"Buffy!"

Buffy's head snapped toward the direction of Spike's pained cry, immediately alarmed by the desperate tone in his voice, a tone she had never heard him use. He was brave, rarely giving in to pain or fear. So to hear him cry out in such an urgent manner had Buffy fearing the worst.

"Spike!" She cried, terrified for him as she saw a brilliant orange light shoot from the amulet, Spike caught in its radiance as it single-handedly dusted every Turok-Han in the Hellmouth and the earth began to rumble ominously.

She heard Faith's orders echo, clear and commanding, "Everybody out now!"

But at the sight of Spike's condition Buffy's heart skipped, her stomach clenched, and she dashed to his side in haste, Faith's demand falling on deaf ears. Buffy watched helplessly while Spike trembled from a pain the growing power of the amulet bestowed upon him.

It was then that she knew. She could see it in his eyes, could feel it in her soul.
Spike was going to die.

The man who had stuck by her though thick and thin, who believed in her even when she found it hard to believe in herself, who had been through hell and back to become worthy of her love, who now stood before her drenched in light and willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.

The man that she loved.

But as she reached for his hand, trying to interlace her fingers through his, she gasped in horror as it crumbled to dust before her eyes. Skin, muscle, and bone disintegrated under her touch.

Her champion, her friend and love.

Reduced to a pile of ashes.


Buffy woke with a start, her heart beating rapidly as she tried to erase the horrible image from her consciousness.

It was the same dream she'd been having since that fateful day. Always the same, bright and harsh and all too real as she saw their last moments together again and again, the fire dancing before her eyes. And the ending was also consistent: hands torn apart by the violent quakes, watching him melt away, seeing his skin slowly boil until his entire body faded to lifeless black ashes that scattered throughout the Hellmouth.

Dust.

Buffy settled back into her pillows, brushing the matted blonde hair out of her eyes as she recalled her last glimpse of the gargantuan crater formerly known as Sunnydale. When the bus full of survivors trekked ahead down the road and her former hometown faded completely from view, it was then when her resolve had crumbled. The tears started flowing, and at the time she didn't know if they would ever stop.

Of course, she did stop crying eventually, but never the hurting. Not completely.

Buffy was proud of Spike for all he had accomplished, for being the champion she knew he was. But her heart still ached from her loss, and she couldn't help the pangs she felt whenever her thoughts returned to him. She often wondered where he had gone, where he was now. Another dimension, heaven, hell? Had his soul moved on? Could he see her, could he feel what she felt every day?

She knew Spike would have wanted her to be happy, and for the most part, she was exactly that.

Buffy loved her friends and family, loved her new found freedom from the slayer burden and the whole new world of opportunities opened to her as a result. Things were pleasant and peaceful, surrounded by loved ones with not much to complain about and in all, life was good.

Yet still she felt inexplicably incomplete, like a piece of her was missing, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Or maybe, didn't want to.

The times when she was out laughing with her friends, enjoying a night on the town, Buffy found that she could forget him completely, and all that he left behind. Enjoyable moments that would take her mind away, bring her a total peace that soothed, made her feel entirely whole. But once she'd arrive home and slide under the covers, the familiar ache would return in a flash, hitting her like a steel weight. It was in those moments that she would remember and allow herself to mourn. And the mourning became slightly easier with every night that passed, soon making those final moments before the collapse of Sunnydale seem more like an eternity ago.

But Buffy didn't sit around pining for Spike. He wouldn't have wanted her to wallow, and she didn't, because wallowing definitely wasn't of the good. He'd sacrificed himself so she could go on living, knowing full well she needed to live her life, to learn true contentment. For herself and her own personal development if nothing else.

Buffy held fast to this notion, trying to move forward with her life, to enjoy all the simple pleasures it had to offer.

To grow.

Carpe diem

Which was part of the reason Buffy had started dating the Immortal, who her well meaning though meddlesome friends had set her up with in an attempt to help her move on, to help her forget about Spike.

As if she ever could.

The Immortal was intelligent and intriguing, though in many ways he was still a bit of an enigma, even to her.

Mysterious black clad hunk of the night? Check.
Dynamic personality? Check.
Knows how to party? Major checkage.

Buffy couldn't help the initial attraction she felt for him, and he provided her with exactly what she needed: an escape. He treated her well, he made her laugh, and in all, she felt happier when she was with him.

But she was never in love with him.

Which is why she decided to break up with him. She'd given him the whole, "it's not you, it's me" spiel, telling him she still wanted to be friends, that she enjoyed his company, but that he deserved someone who could reciprocate his feelings. Feelings which, at times, Buffy wasn't even sure existed.

Guaging his reactions was never an easy task, but he seemed to take the news pretty well... or, so she thought. Not that she expected him to be devastated about the break up anyway, as she knew at the beginning of their relationship that he wasn't exactly the type who loved being tied down for long.

Scared of commitment? Maybe.

Which was definitely something that Buffy could relate, as she too had once been afraid of the complications and possible outcomes attached to a serious relationship. It was too risky. Open your heart, just to have it trampled on, abused, broken. It was too much to ask... At least, it had been at the time, because she hadn't been ready.

Things were different. Yet still she found herself yearning for more, despite knowing she should move on. But something deep down in her gut told her she couldn't just yet. She sensed something, could feel something coming, and it shook her straight to the core. A mere whisper of a thought in the back of her mind that refused to cease, despite her best efforts.


Her friends would think it was just an obsession, an unhealthy paranoia of some sort, so she kept it to herself for the time being.

Buffy wandered outside to the balcony, leaning against the railing as she hugged her thin silk robe tighter around her body. Every night she looked up to the sky, gazing at the stars that shined brightly against the darkness of night, and wondered if somewhere at that very moment, by some miracle, Spike was doing the exact same thing.

*****

Spike sat on the steps, moonlight glistening in his platinum hair as he took a drag of his cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke, watched as it swirled and dissipated in the breeze. He tilted his head, observing the stars that littered the night sky as they danced and flickered like little luminescent orbs of flame, glimmering bright and serene.

Drusilla had always loved the stars, pretending to see them even when she was indoors, during the daytime. For years after she left him for the chaos demon Spike used to do this exact thing, pining for her as he gazed at the stars and wallowed in his own (and often drunken) misery.

But as he looked up to the stars now, Drusilla wasn't even a fleeting thought in his mind. The cool breeze seemed to beckon to him, a faint whisper, repeating over and over again the one thing he felt would never cease to preoccupy his mind so readily.

Buffy.

The woman he loved, who would have his unbeating heart until the end of time.

And within the next three days, he was going to see her again.

He'd made the decision to go to her after the battle with the senior partners, though he knew she was with the Immortal now, living in Rome. But he didn't expect to start a relationship with her. Maybe he still didn't feel worthy of that, or maybe it was simply because he didn't want it any more. His life (or unlife) had been a whirlwind the few weeks immediately following the battle, not leaving him much time to decipher his own feelings. But whatever the case, Buffy had moved on, and she was happy. And Spike in turn was happy for her, hoping she would be radiant when he saw her, glowing.

Effulgent.

Part of him still wanted to back out of going, so he could still be remembered as the hero Buffy wanted him to be. Especially after going out in a blaze of glory, he didn't want to just show up in her life now only to complicate things.

Though another nagging thought refused to cease tormenting Spike's mind.

Did Buffy really love him?

He'd thought she looked sincere in the Hellmouth, when she stayed by his side despite the crumbling walls that threatened to crush her at any moment, and he wanted to believe it with every fiber of his being. Though at the time it seemed he hadn't allowed himself.

At the very least, he knew she cared about him. But he started having increasing doubts during his time at Wolfram and Hart.

Was what Andrew said true? Did she really love him?
He needed to know. Though part of him was still terrified to discover the truth, and what exactly the implications of those three little words could mean for him.

But after he almost died in that gruesome battle just three weeks ago, he felt he owed it to her to tell her everything, to give their relationship at least some closure before it was too late. Plus, Spike also had the highly undesirable task of bearing bad news, horrible news that twisted his insides when he thought of the pain Buffy would feel upon hearing it.

Angel was dead. He had been slain in the battle.

Damned fire breathing dragon was what got him. Spike shuddered as he recalled the vision of his grand-sire set aflame, dying before his eyes. Even while he was burning, Angel managed to deliver the coup-de-grace, sinking his sword into the dragon's throat just before he dissolved into ashes.

Spike felt he owed Buffy more than a phone call to tell her something of this magnitude. He wanted to make sure she knew Angel died a hero, brave and valiant as he went down fighting and never ceasing in his efforts. Spike mourned the loss of his grand-sire. Granted, the great poof had been a thorn in his side most of the time, and he often resented him for his condescending attitude. But he still respected him, knowing deep down he was a good and noble man, despite being a royal pain in the ass.

Spike shifted his position to grind the cigarette stub beneath his boot, his black duster rustling against the steps as he fidgeted. He silently cursed the senior partners as he thought of all the damage they had done.

'I hope the whole lot of 'em are rotting in Hell for what they did, the whole damned bunch.' He thought bitterly.

Spike suddenly realized the sun was beginning to make its presence known, light slowly creeping into the sky as dawn approached. He stood, spun on his heel and walked inside to escape the sun's rays, thinking of the journey ahead of him.

'Well Goldilocks', he thought wistfully, 'Hope you're open for visitors.'

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A/N: Hey guys, I'm trying to repost the chapters that were blank now (I think some of them were lost in the server crash here.) Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the story. Please let me know what you think! :)