Epilogue

’now the sun's gone to hell
and the moon's riding high
let me bid you farewell
every man has to die
but it's written in the starlight
and every line on your palm
we're fools to make war
on our brothers in arms’
- “brothers in arms” by dire straits

The sky on the horizon had already gotten a slight orange tinge. The sun was about to rise in a little less than an hour.

Spike sat on the roof of the building next to the old boarding school, his legs dangling over the edge. He had dug up the half-empty bottle of scotch again, being on his best way to finish it. And this time, he got a definite buzz going.

“How are you doing?” Buffy stood behind him, leaning against the door that lead down to the stairwell.

He didn’t even turn around to her. “I don’t know.” He took a sip from the bottle. “Weird.” Another sip. “And I’m drunk. Definitely gonna regret that one in the morning.”

The Slayer sat down next to him, looking down the building for a moment and how her feet dangled over the edge as well. “So… I talked to Willow.”

“Yeah?”

“They don’t know anything for sure yet but… rumor has it that this tattoo of yours saved your butt.”

“Translated into a language that I understand this means…” he made a gesture, motioning her to explain.

“The texts said that it would require one with a life to spare to take the Fates down, right?” she explained. “Apparently, the demon inside you… was enough. The Helm of Awe you have tattooed on your back seems to have protected the rest of you.”

“So they just… took my demon?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds a little too easy if you ask me.”

“We’ll look into it.” Silence fell between them. It was a weird, uncomfortable silence. “So… how are you doing?”

Spike stared down onto the street for a long while. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “It’s been quite some time since I had a heartbeat. Trying to get used to that again.”

“Figures.” Buffy nodded though she really didn’t know what to say. This was probably the weirdest conversation she ever had.

“I have something for you,” Spike said after a moment. He reached beside him, producing a pile of letters, tied together with simple string.

“What’s this?”

“When I was… away I wrote you a bunch of letters. Never… I never had the guts to send them but… now I thought you should read them.”

Buffy took the package from his hand, fumbling with for a moment. “Thanks.” Her voice was quiet with a slight touch of irritation. She hesitated a second before she spoke. “I got something for you, too.”

She reached into the backpocket of her pants. From her fingers dangled a silver chain, a Celtic cross at its end. “I guess that might be of use to you now.”

The former vampire held out a hand, letting Buffy drop the jewellery into his palm. “You think a Celtic cross will to the job?” He eyed her questioningly.

Buffy shrugged. “If an Asatru tattoo can ward off the wrath of some Greek goddesses…”

“Guess you’re right.” Spike slipped the necklace over his head, looking down his chest at the pendant. “And if not, it still does look good on me.”

Again, silence fell.

Spike took a deep swig from the bottle, coughing at the hot sensation the alcohol left in his throat.

“Buffy, will you marry me?”

She stared at him in utter disbelieve. “What?” And as if it explained it all away, she added, “You don’t even have a valid driver’s license.”

He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Well, now that I’m human I thought I’d give it a shot.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Yes. Yes, I will. I also want to have your baby.”

Spike almost spat out the scotch he had just drunk. “What?”

This time, it was Buffy’s turn to shrug. “Well, now that you’re human I thought I’d give it a shot.”

He laughed at that. And it was the first time she ever actually heard him laugh just like that. A full fledged, wholehearted laugh.

“That was awfully tacky. Even for my standards,” he said when he had calmed down again. He squinted at her, a smile still tugging at his lips. On his own accord, he held out a hand to her. She took it with no hesitation.

“Well, you know what they say,” she said, running her thumb lightly over the back of his hand. “Once a poet.”

He snorted a little laugh, giving her hand a light squeeze.

“Always a poet.”





fin.




A/N: And here it comes to an end. Just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who read my little story, and especially those who took the time to comment. Some questions were answered, some will remain unanswered. For now. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did while I was writing it. If you did, let me know and tell your friends about it ;) Thank you guys so much *smooches*