a/n This has been hell to write and even worse to revise and despite everything, many thanks to my betas, any mistakes are my own and they should not be blamed. The support I got for this story made me feel so good, I can't thank everyone enough. I am truly sorry for the delay in updating RL and computer trouble made writing tricky.


Sunnydale, minutes after the jump.

Pain. Overwhelming and all consuming. Worse than anything he ever felt before. Nothing could be worse than seeing his golden warrior jump to her death. How could she quit like this? His fault, it was his own damn fault. He failed her, couldn’t protect the Bit, couldn’t stop this from happening. His own apocalypse, his worst nightmare. The end of his world. Nothing else mattered but the fact that because of him, she was dead. God, it hurt so much. It felt like his whole being was being shred to pieces, like his unbeating heart had just stopped once more and it was being pulled out of his chest. Choking on his own tears, dying by inches, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, drowning in the pain. Worse than Glory’s torture, worse than Dru falling all over her “Daddy”. How could the Powers let something like that happened? How could they let someone so pure die? What a failure he was. Love’s bitch till the end, even if right now it was starting to look more like fate’s bitch. He thought he was the one who would die tonight, not his glorious Slayer. Was it his punishment? The result of his years of killing? Was this a way to tell him that he was fucked up? Just tonight, she had invited him back into her house and now, she was dead. That wasn’t even remotely funny of the Powers, it was downright cruel to everyone. Why? How could this ever make sense?

In a daze he pulled himself to his feet, not even conscious of his own wounds, and managed to make his way to her body. She looked so small, so beautiful. He fell on his knees, unaware of the tears that are streaming down his face, blind to everything but her body. He never felt Dawn coming toward him, and he jumped when she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Spike, the sun is coming, we have to leave.”
“Why? Nibblet, why?”

Her own tears were choking her as she looked at them, her sister and her protector. One dead, and the other one clearly dying in front of her eyes. Trying to hold on Buffy’s last speech, trying to be strong for once and hoping she can convince this broken-hearted vampire that being outside at sunrise is not a good option.

“Please Spike; come with me, come home, I can’t do this alone. I need…”

Remembering the promise he made to Buffy, he dragged himself up and slowly managed to pick her body up. Seeing the look in his eyes, no one stopped him, knowing that this was something that they couldn’t refuse him and that if they tried, Spike would probably killed whoever was daft enough to try. They all realized that in the state he was in, he would just ignore the pain from the chip and just lash out at anyone who would dare come between him and the body of the Slayer. And because no one could ignore the pain that was so obvious in the blonde’s eyes, all of them grudgingly had to admit to themselves that despite what they had all believe for so long, Spike’s love for Buffy was greater than they ever thought possible. He looked like a dying man, and though they saw his efforts to look calm, he was breaking in front of them.

“Let’s go home Bit.”

Once they reached Revello Drive, he stood before the door of the house where he had been re-invited in just hours earlier and the pain once again consummed him. Seeing the pain on his face, Dawn gently opened the door and tugged him inside. Still carrying the lifeless Slayer, Spike made his way to her bedroom and gently placed her down on her bed. Looking up at Dawn, he asked her

“Dawn, could you get me something to wash her up?”

Without saying a word, the girl made her way to the door and came back with a bowl filled with hot water and a washcloth. Silently she handed them over to Spike, who was still looking at the body laid out on the bed. Tears still falling down, he gently cleaned Buffy’s wounds and putting the bowl on the nightstand, he climbed in the bed beside her and curled up around her body. Seeing that he had no intention of moving, Dawn simply left the room and closed the door behind her.

When Spike could sense that Dawn was gone, he raised his head and looked at Buffy, his hand slowly combing through her hair. A new wave of despair crashed over him. Never again would he see her fight, hear her snip, smell her skin, feel the heat of her skin. Heat…wait a minute, she was warm, she shouldn’t be warm, she should be cold, not warm. As these thoughts swirl through his head, he felt himself fall and for once, he didn’t fight it, willingly embracing the darkness.

But the darkness was soon replaced by images and feelings, so powerful, so painful, he couldn’t understand them. Nothing made sense in what he was feeling and seeing. So much pain when he thought that he couldn’t feel anything worse after tonight. He had to be hallucinating, how could this be real. But yet he knew. Not knowing how, he knew what he was seeing, and the sheer weight of it was crushing him. Once again, he was drowning for her, in her, because of her. How could her friends do this, how could he? At that moment, knowing what could be, only one thing is clear in his mind.

He would get his soul no matter what. This horror in the bathroom would never happen, and just the thought that it could was devastating. Ashamed of himself for letting her die, for failing her, for hurting her, for leaving her. He swore to himself that he would try harder, that her sacrifice would not be for nothing. How could he do anything else when she was everything. Her pain, her loneliness, her confusion is washing over him, filling him up until there is nothing else. His own pain was washed up, leaving place for hers. And gladly, he took her pain as his own, hoping to bring her a measure of relief. Opening his eyes, he looked into hazel eyes, and in them found his peace.