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| Sooner or Later, Part 4 of a series, cont'd |
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| "So, you said you were supposed to spend the day like it'd be your last. What'd you do?" "Eh, you wouldn't believe it anyway. So, how's the Nibblet?" "Good. She's had a tough adjustment, but she's getting there. But you're not going to change the subject. What did you do?" This might be too much. Coming out to a club full of strangers was one thing. This was entirely different. "Well...I'm only tellin' you this 'cause I love you an' am helpless to deny you...anythin'...." She looked up at him expectantly, not blinking at his use of the 'L' word. "But none of the other Scoobies can know." She nodded gravely at this stipulation. "You ever heard of a poetry slam?" Her lips twitched violently as he described his exploits, and a little bit of the story behind them, but she mastered what was clearly the urge to laugh her head off, instinctively realizing that while this seemed a bit silly and trivial to her, it was clearly a big deal to him. This sensation of empathy for Spike reminded her that she would once have jumped at the opportunity to mock a vulnerability in him, and she was deeply ashamed of that other Buffy, hash and cruel, that lived inside her. She renewed her vow, yet again, to keep that malicious Buffy in check. "You once said you'd always been bad. You were lying, weren't you?" "Like a rug." "Hmmm." "What?" "Just wondering what you were like." "Dreamy. Useless. Naive. But it's your turn. I wanna know 'bout your life this year, and Dawn, and...the rest of them." She sketched out the generalities of life for her in Rome, admitting hesitantly to doing a rough imitation of Parris Hilton "without the skank factor", out to the clubs every night, indulging in a bit of hedonism. Then, there were her trips to London to indoctrinate those new Slayers who had agreed to come and learn about their collective calling. "Giles had to change that 'one girl in all the world' speech...he's still working on how it should go now. But he seems to feel useful again, and it's really good to see. For a long time, I didn't really see how badly he wanted -- needed -- that. I suppose that's why some of his decisions in that last year were so wrong...because he was trying too hard." When Spike made no reply, she mistook his silence for irritation at the reminder of the Giles-Wood conspiracy, and attempted to make amends. "I mean, I don't excuse what he did...tried to do--" "Luv, I've not always been known for my sound decisions. I never said I didn't get where he...where both of 'em were comin' from. Just said I'd defend myself permanently if I ever had to again. I don't 'xpect it'll be an issue here on out, eh?" "No, I think he gets it now, finally. I remember Willow being all 'everything really is connected' at him when we talked it all out after. He was pretty stunned when he realized you were the key to the whole thing. They all were, really." "So, Dawn's good, Willow and that pushy bint are still a thing, whatabout Xander 'n' Anya -- they seemed to be dancin' about the idea of makin' up fer good?" "Oh...." Her voice was small and her eyes grew cloudy before she told him how Anya had died, too, and that Xander had been a much subdued version of himself most of the time since then. Spike stared straight ahead out the window, thinking how wrong it seemed that she'd not had the chance to really be happy. Helluva bird.... They talked about the day of the battle, and of incidentals of life since then, until the sun was slipping into the far horizon, and they exited the vehicle and walked slowly to the edge. They were quiet then, for some time, each re-living countless moments they had passed here, moments that seemed to linger in the air about them like spectres. At some point, Spike realized that Buffy's hand was in his. How'd that happen, he wondered. And who initiated it? But he decided that it didn't matter that much, and gave her fingers a squeeze. She returned the gesture, and he felt her mood shift and intensify. She turned to him, mouth open to speak, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips, and a rumble barely more than a whisper, "Shhhh, Slayer...we should finish wi'them before we deal with us." She nodded and turned back to the gloom of the ruins. As they stood, struggling for how to honor their fallen, another set of words came to Spike out of the past that seemed apropos, so he offered them up into the still air: ...we cannot hallow this ground...It is...for us the living, to be dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain... And they breathed the names of their lost comrades into the cooling dusk. |
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