Subject: [SpikesSalvation] Normal's A Place in Illinois- Epilogue Date: Wed, 26 Nov 2003 16:23:00 -0800 (PST) From: Jerusha Hancock Reply-To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com Epilogue "No longer mourn for me when I am dead/ Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell/ Give warning to the world that I am fled/ From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:/ Nay, if you read this line, remember not/ The hand that writ it; for I love you so,/ That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,/ If thinking on me then should make you woe./ Oh, if, (I say,) you look upon this verse/ When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay,/ Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,/ But let your love even with my life decay;/ Lest the wise world should look into your moan,/ And mock you with me after I am gone." ~William Shakespeare It seemed that Buffy would get her wish, even if Spike never received his. He had promised her forever, and he hadn't left her side. But Spike had never asked his Slayer to stay with him for always. He had known that it was a promise she would not have been able to keep. Perhaps he had always known, because it seemed that over the years he had built himself a living safety net for this day. Giles stood next to him, his hair almost entirely gray at this point, his face deeply lined. If anything, the Watcher was even more devastated this time around than he had been the first. Spike was still trying to decide if it hurt more the first or the second time they'd buried her. In some ways, it was easier now. Made easier by over ten years and three little words. In other ways, it only made him miss her more. He was in good company though, he knew. Not only was Giles there, but also Xander and Anya. They had chosen to leave their little one at home. He'd been born only a year or so after he and Buffy's Joyce. He and Xander had actually become friends at some point along the way, maybe even good friends. Willow had come as well. She had remained single, the only one of the Scoobies to do so. What relationships she had tried had ended either sooner or later, but she had poured her time and her love out on all their families. The service was over. Spike wasn't sure why it had been so important to have a real burial service. He had been Anglican once upon a time, and so Buffy had had an Anglican service. The vicar had been both understanding and sympathetic, and had willingly decided to perform the graveside service. He and the rest of the Scoobies had held the wake. The others began to drift off, back to their own homes, or to his. He felt a gentle hand on his arm and looked over to see Dawn. She was dry-eyed, having shed all her tears earlier. "We're going back now. Are you going to stay?" "Yeah, last night and all that." A small hand tugged at his. "Are you coming home, Papa?" "In a while, moppet. I think I'll stay here for a bit." Spike touched his daughter's fine hair. She looked like her mother—and her grandmother. "You're going to protect mummy's grave from the bad men," she stated in a sure tone. "It's called Vigil. Willow told me." He smiled sadly at her. So quick, so perceptive. So precious. "Yeah, little luv. I'll be home by morning." He looked up at Simon, who held a sleeping Liam in his arms. Joyce was ten, old enough to understand what had happened, but little Liam was barely six. Spike breathed a prayer of thanks for Dawn and Simon, who had been there constantly, despite their own pain. "Come back when you can, Will," Simon said quietly. "We'll watch over the kids." It was hard to believe that Simon and Dawn had been together for almost as long and he and Buffy were. They had "taken a break" briefly after they'd graduated high school, mostly because they'd decided to go to different colleges. However, one semester had them both at UC Sunnydale, and they hadn't been separated since. In fact, Dawn was due to have their first child in another few months. Buffy had wanted to be there for that. Spike nodded shakily. "Thanks." He watched as they left, and then stood there as the sun set, memories of their time together flooding his mind. He remembered when she had told him she was pregnant with Liam. She'd insisted they were having a son, and then had insisted on calling him William, Liam for short. Nothing Spike had said could convince her otherwise, so he'd finally given in, rather ungraciously. So he'd been named William Alexander Benton. The first time he'd held his son, he'd cried, as he had with their daughter. Buffy told him then, as any number of people had said to him later, that Liam was his spitting image. He'd never told anyone but Buffy that not only did his son look like him, he acted like him. At least, he acted the same way a very young William had, before life had broken him to pieces. The way Spike had been broken, before Buffy put him back together. "Hello, William." "Angel." The old vampire stepped out of the darkness to stand beside him at the fresh grave. "How are you?" "I've been better. I haven't killed myself or anyone else yet, though." There was a pause, and then Spike said quietly, "I'm sorry we couldn't have the funeral at night, so you could be here. Apparently, they don't do that in Sunnyhell." Angel's lips twitched at the old name. He still wasn't terribly fond of Spike, but he'd grown used to him over the years. Buffy had told him about her and Spike not long after she'd become pregnant. He'd come down for the wedding, and then later after their first child had been born. He'd made himself scarce after that though. Losing Connor had made it that much more difficult to watch Spike with his own family, to know what he'd done, what he'd given up in order to have them. He had gone to the ends of the earth and beyond, and he had gotten his reward. Looking at the grave, however, made Angel wonder what kind of reward it had been, to have her, and then lose her. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Me too." "How did it happen?" he asked. Spike hesitated, and then replied, "The kids needed a sitter and she wanted to go out on patrol. She told me to stay behind and watch them. She worried about me, y'know. Should have bloody well been with her." "Perhaps you both would be dead if you were," Angel replied, offering absolution. The two stood silently then for the longest time, as the moon rose and set and dawn stretched its thin fingers into the sky. Angel was about to announce his leaving when Spike spoke again. "We're the last, you know." "The last what?" Angel asked, his tone faintly amused. Spike turned to face him. "The last completely screwed up vampires," he replied. Rolling his eyes, he amended, "The last of our family, you git." "Oh." Angel wasn't sure what to say in reply to that. He figured on coming to Sunnydale, saying his farewells, and never coming back. He didn't have any thoughts of recovering any kind of family. Spike's hand was gentle on his arm, and Angel wasn't sure he ever remembered them being gentle with one another. "It hurts, I know, to lose what you've always wanted and never really could have. But Buffy loved you, in her own way, you know." He very nearly smiled at the shock on Angel's face. Perhaps it was ten years and two kids with her that had enabled him to say that. "You haven't met Liam yet. Why don't you come back with me? Kids would love to see a friend of their mum's." Angel stared at him. "You've changed." "She put me back together." Angel sighed and looked at the rapidly lightening sky. "She was like that." "C'mon, mate," Spike said, putting an arm on his grandsire's shoulder. "You can catch a few winks on the couch before the moppets are up to pester you." As Spike led him back to the house on Revello Drive, he couldn't help but realize that he was still doing what Liz had taught him, what Buffy had shown him, all those years ago. He was still putting people back together, still offering comfort. And he would continue to do so until he was dust beside Buffy. There were a lot of ways to save the world. ---------------------------------