A Love As Strong As Death
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Everyone knows that not all these characters are mine, and I'm not making money off the ones that are. So there.
Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, ask and it shall be given to you.
Summary: Set after the end of Cast Me Not Away and its follow up stories. This sequel is longer and darker than the intervening short stories. It deals with family, children, immortality, life and death, and making amends. We will also be jumping around in time a bit, so look sharp.
A/N: I debated for a long time before writing this one, although the idea was there before I even finished CMNA. Some of you will believe that I have ruined the previous stories, which is fine. All I ask is that if you're unhappy with where this goes that you'll go back, re-read Cast Me Not Away through Silver Bells, and then you can flame me if you'd like. I'll calmly pull out the fire-extinguisher and ignore you, but that's alright. The themes have been there; I just hadn't quite managed to elaborate on them yet. (Oh, and before anyone screams Nika, Wesley, Spike and Buffy will survive. More than that I won't promise.)
Chapter 28: May 2017
Hannah didn't think a day—or a week—could get much better. There was the part about seniors not having to take finals, which meant that while last week had been a flurry of papers and projects, the next couple of weeks were all downhill. She wouldn't be graduating valedictorian, but she was close.
Actually, Hannah was fairly relieved about that part. She had no desire to give a speech at the graduation ceremony.
The next couple weeks were all about saying goodbye, hanging out with friends, signing yearbooks, and that sort of thing. As the final year drew to a close, Hannah was finding that she had more admirers than she'd previously imagined. People who hadn't been willing to brave the wrath of the football team to befriend her were going out of their way to write encouraging messages in her yearbook.
She and Sam had laughed about that, both of them amused by the fickle crowds.
And Sam was going to UCLA. Even though he assured her it
wasn't completely due to the fact that she was going to be there, Hannah knew
that was a big part of it. He was actually involved with her training
now—Wesley was teaching him simple self defense maneuvers, and it turned out he
had a magical gift of his own. Not a big one, nothing like
The papers finalizing her adoption had come through a few days before, and they'd all gone out to dinner to celebrate. It had been a perfect evening with a family she'd never thought she would have. Hannah now officially had two parents and three younger siblings.
How freaking cool was that?
This evening just seemed to put things over the top, seemed so perfect as to overshadow anything that might come in the future. Hannah knew that if she never had another good day, this last week could carry her through the rest of her life.
The knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie, and Hannah turned. "Come in."
Nika stepped through the door and smile. "Oh, cariad, you look beautiful." She came to stand behind the girl, so that they were both reflected in the mirror. The dress revealed Hannah's curves, as well as her toned arms and shoulders, in a way her regular clothing rarely did. Her pale, creamy skin was in sharp contrast to the dark blue material that shimmered under the lights, and her fiery hair had been tamed into a mature chignon.
Hannah smiled into the mirror. "It's like a dream."
"Every woman needs a night like this," Nika replied softly. "I had such a night when Wesley asked me to marry him. It was perfect, and that's what this shall be for you. Although I do hope you aren't thinking of marriage quite yet!"
She giggled. "No, but Sam's already talking about how great dating in college will be." Hannah sobered slightly. "Nika, I think I love him."
"He is a wonderful young man, Hannah. I'm not surprised." Nika turned her. "You are coming back here afterwards?"
Hannah smiled ruefully. "While our classmates might be getting hotel rooms tonight, neither one of us wants to tell the world that we're sleeping together. It's just so cliché."
Nika raised her eyebrows. "That and Wesley or Spike would beat him to death."
"There's that, too."
"Hannah! Sam's here!" Will said, sticking his head through the door. He stopped cold when he caught sight of Hannah. "Wow," he said reverently.
"How do I look?" she teased.
"You look really good." His tone was wistful, as only a young boy can sound when pining after an older girl.
"Tell Sam I'll be right there," Hannah said, smiling at him. Will stayed stock still, staring at her for a moment longer, before dashing off. "I think that's my cue."
Nika kissed her on both cheeks. "Have fun tonight. We'll see you at breakfast in the morning."
Hannah went to meet Sam, who was waiting for her with a corsage and a nervous expression on his face. "Hey."
"Hannah, you look—" He stopped, at a loss for words.
It was like the two of them were the entire world for a moment. She let him put the elastic of the corsage over her wrist, and then—with a charm and grace she hadn't known he possessed—Sam placed a kiss on the back of her hand. "I think I'm going to be the luckiest guy there tonight," he said.
Hannah blushed and murmured a thank you, and then the world rushed in again. There were pictures that Nika insisted on taking, and then a flurry of goodbyes. Then, of course, they had to do it all over again, since Sam's mom had insisted they come by so that she could take pictures as well.
As much as Hannah loved them all—and really liked Sam's family, who were all about as normal as anyone could get—she wanted him to herself. This was their evening, and it was slipping away like sand in an hourglass.
Renna and Cal snapped their own pictures when they stopped by, and Sam's younger brother stared at her in much the same way that Davey and Will had. Then it was done, and Sam rushed her out the door and into the car, heaving a sigh of relief to match her own. "I thought we were never going to get out of there." He grinned at her, the same one that had softened her up considerably. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be," she replied. Now that it was over, Hannah could afford to be magnanimous. "They're good people."
"They really like you," he replied.
Hannah smiled. "Wesley and Nika really like you too."
"You hungry?"
"Starving," was her reply.
The restaurant they ate at was nice, although not fancy. She
saw a number of other couples from their school, all going out before the
dance. She was grateful to have a table to themselves, away from everyone else,
where they could talk about her slaying, and his self defense lessons, and her
upcoming tests this summer in
It was different, having a friend her own age who knew about the other world she inhabited. It was better.
When they got to the dance, that feeling of being the only two in the world had returned. Both of them returned greetings absently, focusing only on one another. As they danced, Hannah thought that she would never love anyone else the way she loved Sam.
Maybe that was just the way first loves worked.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice low.
Hannah tilted her head up. He'd shot up another three inches over the last few months, and now her head only came up to his shoulder. "I'm thinking that I love you."
They'd never spoken the words to each other before. "I love you too."
"Do you think we can always be friends?" she asked. "Even if..."
"Hannah," Sam said quietly, "you introduced me to a world I never believed existed. Even if something happens—which it won't—you'll always be the girl who came riding to my rescue."
She smiled at him. "Most guys don't like that."
"Yeah, well, most guys aren't liberated like I am," Sam retorted. "Trust me, after you get shoved into a locker a few dozen times, Joan of Arc looks pretty damn good."
"Is that how you think of me?" Hannah asked. "She got burned at the stake, you know."
Sam pressed a kiss to her lips. "Joan was a hero," he replied, "but she didn't have anyone to watch her back the way you do."
"Very true," Hannah sighed, and laid her head on Sam's shoulder as they continued to dance.
It was after one before they got back to her house, whispering and laughing, drunk on each other's company. They had no plans for going to sleep, but instead fully intended to put a movie on and then spend the next few hours making out.
They were surprised when they found Will waiting up for them.
"What are you doing up?" Hannah asked in a whisper.
He looked embarrassed and defiant at the same time. "I wanted to see you guys when you got in," he replied. "And I couldn't sleep."
Hannah and Sam exchanged looks, and for a moment Hannah had every intention of sending him back to bed. Sam just shook his head, his face soft. "You want to watch a movie with us, Will?" he asked in a tone that suggested Will was a friend, not a pesky little brother.
The boy's face lit up. "Can I?" he pleaded, looking at Hannah, sensing that she was the one he needed to convince.
"Sure," she said. "I'm going to get out of this dress first." The innuendo passed right over the boy's head, but Sam had to stifle a laugh. "Get your brain out of the gutter, Samuel."
By the time she got back in sweats and a t-shirt, Sam had removed his jacket and tie and was sitting on the couch listening intently to a story Will was telling. The younger boy was almost glowing from the attention, and Hannah suddenly knew that Will would be okay. Sam's attentions would go a long way towards soothing the wounds that his peers had inflicted, and with any luck, this new school would be better for both him and Davey.
She plopped down on Sam's other side, leaning against him when he put his arm around her. The night had turned out to be absolutely perfect after all.
Or it would, as soon as Will dropped off to sleep and she got to make out with her boyfriend.
~~~~~
"So how was it, pet?" Spike asked several nights later as they patrolled. "Good?"
"Perfect," Hannah replied with a happy sigh. It had been a quiet evening with just her and Spike. Buffy had been coming with them on a regular basis, but she'd had a rough week with the morning—and afternoon and evening—sickness, and so Spike had insisted his wife stay home.
It was nice, though, just them with the cemeteries quiet. It was more like going on a walk with a good friend.
"That good?" Spike asked. "I'm glad, Sweet."
Hannah was quiet for a moment. "We've talked about marriage." Spike looked over at her, shocked, and she laughed a little. "We probably wouldn't even get engaged for a year or so, but—" She sighed. "I know we're really young, Spike, but I don't know how much time I've got."
He stayed silent, knowing that she had a good point. Even though things were different now, Buffy had been the one to take care of the bulk of the emergencies over the last three years since Faith had died. Buffy or Connor, anyway. He and Angel had done their parts, but things were different now.
Hannah was old enough, and well trained enough, to be on the front lines, and that's where she would be.
"If you're still together in a year, that would make sense," Spike said finally.
Hannah took a seat on a tombstone. "I never thought it could be this way."
"What do you mean?"
"Life. That it could be good." Hannah met his eyes. "I'm not saying I have a death wish or anything, but if I died tomorrow—it wouldn't be so bad. You know what I mean?"
Oddly enough, Spike did. "You mean you've got no regrets."
"Yeah," Hannah agreed. "I'm happy. I can remember thinking that I'd never be happy, and now I am."
~~~~~
Hannah's words echoed in Spike's mind long after he'd dropped her off at Wesley's. He stood in the darkened living room of the house he and Buffy shared and thought about what the last fifteen years had brought him.
Love, children, mortality—all things he'd given up on. Things he'd had no right to expect. He'd been a monster, and Buffy had loved him anyway.
She loved him now as a man.
It was a priceless gift.
"Spike?" He turned to see Buffy standing on the stairs. "Are you coming up?"
He smiled. "Yeah, luv. Just got in."
"What were you thinking?
"Just about what a lucky bastard I am." He stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing at her, the expression on his face much like it had been so long ago when she'd come back from the dead. Buffy couldn't help but agree with his words, although she felt as though she was the lucky one. Death had not killed Spike's love for her, nor had her anger and violence. Time had not altered it, nor had the daily struggles that life so often threw at them.
Spike was her bedrock—just as she was his.
"Not as lucky as I am," Buffy replied, holding out her hand to him. "Come to bed?"
"With you? Always," he replied with a familiar smirk and followed her up the stairs.
When they came together that night it was in celebration of all they had built, of the new life they had created, of the life they would continue to share. They had managed to build a love that would endure long after they were dust. Spike could not regret the immortality he'd given up in order to have this—the chance to leave something of himself behind, the chance to grow old and change, and be a part of the rhythms of life that he'd once put behind him.
The opportunity to be with Buffy through this life and beyond.
Spike was completely content. He finally had a love that would last.