Part 1: All That Love Went To Waste

Pattyanne 's Fic
Kings of Mercia
LoobyLoos' Fic
Jen's Fic

"We were close to it all
Caught the rainbows we chased
Then we watched the sky fall
All that love went to waste."

The jeep came to a squeaky halt, kicking up a red
clay dust cloud. Buffy stepped out and walked the
remaining sixty-feet to the edge of the cliff overlooking
what had been her former slaying grounds.

Sunnydale, California. Where evil comes to play. Would
have been a great motto for the town...if the town still

Now, it was nothing more than a gigantic hole in the
ground, filled with the detritus of a population
that had disappeared, one way or another.

The sun was close to setting, but that wasn't a problem.
No more vamps were coming out to play
in this town, not ever again. The city, and the ground
beneath it, was's gateway to hell sealed

It should have made her happy. Maybe even a little
proud. After the first Hellmouth had been destroyed,
closing the others had been a piece of cake. They knew
so much more, now. And there were so many more
slayers to deal with the outbreaks.

Still, happiness was an elusive concept for her these
days. And pride...well, she was proud, no doubt about it.

But not of herself.

"Spike?" she whispered, wondering if he could somehow
hear her, wishing it was so...but knowing that it wasn't.

Never again. She would never see him...hear him...touch
him. There was just nothing left of him to hold on to, and
every time she remembered that, her heart broke all over
again. Painfully. So much so that she almost wanted to lay
down and die.

Her knees were starting to shake, and she recognized
the symptoms of what was coming. She didn't even try to
fight it. Without a second thought, she sat down on the
ground and drew her knees up under her chin.

And she cried.

Cried for herself...for her friends...for all the ones who had
died fighting the fight. But her bitterest tears, the ones that
came so harshly that they made her entire body ache, were
all for him. Her champion...her hero...her lover.

She sat on the cold ground, rocking back and forth, sobbing
like a frightened child. Wanting him back so badly that she
would have done anything to make it happen.

They had tried to bring him back. The first few months
after it was all over, Willow and Giles had done everything
they could possibly think of. They'd spent hours poring over
books so thick and heavy that it almost took the both of them
to lift them on to a table. Spells had been investigated and
considered, shamans and sorcerers had been consulted. Their
search for the answer had taken them to some of the deepest
and farthest points on the planet.

No one had been able to help. And every time they came
back from one of their journeys with nothing new to tell
her, Buffy's heart had cracked a little more.

Two days ago, they had finally admitted that it was time
to let him go. Almost a year had passed, and she had to get
on with life. It was what he would have wanted, they had told
her kindly.

None of their gentle persuasion had pierced her dogged
denial of the facts. She had flown into a rage at that point,
screamed and shouted and accused them of not really
caring what had happened to him, what he might be going

That was the fear that woke her in the early morning hours,
whenever she managed to fall asleep. Where was he...and
what was happening to him? Was he at peace? Or, was he
being tormented in some dimension of hell so horrible that
it defied description?

The thought was unbearable.

Even worse was the knowledge that she had forced herself
to face;.that even if he was indeed at peace, if he had been
granted some kind of absolution for his sacrifice...she still wanted
him back. The selfishness of it sickened her, but she couldn't
make herself feel any differently.

She loved him. It had taken her far too long to realize it, but
there it was just the same.

"What we had was the end
It could not be erased
That's the pity, my friend
All that love went to waste.."

Yesterday, she had thrown her bags into the
back of the jeep and locked up her house.

After stopping at the bank for money, and the post
office to drop off the letters she had written to them
all, she'd hit the interstate that would take her back to
where it had all started.

The words she had put down on paper had been
heartfelt. Thanking them all...telling them all how much
she loved them...apologizing for her anger and mis-
trust...begging them to let her go.

'Please' she had written, 'no locating spells. No tele-
portation. Just...let it be.'

Let it be.....

But it shouldn't have to be THIS way. Had there been a shred
of justice in the cosmos, then he would be standing beside
her now.

He had deserved to live! He HAD, damn it all to hell! So, why
did it have to end like this...with his death? If someone would
just tell her why, then maybe she COULD let it be. Could try and
find some meaning...some greater this whole fucked
up situation.

No one she asked could answer her question. They didn't
understand any better than she did.

What did that signify? That there really WAS no answer?
That it was all nothing more than capricious fate?

God, was NO one watching? Or caring? Had no one but
her seen how much he had hard he had far he had come?

Well, if that was true, then fate could go fuck itself! She
was sick and tired of it kicking her around like a beach ball.

She was done being it's bitch!

What was the point of trying? If everything could be
snatched away by some fickle whim of a nebulous con-
cept, then why should she even attempt to do the right

Was this her reward? After surviving seven years of terror
and blood and violence...after battling the armies of hell
in the name of world salvation...after conquering even death
itself...this was all she had to get her through the night?

And if not her reward, was it her punishment? If so, then
what was she being punished for?

Was it for failing to take the burden onto her own
shoulders, forcing him to pick up her ragged banner and
carry it into battle, sealing his fate?

For denying love? For arrogantly turning her back on
it in righteous certainty that it wasn't really there?

Was that the reason it had been taken from her?

Perhaps. After all, who the hell was SHE to think she
knew better than anyone else what love was or was

If she HAD...wouldn't she have done things differently?

"If we only could have guessed
That it wouldn't stand the test
We'd have played it all for jest
Would have been each other's guest"

Too late...too late...too late...

The words echoed in her head like a gong, reverberating
until she wanted to claw them from her brain by force.

Her lost opportunities preyed on her mind.

What she could have done. What she should have
done. What she didn't do. None of it mattered any-

All that really mattered, was what she did now.

The past was too sad. The present was too painful. The was an empty shell, an aching vision of years
spent alone without her center and guiding force.

There was no place for her in it.

She was too late...

"We'd have smiled and walked away
While it still was light and gay
But now, here's that rainy day."

Sniffling, Buffy opened her tote bag and pulled out
a scrap of scarlet fabric.

The night before the last battle, she had instructed
Dawn to pack up every stitch of their clothing. When
questioned, her sister had explained that she'd
found Spike's shirt in the dryer and had thrown it in
with everything else.

The garment was soft from frequent laundering, and
she had been happy to see it. It had been something
to remind her of him until he arrived to reclaim it.

That was said when she'd still been certain that
he would return to her. Her stupid and spoiled inner
child would accept nothing less.

Spike couldn't leave her. Not ever. The very concept
of it was ludicrous. He loved her far too much, enough
to suffer an agonizing transformation that had restored
his SOUL for God's sake, and there was NOTHING...there
was no power on EARTH that would keep him chained.

He would come back...and she would be waiting.

There was no statute of limitations on hope, but it had
taken a powerful toll on her, and now she had none left.

The fire had always burned it's hottest for them. Hating,
loving, fighting, fucking...the inferno raged, whisking them
along on Santa Ana winds.

Now, it was gone. And she would never...ever...find it

The curtain had finally come down, and she was left on
the stage...alone.

How had it all gone so fast? And why was it over before it
had a chance to truly begin?

"If we'd held back a bit
Every time we embraced
Then we might have saved some of it
All that love went to waste.."

"No more," she whispered, unrolling the bundle she'd
made of his shirt.

Lifting it, she pressed it to her cheek and began crying
again. Not the loud choking sobs she usually produced
when she thought of him, but the soft and silent weeping
of hopeless resignation.

"Please...please, no more. I can't. I just...can't..ohhh,
God...oh, no, no,!...NOOOO!"

She jumped to her feet, raising her tear ravaged face
to the evening sky.


All her strength suddenly drained away, driving her
to her knees. There was no mercy being handed out
here...not for her.

Whatever peace she could find would have to come from

Her eyes blinded with tears, she picked up the shiny
object that had tumbled from Spike's shirt into the dirt.

"If we had walked, instead of raced
And just made love, instead of haste
That lovely love might never have gone to waste.."

"Wait for me, Spike. I'm coming."

The razor blade bit into her wrist, her tears mingling
with her blood.

"You wait for me...."

"If we had walked, instead of raced
And just made love, instead of haste
That lovely love might never have gone

To waste...."

Part 2