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Epilogue
 
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Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to it are no creation of mine.

Author’s Note: Much, much thanks to Slaymesoftly, who’s made this fic decent and presentable, and who’s been very supportive. Also, again thank you to those that have nominated Seven Days in the ‘Lie to me Awards’, ‘Burst into Flame’ Awards, ‘Fang Fetish’ awards and ‘Spark and Burn’ Awards. You’re all so wonderful to me. ^_^
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Dark. It was suddenly so dark.

There was no flickering of flames from joined hands or candles. When Buffy moved her hand across the bed, she couldn’t feel the ashes she was expecting. Everything around her was nothing but a collection of dark shapes blurred by her tears. She had been weeping silently, and hadn’t even noticed the change around her until that moment. Her body still trembled with grief, but she sniffled and wiped away the tears as best she could.

Fumbling blindly, Buffy reached for the nightstand. The light was even harsher than the dark, and she looked away from it. When her vision had cleared enough, the cheap motel room with ugly carpet and stale sheets greeted her. It was so different from the room she had been in before. There was no feeling of home.

The sound of slow late night traffic outside the hotel was what first alerted her to the fact that the world outside her window was no longer empty. Next, it was Dawn’s snores in the next bed. She swallowed hard, controlling her breathing as best she could. The last thing she needed to do was wake her sister with sobs.

Buffy rose from the bed and padded across the stiff, worn-thin carpet. She paused just long enough to look down at her sleeping sister. For Buffy, it had been a week since she’d last seen Dawn’s face.

She locked herself up in the bathroom. Buffy could only wipe away the tears. She couldn’t stand to look at herself in the mirror.

The empty bathroom only reminded her of what she was missing. The past week came rushing back to her in full Technicolor. Her body was still trembling with grief, her lips were still bruised from Spike’s kisses, and her body still ached from their constant lovemaking. If she closed her eyes, she could still see his loving gaze before he was consumed in flame. She was also sure that she would dream of his deep voice, reading her poetry.

There was a thud against the wall. Buffy jumped, wiping away more of her tears, as if they were a guilty secret. Another thud came, then another. The squeaking of an old bed springs was heard next, then finally the noises of the two lovers joined together in the next room.

A chill went up her spine as more memories assaulted her. She remembered how good his cool skin felt on hers after he’d gotten her all hot…her skin tingled as she recalled the nibbles, the licks, the bites…his tongue stroking her flesh, his cock pounding into her body until her legs could only move to shake…

He was gone. His cool skin would never sooth her, he would never make love to her, and never gaze at her in complete adoration again…What hurt Buffy the most was the fact that she had absolutely nothing to remember him by. They had done the impossible for one another, they had faced insurmountable odds, and spent seven days loving and healing. It surprised and hurt her to know that despite everything they had done together, she didn’t even have so much as a picture. There was nothing to show that they had been together, that they had loved one another.

Leaning forward, Buffy attempted to steady herself with the wall to keep from collapsing. When the cool tile touched her hand, she hissed in sudden pain.

Pulling her hand away from the tile, she peered down at it. On her palm, and all across her fingers were fresh burns. Her eyes widened. She quickly opened the door, stepping out of the bathroom and standing in front of the large mirror over the double sinks.

Buffy’s hair was a mess, and her face was red and blotchy. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. She raised a hand to the mirror, and saw the fresh burn reflected back. There was also a red mark on her neck…she pushed her hair aside, and saw the twin puncture marks of Spike’s bite.

Her eyes wide, Buffy brushed her fingertips gently over the mark. There it was…the proof her heart had been yearning for. She smiled through her tears.

Suddenly, the pain was gone. The insurmountable sorrow wasn’t weighing her down anymore. There was a bittersweet ache of loss inside of her, but the weight of guilt and desperation was gone for the first time.

She moved back to her bed. She stopped just long enough to look back at her sister, and smiled sadly. Buffy knew what her sister had thought of Spike…and knew that their relationship had never been the same after hearing what had happened that night from Xander…Despite her affection for the vampire, she had viewed him through a child’s eyes. She had seen him as cool, with his bleached white hair and black leather. She had never regarded him as the dangerous vampire that he was. Dawn had seen him as her protector during the summer Buffy had been gone, never taking into account how many girls her age he had killed. Then, after things fell apart, she had seen him as her sister’s slightly insane ex-boyfriend, who lived in the basement. She had been trying to figure out whether or not she should forgive him, never taking into account the impossible odds he had overcome to become something better, something more than he had ever been before.

Buffy lie on her own bed, watching her sister sleep. “I wish you could have seen him, Dawnie…really seen him…” A tear joined the others on her cheeks, but she wiped it away. “He was so beautiful.”

Turning over, she stared at the side of the bed that had been Spike’s. She knew that he had never occupied the bed in her hotel room, but the back of her neck still tingled from his presence, her hand still burned, and her heart still felt him all around her. Her hand moved outward, brushing over the spot on the bed that was deceptively warm.

“I miss you…”

Her heart flooded with a warmth unlike anything she had felt before. The burdens of the past had been laid to rest. She had given her heart completely, and despite the pain, she didn’t regret a moment of it. Her life ahead was full of much smaller hurdles, and she could just begin to imagine what it would be like. Her sister and friends were safe, and their paths were clear. She was hurt, but she was alright. Buffy would live, she would love, and she would dance with her lover watching over her, always.

“Rest well, Spike.”

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~~Sleep oh darling our Storm has passed,
dream of it all your life
though our dreams might only come briefly true
they last long after we die

Sleep, my Ocean my River my Rain,
safe in the Earth that loves you
rest my Hunger, down on the seafloor
till I return to wake you
I will return...~~

- Louisa John-Krol, ‘Seagiant’.
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Los Angeles
Offices of Wolfram and Hart.


“Yes, we are,” Angel told his crew. “We’re going to change things. We came to Wolfram and Hart because it’s a powerful weapon, and we’ll figure out how to wield it.”

“Or kill ourselves with it,” Wesley said.

“Yay, team,” Fred added flatly.

“No, sooner or later they’ll tip their hand, and we’ll find out why they really brought us here.” Angel picked up an envelope from his desk, determined to get to work immediately. “Meanwhile, we do the work...our way, one thing at a time.” He ripped open the envelope. “We deal…” he watched as the amulet he had given to Buffy tumbled from the package in his hands and hit the floor. “…with whatever comes next.”

A bright light flared from the amulet, then nearly exploded with black dust. A gust of wind sent the papers of Angel’s desk flying. The dust circled over the amulet, rising more and more until a skeleton could be seen in the center, hand raised in defense of it’s skull. Muscle formed on bone, expanding and finally showing the full shape of a man. The sound of someone crying out in defiance and pain could be heard just as flesh began to cover exposed muscle, then black clothing and white hair completing the figure.

The wind was gone, and the ashes were gone. Spike stood in the office, doubled over and breathing hard. He squinted, looking around him in suspicious confusion. The faces he saw certainly weren’t what he expected. “The hell…?”

“Spike…” Wesley was the first to speak, obviously stunned.

“Spike.” Angel’s furious voice followed.

A blond head poked into the office. “Blondie bear?”

Spike looked from one to the other, wide-eyed and beyond confused. “Have I gone on tour, or somethin’?”

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Final Note: ‘Seven Days’ was originally meant to be a short, one-shot fic. When I first thought of it, it was going to end with Buffy saying her goodbye. The entire idea of the fic was to put Buffy, Spike, and their hectic and eventful relationship to rest in a way that didn’t leave regrets or lingering doubts.
I have, obviously, reconsidered. This fic wasn’t meant to have a happy ending, but I know that the majority of my readers have desperately wanted one. I can’t blame you all. I’m a sucker for a happy ending, too. So, for all of you that have read, reviewed, and given me the generous support that you have, I am going to write an alternate ending/sequel to Seven Days. I’ll be starting it after finishing my current project. Keep an eye out for ‘Mementos’.


 
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