He dropped his head in shame at the memory of that moment, the moment when he knew he'd failed Buffy, failed Dawn, failed them all. The look of terror on Dawn's face was etched in his mind permanently. How long he had laid there, he wasn't sure, but when he'd finally come to his senses again, he'd heard the crash and knew it was over. Someone had died for his mistake. Only he had been sure it was Dawn. When he'd managed to limp over to the group of them and saw Buffy laying there, still and gone, something inside of him had broken.
He leaned against a tree, struggling to get a cigarette from his pocket. He was pretty sure his nerves would heal eventually, but he was still having trouble getting his hands to do anything without this infernal shaking. Of course, he knew it wasn't physical damage that made him shake, that it was remorse and grief, but it was easier to blame it on his fall.
The sounds of Dawn's muffled crying as she clung to Xander reached Spike and he had to fight the urge to plug his ears. No, he though, I deserve this, deserve to hear her suffer. It's my fault after all. He watched the group of them, in theory come here to say a few words over their friend, but they were silent as stones. Willow held Tara's hand tightly, knuckles showing white under the edge of her sleeve, tears dripping slowly down her cheeks. Anya, her head sporting a bandage from her injuries, clung forlornly to Xander's hand, looking both lost and angry. Xander held Dawn with one arm, and just stared in disbelief at the words on the marker in front of them.
Spike turned the words over slowly in his mind. Buffy Anne Summers. Had he even known her middle name? As he finally managed to free a smoke from the pack, he thought about the years listed there. Only twenty years, seemed impossible to him. She had been a part of him forever, hadn't she? Beloved sister, devoted friend. He looked back to the grim gathering before him and sighed. Lighting his cigarette, he thought sourly how all her friends were there, but there as no
The last line made him smile faintly. She saved the world a lot. Buffy would have liked that, he thought. It wasn't enough though. She had done so much more in her twenty years than most people did in a lifetime. And she would have done more, if not for him. He took a drag off of his cigarette and turned to go.
And found himself face to face with Angel. Wonderful, he thought, much better to be an angry, grief-stricken vampire's punching bag than a bunch of sad mortals. Angel had always seemed to be under a dark cloud, but his entire face looked devoid of life now. No one would mistake him for human, that was for sure. He was completely still, not even bothering to pretend to breathe. Spike stood there, waiting for the blows to fall.
Angel glanced over Spike's shoulder and saw the tombstone of his love. He had thought nothing could hurt as much as when he'd heard Willow's shaky announcement. He'd been wrong. That little stone, the freshly turned earth, the group of weeping mortals, it all cut through to the very core of him.
Speaking softly, Angel asked, "So what are you doing here, Spike? Come to gloat over the Slayer's death? Or maybe you came to complain that it wasn't fair, you should have gotten her instead?" His eyes came alive briefly as they filled with disgust for the creature before him.
Each question had been like a kick to his stomach, and Spike was angry now. How dare this poof come here and accuse him of such things? As if he'd even bothered to help. His head fell as he realized that Angel would have never let Doc trick him so easily. He finally muttered his response. "Just paying my respects."
"Respects?" Angel roared, drawing the attention of the others finally. "What do you know about respect, Spike? And why would you even think you belong here now, while her family and friends mourn her? You've done nothing but harm these people and devil them, and now you think you get to 'pay respects'?"
Spike stepped back from the elder vampire, knowing Angel was quickly reaching the end of his leash. Faintly, he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps and he mentally kicked himself. He shouldn't have come, he should have known Angel would be here. It wasn't right to be fighting over the grave of this woman they had both loved. He turned to go, but Angel clamped a hand firmly on his shoulder, sending a shocking course of pain down his already battered body.
"Where do you think you're going now? Don't you think you should let them know you were lurking back here? They deserve to have something to destroy for what they've lost, and *you* are a good choice. Buffy would have approved," Angel said as he held the smaller man still.
"Let go of him, Angel," Willow said as she approached the pair. She'd let go of Tara's hand now, and walked purposefully over to Angel. She put her hand on top of his, and began to tug at his fingers, seeing how they were digging into Spike's shoulder.
Angel looked at her in surprise, and let her pull his hand free. He saw that Spike was not moving to leave, so he turned his attention to Willow. She looked bereft of all hope, but he saw anger in those eyes too, and wondered what was going on.
Willow had moved to Spike's side, speaking softly to him. "You didn't need to hide up here, you know? You could have come to stand with us."
Angel's mouth dropped open in astonishment. Willow was being nice to Spike, inviting him to mourn her best friend with them all? What was going on here? "Have you lost your mind? Do you remember who that is you are talking to? Spike, the one who plotted to kill Buffy so many times he's probably lost count? You know, the one who tried to kill me, more than once? Why would you want him here?"
Willow shot a glance at him that told him to be quiet, and he was even more confused. He turned to the rest of them, looking for an explanation. He nearly screamed for one when he saw Dawn pull away from Xander and run to Spike, wrapping her arms around him fiercely. He was shocked to see the blonde hold onto her, just as fiercely. He was beginning to wonder if maybe they hadn't come back to the wrong world when they'd all returned from Pylea.
Xander spoke softly. "Look, Angel, I don't think you get to be the one who slings accusations and insults here tonight. As much as I hate both of you, I have to admit that Spike, at least, was here and tried to help. You left Buffy a long time ago, and when she needed you the most, where were you?" Xander looked disgusted as he continued. "All you vampires falling in love with the Slayer, and look where it got her. Her first love was nowhere to be found, and that one," he said, gesturing to Spike, "he wasn't enough help. If it weren't for knowing how much Buffy loved you, I'd stake you right now."
Angel shook his head, trying to deny what Xander had just said. Spike helping Buffy? Spike loving Buffy? Angel stumbled backward, as if he had been struck. He sat down abruptly when his legs met another tombstone behind him. His head was swimming, and he suddenly had no idea why he had come here. Xander had been right, he didn't belong here. He'd left Buffy a long time ago, telling them both it was for her own good, so that she could have a normal life. He knew now, and he'd known then, that it was all a lie. He'd left her because he was terrified, of what he'd done to her, of what he might do again if he allowed himself to be with her.
So he had run. And it hadn't helped. Her life hadn't suddenly become filled with adoring suitors and cramming for midterms. She was the Slayer after all, and that had always meant sacrificing all those things to protect everyone. Sure, she'd had another boyfriend, but Angel had ruined that for her too.
At that thought, he turned his head towards Spike, who was still holding Dawn, her sobbing having subsided. Angel's stomach turned at the image of Spike being with Buffy. But he had been away for so long, maybe things had changed. For all he knew, Spike had a soul now too. After all, Willow knew the curse, and maybe she'd figured out a way to make it permanent, with no perfect happiness clause.
Angel thought back to what little he remembered of Spike's earlier years, before he'd become the savage and creative killer that Angel had taught him to be. That William had been a gentle and sentimental soul. Of course Buffy could have loved him.
Slowly, Angel stood to leave. By then, though, Spike had freed himself from Dawn, and made his way to his grandsire. Angel fought off the urge to hurl his fists at the bruised vampire, and just stood there, waiting to hear Spike's insults.
Spike saw the despair and outrage on Angel's face, and sighed. It was hard to be so angry with the poof when he understood exactly what he was going through. And then to find out that he'd not been there when Buffy had needed him most, and that Spike had, it must hurt. "Look, I'm just going to go," Spike began. Dawn started to protest, but Spike held up a hand. "I'm tired anyways, and I need to try to freshen up a bit. Look like something not even a cat would drag in. So you stay Angel, say your respects. I'll stay out of your way while you're here."
Spike began to walk down the hill towards his crypt, but Angel followed him. Spike grabbed another smoke from his battered pack, the last one still smoldering where he'd dropped it when Dawn had run to him. He stopped and lit the cigarette, allowing the older man to catch up with him. Spike wondered if this was where Angel would warn him not to hurt the niblet or any of the rest of the scoobies. Taking a long, slow drag off the fag, he thought bitterly how it would be hard to top this, in the way of hurting them. It was his incompetence that had brought them all to this.
"Spike, I don't know what you and Buffy had between you two, but well, thank you for taking care of her, and Dawn. At least you were here for her when she needed someone. Lot better than me."
Spike looked shocked. Angel was thanking him? Love did strange things to people, and vampires too, for that matter. How long had it been since he and Angel had actually had a civil conversation? Had that ever happened, even when they had traveled the world together? He frowned, then replied, "Uh, well, thanks, I guess. Wasn't much help was I? If I had only done better, none of this would have happened. If I had saved Dawn, then Buffy would still be here. If you had been here, I'm sure things would have been different."
Angel puzzled over how different Spike seemed, not at all his usually confident, almost braggart self. The man who stood before him seemed broken somehow. Angel looked back up the hill to where the gang had returned to the new grave, and thought to himself how well he understood that emptiness. Finally, he dragged his eyes away from the mournful tableau, and looked at Spike again. The slender vampire seemed almost fragile, the look in his eyes one of bitter guilt and anguish.
The two men stood there in silence for some time. Angel was the first to speak, after trying and rejecting a dozen half-hearted attempts at solace. He decided that he would just finish this conversation quickly. "Spike, look, I'm going back to L.A." Seeing the shocked look on Spike's face, he went on. "No, it's not because of you, or this meeting here. Xander was right, I gave up my right to be here a long time ago." Angel stared at his hand, somewhat surprised to find them balled into fists. He hadn't realized how angry he was about all this, how much he wanted to lash out at something. All the more reason to return to L.A. and Angel Investigations, and get back to work.
Spike dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his heel. He followed Angel's eyes to the fists and cringed, almost wishing that the older vampire would just do it, beat him bloody and then stake him. "You don't ever give up those rights, mate. You and the Slayer had a love that goes beyond a petty break up, beyond even death. Besides, Xander isn't likely to do anything, he knows it would've hurt Buffy. So stay as long as you like. I'll just keep my distance until you've gone. Like I should have done in the first place."
Angel glanced at Spike, nearly smiling. "Do you remember what you told us that night you kidnapped Willow to do the love spell on Dru? That we would never be friends, that love was blood crying out? You were right about that. Even all those centuries I spent in that hell dimension didn't come close to hurting like this." He sighed, and turned to walk away. "No, I think I'm going to go. I need to do something with this pain, and getting back to work will be a way to at least share it with people who deserve it. Just promise me something?"
Spike's eyebrows arched at Angel's question. "What?"
"Just promise me that you'll look out for them all. And that you'll call me if they ever need me again. I don't want to leave them in the lurch again."
Spike nodded sadly. "I promise. I'll do my best. Even if it isn't good enough. And I'll call, or make them do it."
Angel turned back to Spike. He felt like he needed to say something about all the guilt he saw in Spike's face, but wasn't sure what to say. "Spike, this is what it feels like to have a soul. That guilt that's eating at you, that's what it's like. But you did your best, I'm sure. If you loved her half as much as I did, I'm sure you did everything you could." Without waiting for a reply, Angel began to walk away.
Spike stared after him in shock. He wasn't sure if he was astonished that he'd not been pummelled and staked, or if he was surprised by the kind words Angel had offered him. He watched as Angel disappeared in the distance, then turned back to face the tombstone. The group was beginning to disperse, and headed his way. He swallowed sharply, trying to force his own tears back. The sight of the lone grave marker and the freshly turned earth made him feel like something was clawing at his insides. He realized then that Angel had been right, this was what it was like to have a soul. He vaguely remembered the feeling from his mortal days, when Cecily had spurned him, the gut wrenching anguish and pain. Only this was a thousand times worse. At least Buffy had treated him like a man, which was more than Cecily ever had.
Dawn walked up to him quietly and slipped her arm through his, turning him away from the grave. He allowed her to lead him away with the rest of the group. He'd do what he'd promised Angel. He'd take care of them all, the best he could. It was the least he could do now.
End.