Afterlife

Dawn felt a slight sense of panic rise up inside her when she heard his voice calling her name. She moved swiftly to the stairs, trying to think of a way to break the news to him and knowing that what she had to say was going to make an impact on him most of all.

She’d seen him suffering all summer, seen that the reason he wouldn’t leave her side was because of something that had passed between him and her sister. She knew in her heart that he would have died that night with Buffy had it not been for a promise he’d made.

Now she was going to be the one to give him back his reason for living, or as close to living as he got.

And she didn’t know how to do it.

Spike slammed the door hard, knowing it was the only way to emphasise how angry he was with her.

“Thank God.” He ground the words out as he looked up the stairs at her. “You scared me half to death… or more to death.” Pointing at her, he narrowed his eyes and tried to convey just how pissed he was. “You… I could kill you.”

“Spike.” Dawn said calmly as she quietly descended the stairs, still searching for a way to break the news to him.

“I mean it. I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brain stem.” Spike frowned as he realised something was up. Dawn seemed different, less bouncy and eerily calm as she continued down the stairs towards him.

“Look.” She turned and looked up the stairs, her air becoming slightly anxious as she watched her sister.

“Yeah?” Spike did as instructed and looked up. “I’ve seen the bloody bot before. Didn’t think she’d patch up so…” He trailed off as he realised that what he was seeing wasn’t the robot, it was the real thing. He could hear her unsteady heartbeat as she walked towards him, could smell the delicateness of her scent, could almost feel the sweet softness of her breath and found himself lost in the eyes that he’d never thought he’d look into again.

Staring at her as she descended, he felt as though she was walking down from heaven rather than the first floor. He couldn’t bring himself to believe the vision that was standing before him.

Was it really her? Was he dreaming?

It couldn’t be a dream. His dreams hadn’t been this good since she’d gone. They’d been nightmarish visions of what he’d done.

It was her, standing there, tentatively looking into his eyes but not looking straight through him like she usually did. There was something different about her, something that smelt like fear and looked like she was contemplating falling.

He just hoped he’d be there to catch her this time.

“She’s kind of… she’s been through a lot… with the… death.” Dawn tried her hardest to sound steady, but her nerves were alight and she didn’t know what to make of both her sister’s and Spike’s reactions. “But I think she’s okay.”

As she looked at Buffy, her sister turned her face away and then looked down at her shirt.

Buffy felt suddenly exposed. She was standing in front of Spike and looked far from okay. Her clothes were a mess, her face was a mess, her hands were a mess. Concentrating with all her might, she tried to button her shirt but gave up halfway through and wrapped her arms around herself instead. She was in no state for Spike to see her.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her the whole time and it made her feel incredibly self-conscious. She wanted to look okay, wanted to alleviate the hint of worry she’d seen in his blue eyes. It was well hidden behind the warmth and affection he was feeling on seeing her alive, but she could see it there all the same.

She knew him too well to know he was only feeling happiness. There would be other emotions at work inside him, fear of losing her again, love, devotion, anxiety that she wasn’t as okay as Dawn said she was.

It made her feel slightly better to know that he was holding these feelings back for her benefit, showing her only a fraction so he didn’t overwhelm her with them.

“Spike. Are you okay?” Dawn gave him a worried look but he didn’t take his eyes off Buffy.

He looked mesmerised.

“I’m…” Spike started but couldn’t find the words to express the multitude or magnitude of the feelings inside him. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Dawn looked sheepish. “Nothing.”

Spike was surprised when Buffy’s eyes found their way back to his and he cocked his head to the other side as he noticed her hands. Her delicate little hands were bloodied and beaten.

“Her hands.” He nodded towards them and frowned as Buffy hid them behind her back, her body language becoming uncomfortable.

“I was gonna fix’em.” Dawn looked at her sister and then at Spike. “I don’t know how they got like that.”

“I do.” Spike said calmly as he looked at them. “Clawed her way out of a coffin, that’s how. Ain’t that right?”

He let his eyes meet Buffy’s again, but she quickly looked away, clearly uncomfortable over being reminded of what she’d had to do in order to avoid the certain death of being trapped inside her own grave.

“Yeah.” Buffy avoided his eyes as she swallowed hard. “That’s… what I had to do.”

“Done in myself.” His tone was sympathetic as he looked at her. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that she was really back. It felt as though he was waiting for the scene to shift and he’d be faced with her fall from the tower and realise that all this was a dream. Narrowing his eyes into a tender look, he thanked whatever power for bringing her back to him and then shook his head as he realised they were waiting for him to say something. She was waiting for him to take control, and he couldn’t let her down this time. “Um… we’ll take care of you. Come here.”

Holding his arm out to her, he gently touched her shoulder and guided her towards the lounge. As she walked past him, he looked over his shoulder at Dawn.

“Get some stuff. Mercurochrome, bandages.”

“Okay.” Dawn took the instruction and headed off.

Buffy sat down on the couch and waited as Spike seated himself on the coffee table opposite her. She kept her eyes fixed on her hands as he gently placed his under them, slowly raising them up as he looked at them. Raising her eyes, she let them meet his and there was something nice about how sitting with him made her feel.

“How long was I gone?” She asked as he looked into her eyes and she didn’t flinch away like she used to. Seeing his feelings for her didn’t scare her anymore.

He paused for a second.

“One hundred forty seven days, yesterday. One hundred forty eight today. But today doesn’t count, does it?” He almost smiled.

Looking down at her hands, he hesitated as he searched for something to say. It felt as though she was reaching out to him and it was imperative that he give her the opportunity to open up and talk.

“How long was it for you?” He let his eyes meet hers again and she was the one who paused this time.

“Longer.”

She almost flinched as the tranquillity surrounding her was shattered by the entrance of her sister and her friends. A din filled her ears and before she knew it, Spike was slipping away. Her hands were suddenly empty, his no longer held them, and she didn’t take her eyes off him as he disappeared from sight.

The feelings she’d felt when Spike was sitting with her slipped away with him and she wanted to reach out to him, wanted to call his name and bring him back in the hopes that he’d bring back those feelings with him.

She had felt peaceful, calm. She cursed her friends and their loudness, they were pushing, surrounding her and making her feel as claustrophobic as she’d felt in her grave. She wanted to battle through them, smash them apart and break free to the sweet silence of the night.

There was something about being alone with Spike that made her long for his return. It was as though the tables had suddenly been turned and now he was the only one not pushing her or rushing her, that place had been taken by her friends.

He was just letting her find her own pace.

He was the one being silently supportive.

Just when she needed it most.


It had been a day since her return and he still couldn’t get a grip on his feelings. Twenty-four painfully slow hours had ticked away. Twenty-four hours in which he’d had no rest. Twenty-four hours in which he’d asked himself a million questions. Twenty-four hours in which he’d found no answers.

His head was splitting, his eyes were sore and he was certain that he should probably eat something. Since Buffy had passed on, he’d been off balance, his whole world had felt like it had fallen off its axis and was spinning backwards.

Now she was back, he didn’t know how to feel. Was he supposed to be happy that Willow had brought her back? Was he meant to believe that there weren’t going to be repercussions for using such powerful magic? He wasn’t stupid. He knew that a spell that could give life to the dead was going to be the kind that evoked the blackest of magic. Willow was treading on dangerous ground.

But what did he care? Buffy was back. Sweet, beautiful, Buffy. He should be thankful for her return and not mar it with worries about the way she’d come back to him.

No, not to him. She didn’t come back to him. Her friends brought her back.

She would never have chosen to come back to him.

She’d had no choice.

Turning sharply, he threw his fist hard and fast at the ragged stone wall, hoping a little pain would bring him the distraction he needed from his thoughts. Looking down at his hand, he laughed hysterically as he saw the deep cuts on his knuckles but felt no pain.

He was about to hit the wall again when a noise echoed in the crypt above. Sliding the knife from its hiding place in the cabinet, he moved silently towards to steps that led up into the crypt and ascended them. He stopped breathing as he slipped quietly into the room and crept towards the intruder.

When they came into view, he was stunned, the breath he was holding came out in a sigh and he recounted what he’d thought a few seconds ago.

Had she come back to him after all?

“Buffy.” He spoke her name with intrigue and she turned slowly to face him, her expression empty as she made no apology for just walking into his home.

She seemed uncomfortable about being found by him for a moment and then gradually raised her eyes to meet his.

“You should be more careful. You never know what kind of villain’s got a knife at your back.” He moved the blade in his hand so it reflected the pale moonlight at her, trying to cover his feelings with bravado and failing miserably when he saw that she didn’t care.

She looked as though she’d welcome the knife in her back.

Suddenly her expression softened slightly and the tiniest of concerned frowns flitted across her features.

“Your hand is hurt.” She said quietly, her voice solemn as she looked at his knuckles.

“Hmm.” Spike looked at them as though he’d only just noticed and then nodded towards her, angry inside that no one had seen to them like they should have. “Same to you.”

Buffy looked at her scraped hands and then hid them behind her back as she felt awkward. “Right.”

Spike felt the conversation ebb away and tried to think of a way to bring it back. He didn’t want her to leave this time. He wanted to get her to talk to him because he could see that no one had taken the time to try and draw the poisonous feelings out of her that he could see in her eyes.

Moving across the room, he placed a little distance between them, trying to give her some space and hoping that she wouldn’t leave. Placing the knife down, he turned back to face her and was relieved to see she was still standing there, watching him. She was so different, so withdrawn but at the same time she seemed to be reaching out to him.

Why him?

Was it because of what he’d said? Because he’d had to claw his way out of his own coffin, or was it because he was being quiet when everyone else was being noisy? The silence of the grave was hard to overcome. When he’d made it back into the world, it had seemed so loud and overwhelming. Peace had made it bearable, and the night offered that in spades.

“Willow’s getting pretty strong, isn’t she? Bringing you back. It’s hard to get a good night’s death around here.” He went to laugh but her expression remained unchanged. She was just looking at him, as though she was waiting for him to read her mind and say the right thing to bring her back to the world. Willow had brought her body back, but from where he was standing, she still wasn’t wholly in there. He’d never seen her so distracted, so unfeeling.

So scared.

Was it him she was scared of? Or was he mistaking silent anger for fear? Had she come here because of what he’d failed to do?

If she had, he could at least take steps to remedy that and explain.

“You can sit down.” He gestured. “Got furniture. You should see the downstairs, too. It’s quite posh.”

Buffy sat down and placed her hands in her lap. She listened to the crickets singing in the darkness outside as Spike moved across the room to her and she again got the feeling of tranquillity. Being here with Spike felt like being alone, but not being alone at the same time, and it gave her a sense of comfort she was missing at home.

Back there, they were pushing and shoving her, never giving her a seconds peace as they tried to ‘help’ her. Here, in the still of the night, she was being offered peace in the unlikeliest of places. Spike had changed so much but so little at the same time. He was still the same man he’d been when she’d left, but there was something more about him now. She felt as though she could trust him. He offered her such a confidence that she wanted to tell him everything, wanted to alleviate the weight on her chest and her mind.

Was it Spike who had changed, or was that her?

Spike sighed as he sat down opposite her, taking her silence to mean that he had been right and she was angry with him for some reason. No, not some reason. She was angry with him for a good reason, a damn good one.

He’d failed her.

Buffy caught the dejected look in his eyes as he seemed to search for something to say. She wanted to help, but couldn’t find her voice yet, couldn’t find the courage to reach out to him in case he didn’t reach back.

“I do remember what I said.” He started.

She could see in his eyes how cut up he was about things and she knew what was hurting him. The look on his face made her want to offer him comfort. His expression seemed like a mirror to her, reflecting all the feelings she’d locked deep down inside her and hid behind a blank mask.

Only he was showing his.

“The promise.” Spike managed to raise his eyes to meet hers again. “To protect her. If I’d have done that… even if I didn’t make it… you wouldn’t have had to jump.”

She remained silent, letting him get the things that were eating him up inside out in the open and hoping his disclosure would give her the strength to open up too.

“But I want you to know I did save you.” He said with a small smile, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. “Not when it counted, of course… but… after that. Every night after that. I’d see it all again. I’d do something different.” His voice broke slightly as he thought about the countless times he’d saved her since she died. “Faster, more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways.”

Buffy watched as his eyes dropped to rest on the floor and it felt as though the atmosphere had suddenly become heavy along with them.

“Every night I save you.” He whispered and then tentatively met her eyes again.

She could see all the hurt in them. There was so much pain, so much suffering and she could see it all. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she let the words escape her lips in the faintest of whispers.

“Save me now.”

Spike cocked his head to one side as he caught what she’d said. He frowned questioningly, trying to discern in her eyes just what she needed saving from.

“What’s wrong, Buffy?”

She noted that he kept calling her that. Gone were the pet names, the terms of endearment. She was Buffy now. What had happened? Had he stopped loving her? No, she’d seen in his eyes and his actions that he still loved her as much as he used to, if not more.

“I… I can’t be here.” She frowned and dropped her eyes to the floor, feeling uncomfortable as she slowly peeled away the layers and tried to bare her soul to him.

She wanted the words, wanted the comfort and the warmth they would offer her, but she couldn’t ask him, not after all she’d done to push him away.

“Why not?” He asked her, wondering if it was her way of saying that it felt wrong to be in his crypt with him.

“I don’t belong here… not anymore.” Buffy eyes widened slightly as she stared unseeingly at the floor and then at his boots. He was so close. She was reaching out as far as she could, but she knew she had to go that little bit further in order to reach him and by doing so she’d lose her balance and fall.

And that’s what it took.

He’d taken that fall when he’d told her that he loved her. He’d taken that fall so many times and each time she’d refused to catch him. Now she wanted to be the one to fall and she was scared that he’d repay her for all those times she’d let him come crashing to the ground by not catching her like she so badly needed him to.

“You belong here… you belong any place that makes you feel safe, secure… I can leave if it would make you feel better.”

“No.” Buffy interjected vehemently and was surprised at the strength she’d put into saying that one little word. It seemed to change everything between them and when she met his gaze again she knew he’d seen that something was definitely wrong. “Please, Spike, stay.”

She knew she didn’t have to plead him in order to get him to remain with her, but she wanted to show him just how changed she was. She wasn’t going to order him any more. She wasn’t going to treat him as though he was an animal. He was a man, and deserved respect from her. If that meant saying please or thank you, she could deal with that.

Spike didn’t know what to say so he just waited to see if she was going to tell him why she was here and what was on her mind. He’d seen in her eyes last night the feelings that were still lingering in them today and he knew that they weren’t going to go away. She needed to talk, and it appeared she’d chosen him to be the one to listen to her.

She trusted him above the others.

Buffy rubbed her arms and sighed. “It’s cold.”

Spike looked around the crypt and then frowned as he brought his eyes back to her. “You’re not talking about the place, are you?”

She shook her head. “Everything seems cold and hard. It’s all too bright, too noisy. Here is quiet, peaceful. Last night was like that…” She looked uncomfortable again for a moment and then pushed through it. “When you were with me, in the lounge.”

“Which reminds me.” Spike said as he stood and walked over to the box that was sitting next to the fridge. Rifling through it, he produced some bandages and antiseptic. He knelt in front of her and was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t try to move away. “Give them to me.”

Buffy steadily did as he instructed, bringing her hands out of hiding and laying them in his. She couldn’t believe how gentle he could be with her. It was as though he was frightened of breaking her, or it might just have been the love he held for her.

She winced and hissed through her teeth as he dabbed the deep lacerations on her knuckles with the ointment and then decided that she needed to keep talking, if only to take her mind of the physical pain by bringing back the force of her emotional hurt.

“Everyone’s being too noisy, huh?” He beat her to speaking and watched as she nodded slightly, her expression similar to a small child that had fallen and hurt itself. “It gets better. It was like that for me at first, too. The night offers a moments respite from the noise of day, that’s probably the peace you’re feeling.”

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t the night alone that was offering her peace, it was his company too. She hadn’t found peace out in the cemetery. It was only here with him that she felt calm and tranquil. The world seemed to hurt less when he was nearby.

“I don’t belong here…” She started again, her eyes following the movements of his hands as he carefully cleaned her wounds. “…There’s a demon hitch hiker thing, it’s followed me through. Willow is looking into it. She said she’d call if she found something.”

“That’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?” He decided not to play with her and made it clear that he could still read her like a book. “What’s wrong? I’ve not been to Hell lately…”

“Neither have I.” Buffy said the words deliberately slowly so she wouldn’t have to repeat them.

It took Spike a moment to get what she was saying. She hadn’t been to Hell. Then where had she been? Before he could ask her, she was talking again and he got the feeling that it wasn’t so much that she wanted to tell him, it was more like she needed to tell him. The only way to ease the pain a touch was to have someone share it.

“I wasn’t in Hell… wherever I was… I was happy, Spike.”

He let the words sink in and knew what she was thinking. If she hadn’t been in Hell, and had been happy, then surely it had been Heaven she’d been admitted to on dying.

“I was done, complete, no loose ends to tie up or regrets… I was happy… I felt loved and I knew that everyone I loved was going to be okay.” She let her eyes meet his briefly and then drew them away again for fear of him seeing more in them than she wanted to reveal at that moment. “Now I’m back… and everyone is telling me how wonderful it is to have me back, that this is the most important thing in the world… that I’m back… and I can’t tell them, I don’t have the words. Tell me what happened, Spike.”

Sitting back on his heels, he looked into her eyes and struggled to find the words. What did he tell her? He’d seen it the moment she’d looked into his eyes. She wasn’t happy here. She didn’t want to come back. She’d had no choice.

They’d made her come back, because they couldn’t live without her.

“You must have had something do with…” She started but the way his eyes grew dark made her stop.

“I had nothing to do with this.” He ground the words out hard enough to get it through to her just how angry he was, not with her but with her friends for having the audacity to tamper with such powerful magic. “You know how I feel about magic, about you… no matter how much I was hurting, I’d never risk you… I’d sooner love a memory.”

She fell quiet as he dropped his eyes to rest on his knees and then made a big deal of gathering the stuff he’d brought out to fix her hands. Looking at them, she saw he’d finished patching her up and she realised that what he’d said was true. She’d known in her heart that if he’d been aware of what her friends were up to, he wouldn’t have let it go ahead. She just needed to hear him say it. He loved her too much, so much that he wouldn’t let his feelings blind him into presuming she was in a hell dimension. He’d seen her body, buried her with the others, and he would have known that her soul would make it to a good place.

Spike moved back to his previous position of balancing on the edge of the cabinet beside the television and looked at her. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t figure out what it was she wanted him to say.

So he went with his heart.

“Buffy, love?” He gave her a small smile as she looked up at him, some of the warmth returning to her face as she heard what he’d said. “I meant what I said. I’d rather love the memory of you than do what they did.”

She just looked at him.

“I don’t know the words, love, don’t know the right thing to say.” His tone became desperate as he looked deep into her eyes and tried to search out the answer in them. “But I want you to know… I’d never do anything to hurt you, and I’ll do anything to help you. Anything. I can’t deny I’m glad that you’re back, but seeing you like this… knowing what’s happened to you… I can’t bare it.”

She watched the single tear as it slid down his cheek and closed her eyes. She didn’t want him to cry for her. She didn’t want his sympathy or consolation. She wanted him to give her a reason to live again. She needed him to show her that the world wasn’t all sharp points and pain.

She needed the words.

“God, I can’t do this…” She furrowed her brows as she felt her own tears beginning to well up and wondered if all this had been a mistake.

“Yes, you can.” Spike moved to kneel in front of her again, ducking his head so he was looking up into her face and she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “I won’t let you fall again, Buffy. I’ll always be there to catch you. I love you.”

He reached a shaky hand out and was stunned when she didn’t flinch away. She seemed to lean into his touch as he gently caressed her cheek.

Opening her eyes, she put to memory the warmth his words gave her, storing them up for the times she needed them most, the times he wasn’t there to say them over again. She frowned as she caught sight of his hand again and let her look turn solemn again.

Had she done that? Was it thinking about her and what her friends had done that had driven him to hurt himself?

She didn’t even think about what she was doing. She just reached down and took hold of his hand, raising it up and ghosting her fingers over his knuckles. Taking up the remaining strip of bandage, she gently wrapped it around his hand and tied it off.

Spike watched as she ran her fingers over the white gauze and then smiled into his eyes.

“Now we’re both a little better.” She said as he smiled back at her and she could see that he was reading into just like she’d wanted him to. They were both hurting a little less both physically and emotionally.

“Takes time to heal.” Spike said as he let his eyes follow the slow motion of her fingers against his skin.

She just smiled serenely.

Spike frowned as a buzzing noise caught his attention. He looked around the crypt and then at Buffy. “I think you’re buzzing, love.”

He felt cold as she took her hand away from his and the warmth his skin had gained for a brief moment drifted away.

Buffy flicked her phone open and listened to Willow on the other end. When she closed it, she looked at Spike and then at their surroundings.

“Turns out the demon isn’t so much a demon as a creepy side effect. Willow is trying to find it so she can make it solid.” Buffy slipped the phone back into her pocket.

“Then what?”

“Then I’m meant to kill it, or it kills me. Whoever wins gets to remain here.” She slowly stood and looked down at him where he was now kneeling at her feet. She sighed and closed her eyes briefly as she thought about having to return to the world and leave Spike. “I have to go.”

“Want me to walk you home?” It was a long shot but he hadn’t been able to stop the words from leaving his mouth.

Buffy nodded almost imperceptibly.

Standing up, he followed her out of the crypt and into the night.


She hesitated for a moment and then pushed the door open, almost sighing as she was greeted with silence. Looking around for any sign of her friends or Dawn, she was thankful when it looked as though she was the only one home. She stepped aside and let Spike in, closing the door behind him and then biting her lip as she tried to think of something to say.

She shivered.

A quiet noise stole her attention away from Spike.

“What was that?” Spike looked up the stairs and Buffy motioned for him to stay put as she checked it out. He watched her walk up the stairs and then listened hard when she disappeared from sight.

A few moments later there was the sound of something breaking and Buffy’s muffled voice. He took the stairs quickly, not slowing down when he reached the landing and moving swiftly towards the source of the noise.

Rounding the corner, he recoiled slightly at the sight of the spectre and then went to intervene when it moved to attack Buffy again. Something inside stopped him, something at the back of his mind that whispered the words that Buffy had said to him.

She had to kill it, or it had to kill her.

He knew that this was her fight. She had to do this alone so she could take the first step on the path to recovery and prove that she wanted to live. If this world was too hard for her to live in, she’d let the demon win.

And he wouldn’t stop her.

He watched on, not breathing, as she fought the demon and as it grew solid, he could see in her eyes that she wasn’t going to give up the fight.

As she cut the demon’s head off, he let out his breath and closed his eyes as relief washed through him.

Buffy dropped the axe and turned to look at Spike. She knew that in part he was responsible for her decision. Had she not had a chance to speak to him before she’d been faced with the choice to live or die, she knew she would have done completely the reverse.

Life was hard.

But she knew that with Spike by her side she could find the strength to make it through the day.

Stepping towards him, she took a deep breath and then let a true smile curve her lips. She continued to smile as he read her eyes clearly and saw the things she’d been trying to hide from him for so many months.

Spike brushed his fingers against her cheek and let his fingertip trace the curve of her jaw as he looked into her eyes, seeing all her feelings for him in them.

“Promise me… you’ll catch me when I fall.” She moved a little closer to him.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as her hand slipped into his and he held it tightly, tight enough to show her that he was never letting her go, not ever again.

“Always, love, always.”

~*~ End ~*~

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