Lost Lovers (17/?)
Buffy was in Spike’s apartment with Illyria. She wasn’t with Dawn, or Willow or Xander. She was with Illyria. It didn’t seem right. Her last day alive and she was with the thing that had destroyed the man she’d loved. Did that strike as the oddest thins she’d ever done? Possibly.
“You want to be with Spike.”
“No, Illyria,” Buffy sighed. “I only want my life back.”
“The life you had with him?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I could assume his shape, make him come alive again this once for you. But you would never ask me to.” He sounded resentful.
“Is that what you want, Illyria? To be Spike?”
The demon looked away.
“I am unsure.”
That wasn’t an answer. It wasn’t even the beginning of an answer, but it would have to do.
“Do it, then. Be Spike.”
Illyria’s eyes found her. They were questioning. It wondered why Buffy would agree to something she vehemently protested less then a week ago. Buffy didn’t know the answer to that. She just knew she had to see Spike one last time.
“Just for a minute or so. Don’t talk. Just…”
“I understand.”
No, Buffy thought sadly, you don’t. You can’t. Ever.
In an instant the demon changed its demeanor, gone where the body suit and those cold eyes. It truly looked like Spike. And for a brief moment, Buffy could almost pretend it was her lost lover moving towards her with such grace.
“Spike?”
It really did look like him. Like he had looked that day in the Hell mouth - right before he died. His hair was perfectly bleached and gelled. His clothes were black jeans, black T-shirt and of course that duster of his. It was Spike. Right down to those piercing blue eyes…
Buffy turned away. It was Illyria, not Spike. She knew that, yet, she still needed to pretend, if only for a little while.
“Spike… I can’t really believe that you’re here. Well, you’re not really here, but… I should say something. I don’t know what, but I - I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you. I wanted to, Spike. I really did. You thought that I lied when I said that I loved you - but I didn’t. I really meant it. I don’t know what else to say, what to do…”
Buffy knew she was rambling. Spike would never let her ramble. He’d interrupted with some snide remark. Illyria-Spike didn’t say a word.
“You’re dead, ya know? You’re dead and I killed you. I asked you to stay, remember? You told me that you should have left, that the First still had plans for you, but I stopped you and you stayed. I knew that you would stay with me if I asked. You loved me. And I loved you. I didn’t want you to go, so you stayed. You stayed and you died. I killed you, Spike. I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. I asked you to stay, so you stayed. You died because you stayed.”
Her manner of speech was quick, almost frenzied. But she didn’t care if the demon had lost it tracks. The words she spoke weren’t for Illyria’s ears.
“I haven’t been right since you died. And I don’t know why. I shouldn’t be missing you as much as I do. You were stubborn and stupid and generally a pain in my ass. But you were always there, ya know. And now when you’re not - I feel cold and empty and I can’t stand it! You’re in my head. I hear your voice all the time and I cant stop thinking about you because you won’t shut up!”
The demon remained silent. Buffy wanted so much to hear Spike’s voice, his true voice, and yet, she didn’t want Illyria to respond. That would break the illusion.
“I look at Illyria and all I can see is you.”
She stopped pacing, and, for the first time during her long rant, she looked at Illyria-Spike.
“And all I can think of is that day in the Hell mouth. I destroyed you. You’re gone. You’re not coming back and I can’t, I can’t… I’m sorry, Spike. I am so sorry. Please forgive me!” she raged against the still form in front of her. “Tell me that you forgive me!”
Illyria-Spike put his hands on either side of Buffy’s face and leaned over to kiss her. And she kissed what remained of her former lover. She didn’t know why she did it. Illyria wasn’t Spike - it could never be Spike. But the kiss was gentle, painful, mournful; an empty apology to someone who no longer existed.
The demon made no further move, and when Buffy felt how cold those lips were, a lone tear trickled out of her eyes and down her cheek.
She suddenly heard the door opening, and breaking the embrace, she saw in the corner of her eyes, a pale Fred looking back at her with pain written all over her face.
“Oh God, Fred…” she stepped back from Illyria, who was studying Fred intensely. Was it regret that Buffy saw in the demon’s face?
“Change back,” she ordered hoarsely, her voice shaking with emotions. “Now.”
Illyria was silent for a moment, still not letting his gaze of Fred, before murmuring, “As you wish.”
He changed back to looking like the god king and Buffy sighed with relief. Then she focused on the shocked woman by the door.
“It’s not what it looks like, Fred.”
“Really?” was the weak response.
“I wanted to… See him one last time - that’s all,” Buffy explained. “To say goodbye.”
“Was it as you imagined it to be? Tell me, Buffy, did you get what you wanted?” Fred smiled weakly. “It’s not really him you’re saying goodbye to. It’s your memories. And don’t even think for a second that this creature care about your feelings. He couldn’t.”
And with that, she turned her back on them and left the room.
Buffy let out a moan and gazed over at Illyria only to see the god king stand still with his eyes locked on the spot were Fred had been standing.
“Illyria?”
The demon turned his head to her in a jerky way.
“Oh God, you love her don’t you?” asked Buffy and gasped for air.
“I do not love,” he responded coldly. “You’re mistaken, Slayer.”
Was she? Somehow, Buffy doubted that. And that revelation spooked her more than anything. Cause if a vampire like Spike could love another being so blindly - how would a god king show his love?
TBC-