Chapter Text
Friends With Benefits
By Ragna
(writingGoddess@aol.com)
Buffy tried so hard not to stare behind her as she ran up the stairs. He was down there killing himself, making himself one firey sacrifice for her and all the Slayerettes. Did she even deserve it? She knew they did, but did she?
She wanted to stop and stare and let that fire consume her too, or go back and grab his hand and tell him to fuck off, that she'd be there with him in the end. She didn't want to leave him.
But he told her to go. She was going to go. Maybe she'd see him again.
Doubtful. But as long as there is hope, there is...hope.
***
364 days later
***
"That's still one big hole."
"It's creepy, that's what it is." Willow rubbed her arms. "I'm just glad everyone got out of there okay, you know?"
"Yeah," Xander said. He laid down the bouquet of roses he'd brought with him.
"I'm sorry," Willow said hastily. "I forgot..."
Xander shrugged. "She's probably in heaven annoying the angels or in hell irritating the Devil, but I like to think either way she's happy. It helps."
Willow grabbed his hand and turned towards the third member of their rememberance trio. "Buffy? You okay?"
It was Buffy's turn to shrug. In the last year she'd withdrawn even more than when Angel had left. This was a new Buffy, one who was tough and a taskmaster on the outside, training all the new Slayers that came to her. Faith even broke her jaw and Buffy didn't flinch. She just put a hand out, stopped training, and walked to the mirror to asess the damage. Then she went back to training.
But on the inside she was a hollow shell. She wouldn't even open up to Angel, as much as he tried. He threw all the resources he had at his disposal to help the remaining Slayerettes, setting them up in Los Angeles to work with him and his crew, and as much time as he and the others could to get the others to heal physically and emotionally. But while Buffy was as strong as ever, she was closed so tightly nothing was going in or out.
They all knew what caused it. No one mentioned his name, though. As much as it must have killed Angel, he never pressed for information about the two of them so he could help her. Everyone, eventually, just left her alone.
"Buffy?" Willow called. "We're ready."
Buffy looked up. Her hair was dark brown now, cut short again. Buffy wanted a change, and this one was severe. "In a second."
She finished writing the words in the sand, then scuffed them over with her boot. She'd written what amounted to the largest question in her life: why?
"Good-bye, Spike," she said softly, kicking some of the sand over into the gaping hole as she turned to leave.
"I don't think so, love," she heard softly in her ear.
"Spike?" she asked, whirling around.
"Say something, Buffy?" Xander asked.
"No. No, no...nothing."
TBC