saw and recognized Spike. He was beating the life out of a demon; the only thing he could harm without feeling the pain from the chip inside his head. This was over kill even for Spike and though she hated him with a molten lava like passion, he was killing this demon beside her mother’s grave.

    Running over to Spike, Buffy hauled him off the more than dead demon, raising her arms to block as Spike, in his frenzy, attacked her. As soon as he did though, the chip activated and he clutched his head while screaming in pain. Shaking his head as the pain subsided to a deep and annoying throb, he prepared to yell harshly at whoever stopped him from punishing the demon that would have harmed the body of his friend. He was fully prepared to yell when he saw Buffy staring at him, cold fire in her eyes. The evening had officially gotten worse.

    “What the hell are you doing Spike?” Buffy demanded. “How dare you kill a demon beside my mother’s grave! I mean do you have any idea what kind it is or what killing it will do to the person in the grave?! Do you ever even bother to think?!”

    In response, Spike roared loudly at Buffy. “Yeah, well that’s how you sound to me,” Spike said as surprise registered on Buffy’s face. “I know bloody well what kind of demon this is and I’ll have you know I was doing you favor!”

    Spike, taking the cue from Buffy’s expression, went on. “This here is a Decrotta demon and the damn oafs feed upon human corpses; especially those in good clothes buried six feet under. He was looking to make a meal out o’ your mum and I stopped him.”

    The look on Buffy’s face was incredulous. “And you just happened to be here? At my mother’s grave when I just happened to be in the area saving her body from a demon that feeds off of death? You’re never gonna change!”

    “I didn’t know you were here!” Spike said, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of the truth. “I’ve been coming here since the night after the funeral. You know, keeping the grave looking nice; making sure there’s water for the flowers, no dirt’s mucking up the grave marker. And, oh yeah, keeping Decrotta demons out o’ the coffin. Bleedin’ Hell girl, you’re even more cold hearted than I am!”

    The hard expression on Buffy’s face softened dramatically as Spike uncharacteristically spilled his guts as to the reason he had been in the vicinity of her mother’s grave to stop the demon. It also made sense when he told her that he had been doing the upkeep on the grave. Each and every time she, Dawn and their friends visited it was always in good condition. On one occasion, the marker had been cleaned and nearly polished. All this time, she had thought the groundskeeper was doing all the work. It was a silly thought the groundskeeper only looking after her mother’s grave, but it was the only realistic reason she could come up with. The truth now before her, Buffy regarded Spike as he morphed back to his human guise.

    “You’ve been taking care of my mother’s grave?” Buffy asked, the tone to her voice now much less harsh. “Why would you ever do that? You obviously never wanted any of us to know so it couldn’t be to score points with me or any of the others. This entire situation is seriously begging of the question why? So tell me why Spike because this is the double jeopardy question.”

    Spike shrugged noticeably, as the moment became very uncomfortable. He never wanted Buffy or the others to know; that much was true. Now here was Buffy asking him why. He didn’t know what to say and so he lied instead.

    “Well I had nothing better to do with my time. Not being able to kill a human can really be a bore you know?”

    Buffy felt her disdain towards Spike resurface. She ignored it though only too aware that it was Spike’s way to deal with a situation that was uncomfortable. That being the case, she pushed harder while using a different strategy. “You had nothing better to do so you polished my mom grave marker?”

    Spike’s eyebrows lowered in anger as he retorted. “No, I did that because it was too dull looking-” Spike stopped talking and looked at Buffy, realizing what she had done and smiled in spite of himself. Shaking his head, knowing the truth was out, he went on.

    “I liked your mum Buffy. When she died, I felt bad. Worse than bad; it hurt so much I went after any human I could just so I could feel that pain in my head instead of the sickening pain only those with a bleedin’ soul ever feel. Yeah, it hurt bad and I couldn’t say anything to you about it because you know you wouldn’t believe me. The night before the funeral I came over to your house with flowers hopin’ to be, you know, supportive. Monkey-boy Xander stopped me of course thinking they were to get you to bed with me. They weren’t I’ll have you know. They were the only way I could say goodbye to Joyce. Now I have this chance to look out for her. Please don’t ask me to stop.”

    Buffy was completely speechless as Spike opened up to her. Not only was it unlike him to do that, it was more unlike him to care in the way he apparently did. He had been keeping good care of her mother’s grave and he had been around preventing a demon from defiling her mom’s final resting-place. She never asked him to, but was so grateful he had been.

    “I don’t want you to stop looking after my mom’s grave Spike,” Buffy said while stepping up towards him. “You know that you doing this doesn’t change things; I still won’t sleep with you.”

    Spiked rolled his eyes back attempting to feign that Buffy’s proclamation didn’t bother him when it was more than obvious that it did. Instead, he nodded and took a step back.

    “Thanks,” he said simply.

    Buffy cocked her head trying to figure out Spike as she saw him now when it was still caught in her memory how he had once been. It was an impossibility when he was good and evil at the same time. There was no real way to tell which he was more of so she didn’t even attempt to try. There was nothing else to say about anything. Giving Spike a slight nod, Buffy turned and left. She stopped abruptly as a question of arced through her mind. As it did, she turned back to Spike.

    “How long?” Buffy asked.

    “Beg your pardon?” Spike responded.

    “How long will you look after my mother’s grave?”

    Spike looked at Buffy with an expression that he thought was telling without having to tell. When he saw she wasn’t getting it, he rolled his eyes and explained it to her. “Do I have to spell it out to you blondie? I’m a vampire and I’m going to be around a helluva lot longer so long as I’m not getting staked. However long that takes to happen will be the only time I’ll ever stop taking care of your mum’s grave. Either that or if I find some way to get this sodding chip out o’ bleedin’ skull.”

    Buffy’s eyes widened ever so slightly showing their beautiful green. Welling up within were tears that slowly ebbed out in a crystalline like cascade that followed the pattern of her cheeks. She was quick to wipe away only to allow fresh ones to take their place. That being the case, she simply looked away.

    Spike, now even more uncomfortable at seeing Buffy cry, reacted as best he could. Just the sight of seeing her act like a normal person when she was usually Miss Hardass-no-fun-to-be-around. Spike was quick to consider that name and was just as fast to dismiss it. It may have suited her when he first met her, but not anymore.

    “I’ve changed Buffy. I’m not the same William the Bloody I was when I was all ready to suck your blood and kill all of your friends. I’m not exactly sure myself how all this came about because we both know I’m not like Angel. He has a sodding human soul, which is nothing more than a damn curse. I’m cursed too only mine is more advanced. I can be bad and good at the same time. For you, your sister, your mum and your friends; the whole bleedin’ lot of you will only see me being as good as I can. I don’t know how else to be around you Scoobies anymore. I know it’s not my place anymore but-”

    Buffy held up her hand, signaling Spike to stop, which he did. Her next action surprised them both as she walked up to him and gave him a tight embrace. As soon as Spike felt Buffy’s arms around him, he could have sworn he felt his own eyes watering but paid little attention to it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him. He could feel the warmth of her body against his indefinite cold. Her face was buried in his shoulder and so too could he feel her warm breath against his neck as it condensed in cool droplets about his flesh. He could feel the strong beat of her powerful heart as it throbbed against his still one. In all of his life, never before had he felt as content as he did now. The woman he held the deepest friendship for and felt the deepest love for he now embraced in the way he wished he could have for so long.

    Placing his hand on her head, Spike ran his fingers through Buffy’s golden blond hair, massaging the back of her head as he did so. He kept thinking that she would tell him to stop or pull away from him. When she did neither it made the feelings he was experiencing able to become words.

    “I love you Buffy. I love you with whatever this cold heart is capable of.”

    When Buffy embraced Spike, her entire being was screaming against the action. Yet, as soon as she held him, that voice was silenced as she held the man-demon who for the longest time wanted to kill her and who she yearned to slay. Now things were so very different. He wasn’t the same and no matter how she tried to deny it, neither was she. That much she had known for the longest time though she always refused to acknowledge the fact. It was in this place; a cemetery beside her mother’s grave did she finally see Spike for what he had become. It seemed appropriate to be hugging him beside her mom’s grave, as it was his caring that had brought this all about. She and Spike has some serious healing to help each other with and this embrace was the best way to begin.

    Then Spike told her that he loved her. The very thought still spooked Buffy and in spite of herself, she tensed nervously in Spike’s arms. “Damn-it,” Buffy thought to herself. “He doesn’t mean any harm.” But her actions had already been read by Spike as he very and noticeably reluctantly released her.

    “I’m sorry,” Spike said while casually wiping his eyes as though he had an itch, then quickly shaking his hand free of the tear it had upon it. “I know how much it pisses you off when I say that. Last time I did, you decked me hard in the face and uninvited me from your home. I can’t help it, no matter what I do.”

    The look in Buffy’s eyes was not one of contempt, but of kindness. She gave Spike a small smile as she regarded him. “I love you too Spike, but not that way. I love you as a friend. Can you please understand and respect that?”

    “I can’t understand it a bit,” Spike said bluntly. Then off of Buffy’s look he added: “but I can respect it if you’ll help me with something.”

    Buffy raised an eyebrow and gave Spike a wary look. “What do you need my help with?”

    Spike kicked at the dirt, digging up small clumps of grass as he did. It was like he was fighting himself over the decision he had already made but couldn’t bring himself to follow through with. He looked at Buffy and how incredibly beautiful she was; her face and how it shined in the moonlight, the delicate and incredibly strong body covered by a white sweater and a denim jacket, red leather pants and white tennis shoes. She wanted to be friends and he had to allow for that. There was only one way would be any easier for him to bear.

    Without further inner debate, Spike summoned his courage and took Buffy around her waist. With apt speed, he brought her close and kissed her heavily upon her lips. As soon as he did, he could taste what he had yearned for so long; he could breathe in the scent that had aggravated him for so long. Now it gave him something he could hold onto and remember for the rest of his life.

    Buffy knew even before Spike started to kiss her that he would eventually. It was something she had known he had wanted to do for a very long time; something which, until now, had repulsed in sickened her. This was Spike who was kissing her; a mortal enemy turned into a trusted friend and something much, much more. Something she knew she couldn’t allow to happen. Maybe if things had been different, but they never would. Or would they?

    Spike and Buffy held themselves together in a powerful lip embrace neither one of which knew for how long. It was Spike who stopped first, keeping his forehead against Buffy’s, his demeanor anything but threatening. His grip was tender and delicate as if Buffy were a tangible figment of his imagination that were he to hold it too tightly it would crumble and be lost to him forever. It was a moment he wished he could have frozen in time for it was a moment he felt he could never have again. “Fortune favors the living,” Spike thought to himself. “Never the undead.”

    “You’re trembling,” Buffy said, fighting against what she couldn’t keep from welling up within her. Holding Spike tightly against her, Buffy looked up at him and smiled. “You’ve done a lot of things that I absolutely hate you for and. . .” Buffy’s voice trailed off as she combated her feelings. Slowly, tentatively, she found her voice. “And you’ve done a lot of things I love you for. Just once Spike. We can do it once.”

    Spike held Buffy tight as his knees buckled under the weight of the moment. Buffy too followed suit as she fell to the grass. The ground felt cool against her back as she shifted her position. Spike supported himself above her, his entire body shaking as she soon discovered hers was as well. It was really happening; her only regret was that if her friends found out, they wouldn’t understand.

    Spike looked at Buffy tenderly as he traced her from her chin on down with his finger. With his other hand, he supported the back of her head. “I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Spike said through heavy breaths. “I could never do that to you. The robot yeah, but not you.”

    “I could have stopped you a long time ago,” Buffy responded. “But if we do, can we not do it beside my mom’s grave. I don’t have to tell you how weird that is. That and the fact there’s a corpse of a Decrotta demon which is a serious mood killer.”

    Spike looked from Buffy to the grave, which he quickly brushed free of the dirt the Decrotta had pushed onto it. Then he quickly smoothed and patted down the earth making it look almost as nice before it had been disturbed. He then gave the Decrotta a final withering glance growling his still lingering contempt towards it. When he looked back at Buffy, she was smiling at him. It was all it took to make him kiss her again. When he had stopped, he looked at her and proffered a suggestion. “Would you like to do it in my crypt then? I have a bed.”

    Buffy rolled her eyes as the notion of what she was going to do played out again in her mind. Slowly, she nodded as desire won out. As she did, she was greeted with another kiss; a kiss that not only made her quiver but made her yearn for more. “Damn you Spike,” Buffy thought to herself as the mammoth jaws of bliss consumed her and swallowed her whole.

    Spike kissed Buffy with nearly one year of pent-up fervor. She was welcoming him and didn’t resist in any way. In one fluent motion, he stood up with her in his arms, his mouth still connected to hers. With learned precision, he began to walk back to his crypt with the one who had captivated him like no one had ever done. What was about to happen would be a moment he would always treasure that not even the passage of time could ever hope to tarnish. The thought stayed fresh in his mind as he opened the door to his crypt with the Slayer, his mortal enemy, the young woman he adored, and closed it tightly behind him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

    Spike awoke as the first of the moon’s beams filtered through the cracks of his crypt. Buffy was gone when he awoke; in fact she had left a long time before. He was resigned to that fact, though it did nothing to lessen the pain he felt as a result of it. He could still taste her in his mouth; he could vividly remember how she felt against his body. All it was now was a memory; painfully short and always to remain as such.

    As Spike opened the door to his crypt, he looked out over the Sunnydale cemetery. This was his home, and yet it seemed so foreign to him. A place he thought he was familiar with, but never realized how it seemed he was walking for the first time into a new land. Everything about the place was strange to him such that he yearned for something to make it like it was.

    Walking out of his crypt, he decided to take a little stroll. He didn’t have to walk far before he came across Xander and his girlfriend Anya. They were friends of Buffy and so then, by default, not his. Sure they always tolerated him, but never really liked him much. That much Spike knew and accepted though it didn’t prevent him from giving a polite greeting.

    “How you two doing tonight?”

    They didn’t answer; they never did and so Spike went on. He had accepted the fact that neither of them would ever really talk to him, though it did nothing to lessen the hurt.

    Continuing on his walk, Spike came across Buffy’s best friend Willow Rosenberg and her girlfriend Tara. Willow was the best person Spike had ever met as she always had a kind word for him because it was the sort of person she was; perpetually nice. Like Tara, she was a witch and a damn good one at that. So much to the fact, that Spike paused briefly to tell her that.

    “You were always so good with the spells and the like. More than one occasion, I wanted you to perform a soul restoration spell on me; you know just to prove my worth. It’s a bit late for that now isn’t it?”

    Neither Willow nor Tara responded, nor did they regard him in any way. Sighing deeply, he walked a little further, glancing down from time to time. When he looked up, he almost stumbled as last person he thought he’d see was standing but a few feet from him. It was fitting his being here even though it had been a long time. Slowly, Spike walked up to his old friend.

    “When did you get here, Angel?”

    Standing solemnly by himself, his hands in the pockets of his black mournful trench coat, jaw clenched tightly, Angel looked down at a single grave and fought against his anguish. It had been so long ago, but he never forgot; couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. And he didn’t. It was all he had left of her now. It was all he had left of his beloved Buffy.

    His heart ached as he looked down at her grave marker; how she was buried above her mother and sister as though even now she was looking out for them. It was the way she had wanted it and it was so fitting for the gentle and fiercely devoted protector she had been. Despite his incredible sadness, Angel knew he wasn’t alone in this place of rest. He had known it when he first walked into the cemetery. He was surrounded by people he had known and a visitor from his past who was never far away.

    Angel heard Spike’s question though it sounded muffled and far away. He still understood and answered. “I just got here. I’ve been away for too long. It hurts. It hurts so bad. But her grave looks nice; almost like it’s new.”

    Spike regarded Angel, bemused that he still used that Nancy-boy hair gel, and took a step back as he prepared to tell him what he had done. “I made a promise to Buffy that I would keep her mum’s grave safe and nice looking. When Buffy died, I could only return the same kindness to her. And to her sister. And-”

    Spike’s voice caught in his throat as a lump formed. Finding it again, he fought through his now emerging sadness as he continued. “And for Xander and Anya. And for Willow and Tara. And for Giles. My sodding friends.”

    Spike half-collapsed as he sat down upon the ground and lowered his head. His grief at losing Buffy and every other who he had considered his friend was still fresh and new as though it happened yesterday. He once read that time heals all wounds; after two hundred years he was still waiting for that saying to prove true.

    Angel listened to and watched as Spike gave in to his grief. He knew about the chip in his head and what it had done to him. He had gone from a soulless monster to one that cared. Why he cared so much was unknown to Angel for the longest time. Angel was nearly four hundred and forty-five now and he knew how to read and understand someone. In those few moments he read and understood Spike.

    “You loved her too.” There was no contempt in Angel’s voice. There was only the acknowledgement between two vampires; one cursed with a human soul and the other cursed with a technological soul. Both different in how they came to be where they were, but the same in whom it had led them both to.

    “Yeah, I did love her; she loved me too though it was nowhere near what you two had. But I experienced love; true love which was something I never had before; not even with Drusilla. The memory of her is still fresh in my mind and I love her as much now as I did then.”

    Angel gave Spike a stern look, but said nothing. Instead, he looked around at the graveyard. It seemed so hollow now without Buffy patrolling the shadows. In the back of his mind, he kept thinking he would hear her come up behind him and chastise him. “Were you even going to tell me you were back in town?” he heard her say in his mind. Kneeling down, Angel kissed two of his fingers and put them on Buffy’s grave marker.

    “Say hi to Wesley, Cordelia and Gunn for me,” Angel said indicating three of his closest friends who he had lost a long time ago. Then standing up, he looked down at Spike. “I’ve said all I’m going to say to her in front of you; the rest isn’t for your ears. For that matter, neither is yours. I’m going to go visit the others. Is Giles buried here too?”

    Spike nodded at Angel’s question. “After Buffy and the others died, he went back to England and I never heard from him again. Thirty years later, he came back in a box. I heard that he never took on another Slayer and that he wanted to be buried here close to Buffy. That way, he could always watch over her.”

    Angel was pained beyond the comprehension of the word. There were so many people he needed to pay his respects to; people who were his friends. He didn’t want to be in earshot of Spike and decided to visit someone else. “Where’s Willow’s grave?” Angel asked.

    “To the east five rows over near the statue,” Spike replied with two centuries of learned precision. “Xander and Anya are four more rows after that.”

    Angel nodded and said nothing more. He slowly turned from Buffy’s grave all the while giving it a lingering look. Then he was away, walking alone with his memories of a lifetime he would give anything to have back. Maybe then, with the benefit of hindsight, he could have done something to change what happened. His mind now locked with the past, he made his way to Willow’s grave.

    Spike watched as Angel took his leave of Buffy’s grave. Slowly, he slid over beside her grave marker and traced the caved patterns of her name. As he did, he imagined in his mind that he was tracing the contours of her body. With that thought, a content feeling swept through him. Yet as it is with all content feelings, it was short lived. In a painful instant, his grief once again overtook him.

    Face morphing to his vampire guise, Spike balled his hands into fists and began to punch the ground. With each impact, he remembered the Hell-spawned apocalypse that claimed nearly every life in Sunnydale. It was that event that Buffy and her friends faced with bravery as they always did. Spike, too, fought alongside them, but even he could never have foreseen the power that was released. Those nearest the Hellmouth were killed instantly; Buffy and Willow. Those who went in after them followed next; Xander, Anya and Tara.

    It was like his insides were being pulled out as Spike recalled what he felt when he saw five people who he had been through so much with die before his eyes as the power that emanated from the mouth to Hell poured out. Only Giles and Dawn, protected by a charmed amulet, survived the initial surge. Spike, who was but a demon-inhabited corpse and so immune to the evil, saw it in Giles’ eyes at the sight of seeing his charge perish. He saw it in Dawn’s eyes too, only she had lost something much more. Her sister and the last of her family.

    Reeling from grief and anger, Spike wracked his mind as he tried to see past the haze of his sorrow. Willow was going to cast a protection spell, as Buffy would throw in a charmed medallion that had the power to close the Hellmouth for good. It wasn’t enough and now the thing, which had been enough of a lure to bring Spike here in the first place, was the very thing that killed the woman he loved.

    His face had long since morphed into the guise of the vampire, his eyes burning hellish red. Lips pursed back as he fought against his sadness, he stood from the shocked and frozen forms of Giles and Dawn and walked calmly forward. He knew what he needed to do and it was the last of many promises he made to Buffy.

    “I promise that I will look out for Dawn,” Spike said to himself as he looked at the still form of Buffy and at the golden medallion she still clutched tightly in her hand. “I promise that I will keep your grave and the grave of yours and my friends safe.” Spike kneeled down beside Buffy and took the medallion from her hand. “I promise you that for as long as I live, what you did will never be forgotten; that the name Buffy Ann Summers is spoken with respect.” Spike leaned in close and kissed Buffy lightly upon her cheek. “And I promise you that this sodding piece of crap Hellmouth will not win.”

    Roaring loudly his rage, Spike walked up to the gaping hole and peered into it. From below, he could hear the wails and the maniacal utterings from a thousand different kinds of demons all wanting to make the Earth their home again. They just picked the wrong time to do it.

    Without so much a second thought, Spike threw the medallion into the Hellmouth, seething hatred emanating from his very being. Looking up towards the night sky, Spike again roared his anger and grief running together indistinguishable. His attention so focused elsewhere, he failed to realize how quiet it had become; failed to notice that the Hellmouth was finally and forever closed. But how could he be happy when the price was so high?

    In the aftermath of the Hellmouth’s demonic pyroclastic-like surge, the city of Sunnydale, California, the epicenter for evil, was the only place to feel the full force, leaving half of the population dead. It was then concluded by certain government agencies that the cause of so many deaths was by a brief but deadly outbreak of influenza. After all assurances that the contagion had been contained, no one question what happened. Not even the three who truly knew.

    Spike spent time alone in his crypt after the deaths of those he acknowledged as friends and one he thought of on a level so much more. But she was gone now; there was nothing left of her except the memory of her, the picture he had of her in his mind’s eye and the lingering scent that permeated stronger than ever. There was nothing now it seemed for him and he felt it. He felt it as real as the wooden stake he gripped his hand. He felt it as cool as the sweet embrace of death.

    He had already died when she did, and not even the promises he had made offered any comfort. It had been nearly one month since Buffy and the others had died. In that time, neither Dawn nor Giles had visited for any reason. Before, that never would have bothered Spike, though now all he could do was yearn for it.

    He hadn’t eaten in the month; couldn’t as the site at watching Buffy die gnawed at his insides like a parasite. The pain was great; all encompassing as he tapped the stake on the bier he sat upon, knowing it would all be over in an instant with one quick plunge. Pointy end first into the heart and all that would be needed was a quick gust of wind to scatter the dust left in the wake of his demise.

    “It’s not that I’m backing out on my promises or anything,” Spike said out loud to himself. “Okay, I am, but I just can’t stand knowing that you’re not here anymore! But when I die, it’s just poof into a cloud of dust. That’s it! No more! Bleedin’ hasta la vista baby! No matter what I do, I’ll never see you again. But if you can hear me, remember that I’ll always-”

    “Always remember what?”

    Startled by the voice, Spike dropped the stake, which landed with a rattle as it bounced to a standstill. Leaping from the bier, he found himself looking into the soulful brown eyes of a young girl with long delicate hair of the same color. Spike regarded her for a moment before he issued a greeting to fifteen year old Dawn.

    “Hello Little Bit”, Spike said using his favorite nickname for her. “Everything all right?”

    “I’m fine which is a lie of course. I’ve lost my mom, my sister and four of my friends. Yeah, I’m the role model for perfect happiness. What were you talking about? What did you want Buffy to always remember?”

    Spike felt uncomfortable as he thought about his speech to Buffy in his despondent state. The stake was still out in the open and Dawn had already glanced at it and had given him a hard stare. She felt the worst of the situation and that gave Spike the much-needed insight he needed. He was in pain but it was even close to Dawn’s. So being the case, he came as clean with the young girl as he could.

    “I was just telling Buffy I’d make good on some promises I made her and such. You know, that sort of thing.”

    Dawn crossed her arms and gave Spike a look, which bore into him to the point that he could feel it. Shrugging, he looked down at his feet to avoid her stare. He couldn’t avoid her question.

    “What promise did you make?! What did you do?!”

    At Dawn’s more than apparent accusation, Spike looked up at her, his own grief melting through. His feelings exposed, he said what he had promised. “I promised her that I’d look out for you! Happy now you little twerp? Oh look, Spike has feelings! Spike actually gives a bleedin’ crap! You come in here all rot dumping on me your pissed off feelings when I already have my bleedin’ own! She was your sister and you loved her and all. She was my sodding enemy! The friggin’ thorn in my friggin’ side! The epitome of everything I loathed and despised! And sure you’d like to damn me to Hell for saying this but I loved her too!”

    Dawn pursed her lips together tightly as Spike retorted. It was by hearing what he had to say about Buffy did Dawn take pause and step back from an all-out offensive against the sorrowful and angry vampire. She knew he had loved Buffy even if it even if it wasn’t what she really need to hear at the moment.

    “I know you did. She told me what happened between you two.”

    “Uh, she did?” Spike felt his entire being cringe when Dawn said she knew that he and Buffy were intimate. It made the entire situation a little easier in a way seeing as there was no point in denying it around her either.

    “That’s all I have left of her now,” Spike said, his voice low and full of pain. “It’ll always be that way. Just me and my Technicolor memories, and you. And Giles. Where is Giles?”

    Dawn shrugged and sighed before she answered. “He went back to England; Watcher’s Council orders. I guess they have a new Slayer for him. I don’t think he wants the job though. I mean, Buffy was like his-”

    A sob caught in Dawn’s throat blocking her voice. Spike, already aware of where she was headed, finished for her. “She was like his daughter; the both of you were. Why didn’t you go with him?”

    The tears were now welling in Dawn’s eyes as she looked at Spike and responded. “I am. I came here to say goodbye.”

    Spike clenched his hands into fists, trying to keep his composure. In spite of his best efforts, his face betrayed the hurt he felt as it took on the form of the vampire. A low growl emanated from his mouth as he slumped against the wall of his crypt. He had no replies this time, his voice muted by the storm of his inner turmoil.

    Watching Spike as he morphed gave Dawn a brief and short-lived startle. Without delay, she rushed over to him and hugged him tightly. She was crying heavily now, her body wracked by the sadness at the thought of leaving her last friend who was a part of the whole who understood what the world was truly like. Vampires were real, as were other demons. She had had an older sister who was the Slayer. She had known two witches and an eleven hundred-year-old ex-vengeance demon and a witty and wise confidant she could always count on And Dawn herself was unique in her own way too. Buffy, Willow, Tara, Anya and Xander; all gone to her forever and now here she was leaving the last who could relate and the last who knew the truth about her. Dawn held Spike tighter as though her life depended on it.

    “I’ll miss you Little Bit,” Spike said as he returned Dawn’s hug. “When you come back and visit, you’ll notice that everyone’s grave will be looking all right and proper. That’s the other promises I made to your sister.”

    Dawn looked up fearlessly at the freakish but gentle face and smiled. “Thank you Spike. Promise me something too; don’t tell anyone about me. I don’t want anyone but you and Giles to know I’m the Key.”

    Spike regarded Dawn and her request. Dawn wasn’t truly human; she was living energy made into a person to keep her away from those of all out evil stature. Those who had transformed her gave her to the Slayer as her sister. Buffy had sworn to protect Dawn and so too did Spike. “I give you my word that no one ever finds out, and those who ask get killed good.”

    Dawn smiled then raised an eyebrow at Spike's proclamation. “I don’t think it should come to that even if it does. No more bloodshed because of me okay?”

    At Dawn’s decree, Spike looked somewhat put off, but kept it fairly well hidden. “Yeah, sure fine, but I’ll not make any promises about that. Some demon wants to know who the Key is means it would be all right if I kill them right? I mean, I’m going to need a hobby; still plenty of the evil things to kill round here. Makes me think that Buffy and the others are smiling; cracking the occasional joke at my expense sure, but still smiling all the same.”

    Dawn smiled as she stepped back from Spike. Her smile became inverted as she glanced down at and then picked up the stake. She regarded him carefully as she tucked it into the sleeve of her sweater. “It’ll be harder to keep your promises if you dust yourself. Make me another promise that you won’t; I don’t want to lose any more friends.”

    Spike looked at Dawn’s grave; his face long since reverted as the storm of his emotions ebbed slowly away. His last time he saw and talked to Dawn Summers a fitting memory he was happy to have. She didn’t come back to Sunnydale for a long time, living in England with Giles as her guardian. Spike thought he caught wind from one of the new Slayers that there was a new watcher named Dawn, but he couldn’t be for sure seeing as how he was so far out of the loop. When she did come back, it wasn’t just to say hi. It was to die.

    “It was hard to recognize you at first when you came back,” Spike said to Dawn’s grave. “You were all proper looking and had a Brit’s accent. It was the happy-go-lucky look in your eyes that made me realize it was you.”

    Spike sighed, taking in a deep breath which served little purpose save for attempting to quell the memory that surfaced next. The memory that Dawn had returned to Sunnydale because she had terminal cancer. It was a brutal ironic fate that it was a brain tumor; the same mortal fate that had claimed the life of her mother.

    Spike remembered how devastated he had been when he learned that at only thirty-four years of age, his Little Bit was going to leave him too. “How long do you have?” Spike remembered asking. “Not much more than a couple months” was the reply that still haunted his thoughts. It was the worst homecoming that Spike in all his two hundred and thirty-three years had ever known. Pain he was familiar with, but nothing so acute as the pain of losing another friend.

    “I stayed with you at the hospital,” Spike said to Dawn's grave. “You were asleep when you died, but I was there with you Little Bit. I was with you then. I’m with you now, and I’ll bloody well be with you in the future. I’ll be there for all of you. I promise. You’re all my family.”

    Spike stayed with the graves for how long he didn’t know. He had talked about how empty Sunnydale was now that the demon population had thinned due to their being a noticeable lack of an all-omnipotent Hellmouth. He talked about the many dozens of Slayers he had met; some of which understood and left him alone, some of which sought his help, some of which wanted to slay him. It was a gamble each time a new one was called, but he owed it to Buffy and the others that he would honor their memories and forever ensure that none of them ever died in vain; that their lives were always remembered.

    Spike stood up from the ground, brushing the dirt off his coat as he did. Looking around the cemetery, he sighed and took a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He very rarely smoked anymore not that he was trying to quit. It was difficult to get a decent bit tobacco in the twenty-third century seeing is how most major companies had folded. There were just too many of those hokey truth commercials.

    “It’s a good thing we still got a black market,” Spike said to no one but himself. Lighting a cigarette, Spike took one last look at the graves of Joyce, Buffy and Dawn and smiled. “See you all tomorrow.”

    Slowly, Spike walked away, taking in a drag as he did. Behind him a shimmering silhouette began to take form. Beside that form another appeared. Then another and another until there were eight silent standing silhouettes. The ghosts of Buffy, Joyce, Dawn, Giles, Xander, Willow, Anya, and Tara slowly took on the near solid shapes of the people they had once been. They watched Spike leave, smiles of profound happiness upon their faces. He had never known that they were there, that they heard every word he said to them. Smiling fondly at the maverick vampire, Buffy spoke to him knowing that he couldn’t hear her, but hoped that he could at least acknowledged her words.

    “Thank you Spike. Thank you.” Throughout the cemetery, there was a warm and pleasant breeze.

 

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