From the window of his darkened house, Edward Hubbard, the old cemetery caretaker watches the petite blonde follow the winding path through old headstones and crumbling monuments to long dead loved ones.  The gates have been locked for several hours but he does not wonder how she managed to get inside.  He’s no fool.  Having worked in the same cemetery for thirty-five years he’s seen things that no one, save a few fellow caretakers, would believe.  She’s not the first young girl he’s seen wandering this hallowed ground nor will she be the last.  Unlike the others, however, she does not seek out the undead creatures.  If one approaches her during her nightly visits, she will not hesitate to kill him, but most vampires have learned to avoid the far northwest corner of this particular cemetery.  That is her corner.

 

A flash of movement catches Hubbard’s attention.  A lithe man with shockingly white hair follows some distance behind the blonde.  It is obvious that he does not want to be caught.  As they pass near his cottage, he momentarily considers calling out to warn the woman.  The love and adoration so evident on the man’s face prevent Hubbard from leaving the safe confines of his house to warn his lovely visitor.  Seconds later the duo disappears from view.  Many times his curiosity has driven him to tag behind the young woman, but always stops when she reaches her corner.  Her whispered words are too soft to hear and the grief marring her lovely face makes him feel guilty for intruding on an intensely private moment.

 

Abandoning the window, Hubbard returns to his muted television.  The program has always been one of his favorites, but tonight neither the witty dialogue nor suspenseful plotline hold his attention.  His thoughts are with the blonde guest and her handsome shadow wondering what put the spark of life in woman’s normally haunted hazel eyes. 

 

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Reaching the part of the cemetery that she’s grown to think of as hers, Buffy pauses at the first headstone and places a single rose at its base.  There are a dozen bright red roses in a crystal vase next to the headstone.  A diamond solitaire ring is tied to a ribbon around the vase along with several hundred-dollar bills.  Buffy smiles at the reminder of Anya and her love of capitalism.  She lets her fingers drift along the cool granite as she moves on to the next headstone and again places another rose on the soft grass.  There are numerous flowers and herbs already there undoubtedly left by Willow.  Buffy murmurs a quiet prayer for the young Wicca who at times had been more of a sister to Dawn than she had been.

 

At the third headstone, she bows her head and places two roses on top of the angel statuette.  Though she and Dawn had argued over the figure, she’d eventually seen the logic behind her younger sister’s argument.  Their mother was an angel constantly watching over them and guiding them, hadn’t she learned as much during her own brief stay in heaven?  “Sorry I can’t stay, Mom.  I’d love to talk to you, but tonight I need to talk to him.  I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promises, voice thick with emotion.

 

The fourth marker is over a century older and the engraved sentiments are no longer as readable as they once were.  It makes no difference to Buffy; she knows each letter by heart.  She lovingly traces the words as she kneels beside the tombstone. 

 

“In the three years I’ve been coming here, I never once stopped and talked to you.  I left flowers, yeah, but never talked to you the way I do to Mom or Tara or even Anya.  I’d like to think it was because I was still too mad at you to form words, but that’s not really it.  I was scared, still am as a matter of fact, of actually admitting you were gone for good.  I have something important to tell you so I guess I’d better start at the beginning.

 

Willow and the rest of the coven felt the pull of energy in L.A. the day of your big fight against Wolfram and Hart.  Andrew finally ‘fessed up about you being back.  I was standing in line waiting for the plane to board when the call came from Angel.  He said that once again there was only one vampire with a soul.  Yeah, I know, kind of an odd way to put it but that’s Angel.  King of Cryptic.  I was so mad at you that day.  How dare you keep a little thing like returning from the dead a secret?  You may not have believed me those last few minutes, which don’t think I’ve forgotten about buddy, but I meant every word.  And just when I think I’ve got you back, you’re gone again.

 

 After that I went on this whole big research spree.  It probably would have made Giles proud if he hadn’t been too busy worrying about me ruining his precious books.  I wanted to learn everything I could about William the Bloody.  I won’t lie to you… ha!  Bask in the novelty of that for a moment.  Okay, basking moment over.  There was some pretty gruesome stuff in there that was definitely stakeworthy.  Had you still been around it probably would have earned you a punch in the nose or two.  Then again if you’d been around I wouldn’t have needed to read the old Watcher’s Diaries, now would I?  Eventually it all led me here to you.  Except, you’re not really here are you?  Sometimes I can feel your presence though.  Kinda stupid, huh?

 

It gave me an idea though.  We lost so much in Sunnydale, so many things we couldn’t take with us.  I realized one of the things I missed most was stopping to talk to Mom or Tara while patrolling.  Plus you seemed kinda lonely all by yourself in this huge corner.  Xander was a little reluctant at first, but Dawn and Willow were all for it so now we’ve got Anya, Tara, and Mom right here along with you.  Of course, their graves are empty, too, but hey, on the plus side no holes to dig.  

 

Dawn’s doing good.  She tries to stop by whenever she’s in England, but she hasn’t had a chance to visit in a few months.  She’s part of the Council in Rome.  Has a new boyfriend, too.  He’s the son of a former watcher so they have that whole bit in common.  She still misses you a lot.  Went through this whole punk phase for about a year.   I gotta tell you, it’s not all that easy finding Sex Pistols cds in Italy.  Fortunately she’s outgrown that now, though I’m not sure if this phase is any better.

 

The others are all right.  Xander ran off for a while but came back and helped Giles rebuild the Council.  He’s even a watcher now.  Willow and Kennedy broke up thank God.  Kennedy’s out in Japan training the slayers there and Willow’s here in London with the rest of us.  I moved back here right after Dawn graduated from high school.  She didn’t need me any more and it just didn’t feel like home.   Giles loves his new position as head of the Council.  It took some time, but we’re getting back to where we were before all that badness in Sunnydale.  Though he’s not too happy with me right now.  Every time he sees me it’s glasses cleaning and irritated muttering.  Ah well, same old Giles.

 

Which brings me to why I’m here.  Dawn’s grown up now.  She’s got this great life in Rome with her friends and Tony.  And Angel?  He’s a great friend and will always be in my heart but I’m not a starry-eyed sixteen-year-old anymore.  It really wasn’t working out with the Immortal.  For a while I thought it was me, you know.  That somehow I’d forgotten how to love… yeah, I know.  Been there, done that, learned that death was my gift.  And I know I’m just bursting with love; only problem is I have no one to give it to.  Willow came up with the idea after I told her about my problem.  It seemed a little out there at first, but she assured me that it would work.  Don’t ask me to explain it.  I don’t understand how the earth magic and mystical forces work.  Something about a person’s impression being left upon the earth and their essence being part of… ugh, never mind.

 

The point?  I’m having your baby.  Don’t quirk your eyebrow at me like that.  I know what I said and no I haven’t been drinking.  There was some herbs, some chanting, some really icky orange liquid I had to drink and poof magical pregnancy.  Though going by the morning sickness, I’d say the rest of it is going to be fairly normal.  Even though I can’t have you back, I have a piece of you to love and cherish and somehow it makes everything more bearable.

 

I miss sparring with you.  I miss patrolling with you.  I miss your snarky comments and your annoying bluntness.  I miss knowing you had my back no matter what.  I miss seeing you, smelling you all blood, whiskey and tobacco-ey.  But mostly I just miss you.  I love you.  And don’t you dare say that I don’t or I’ll kick your ass.  Yeah, not so scary when you’re already dead, right?

 

I’ve got to go now.  Giles may not be pleased with the pregnancy, but that hasn’t stopped him from acting like a mother hen.  I’ll be back tomorrow, same as usual.  You know I loved you once.  I love you stronger everyday.  And I wish you were here.” 

 

Roughly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Buffy stands and gives the headstone one last long look.  A whiff of an achingly familiar scent tickles her nose bringing fresh tears to her already bloodshot eyes.  Pressing a trembling hand over her still flat stomach, she turns and races out of the cemetery never seeing the figure standing a few feet away tears shining bright in his cerulean eyes.  “I love you too, pet.”

 

TBC