AUTHOR’S NOTES-

Sorry about the annoyingly angsty beginning. It will get better. Eventual Spike/Angel with some cuteness and humour, but yes, there will be some angsty annoyingness for a little while.

~ Lil Loki Puck

As the casket was lowered, for the second and final time in the life of its user, Spike closed his eyes. This moment had been coming for years. It had approached slowly and insideously, but surely and unstoppably. There had been times when it hadn’t seemed to matter, when it seemed impossible; those times, though more immediate, had been easier. Those had been the times when it seemed she would die a Slayer. Each night she went out, she may not come back. Or he might not come back. One of them would die, and it would be instant, violent, and painful. Spike could have dealt with that. He was prepared for that when he decided to spend the rest of his life with Buffy. After he had climbed out of the Hellmouth into the sun, he had thought they could face anything together. He could even bring her into the sun, now.

But this- this he hadn’t considered until it began. This slow decay that was aging. Before his eyes, her youthful life had faded. This was only the outside; to Spike, she was still the same Buffy. Perhaps no longer beautiful in that stunning summery way she had, but now in a way that was softer, wiser, and in some ways, stronger. But, that, too, faded, until his Buffy was trapped in a body that would not obey her. After that, it happened so quickly. She fell ill. Her heart gave out. She died. It was simple and human. Horribly human. Surely the Slayer was beyond that sort of fate?

Of course not. He had been a fool to hope so. The others had simply never had that chance.

The first Slayer to die of old age. It had a touch of irony that Spike would have appreciated, once upon a time.

She kept slaying until her late sixties. She then instead began training younger Slayers, particularly one named Sheilagh, who was like a daughter to her. Spike, of course, had assisted her in a beat-up-able Vampire capacity,

There had been no children. How could there be? One of the few things Spike regretted. No babies. Who’d have thought he’d be the settling-down type? But then, Buffy had never seemed to regret it. Sheilagh was gone now. Off being all Slayer-y. She never came to the funeral.

There had never been a question of Siring Buffy. She would no longer be the woman he loved. It was as simple as that. A century and more of soullessness followed by its return taught Spike that. There was no way around it.

For those last few years, it had been agony, having that power, knowing that with just a few moments of incredible pain and bliss she could be immortal, yet not being able to do it.

It was raining. The sky was dark, and it was raining that half-hearted drizzle from clouds that couldn’t even summon up the enthusiasm for lightning.

The remaining Scoobies stood gathered around the grave with wet eyes. Faith was there, but not that pratty principal. Spike didn’t bother to ask why. Xander was there with Dawn. They looked such a typical old couple.

Spike felt sick.

Willow’s age was graceful. She stood straight-backed but with her head down. She had a black umbrella. Spike couldn’t see her face. She made little sobbing sounds that reminded Spike painfully of the Scooby years- she sounded so young. She’d always been the innocent one. She sounded like a teenager again, lost and hurt.

Spike wasn’t crying. He couldn’t.

Dawn was at Spike’s right. She wasn’t crying. She wouldn’t let herself. Spike knew she’d break down at some point, and then she wouldn’t be able to stop. She was delaying the inevitable. She should let it out.

He didn’t tell her. He couldn’t speak. His throat was tight, so tight that he couldn’t breathe. Which was ok, because he didn’t need to breathe. And yet that feeling of air in his lungs was comforting, and when it wasn’t there, it bothered him.

His eyes burned. He had cried for so long, in the darkness of the crypt he returned to the night she died, that there were no tears left. Now all he had was the pounding in his head and the ache in his throat and the emptiness in his heart.

God, he wanted a cigarette.

The priest was muttering things. Spike’s head pounded.

The pulse in the priest’s neck throbbed. Spike forced his eyes away.

Still snuffling, Willow bent painfully to drop a white rose onto the casket. She whispered her goodbyes.

God. That casket was Buffy-sized. She was short.

Spike’s throat got tighter. Dawn was speaking softly, sadly, as she dropped her rose.

"I guess we aren’t bringing you back this time. We’ll miss you. I- yesterday I found Giles’ Watcher’s diary. He kept it right up until the accident, you know. I don’t know why that seems important now. I don’t know what I’m saying." She stopped and turned away.

Spike realized he was soaking. He couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. He held his own rose in his palm and just looked at it. He tried to say something, but his tongue couldn’t form the words and his tight throat choked them off anyway.

He wanted to scream. He was dizzy. He wanted to lose himself again. Wanted to go all Evil Vampire and kill that priest. He wanted to lose himself in that bloodrush and wake up to find himself staked. Only, being staked, he wouldn’t wake up. He never wanted to wake up again.

He managed about the first syllable of "Goodbye,", and choked again. He saw Willow bite her lip and realized that he had crushed the rose in his hand. His fist was shaking, the fist was so tight. "Bloody hell." It was a hoarse whisper. He threw the broken flower to the grass. He turned and left. Convenient, he crypt being on the other side of this very graveyard.

Convenient and stupid.

Stupid.

The priest was babbling again as Spike walked away with his back to the burial. Spike wanted so badly to kill him.

That or a cigarette.

Or a stake. Yeah, a stake would be nice.

Anything to make him numb.

[A/N- This is my first Buffy fic, AND my first slash- so any reviews would be EXTREMELY appreciated. No flames, please, but any form of CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is both welcome and hoped for. Thanks!]