Disclaimer:The characters of BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon and Co.
Spike had heard screams before. He had heard hearts break and he had heard the last sounds a person makes when their lover dies. But this, this was different. This was the sound of sorrow to deep for words. Horror to frightening to even describe.
He watched as the Slayer fell to her knees and tried to catch the dust from the air. Her hands grasped uselessly as the remains of her lover blew away in the wind. Her sobs were not just sad they were heartbreaking. Her entire body shook with them.
It might have been the tears or it might have been the way she screamed Angel's name, but right then Spike's heart broke. He couldn't find the will to hate her. Never would he be able to hurt her, let alone kill her. Not after seeing her like this.
Ever so carefully he stepped out of the shadows towards her. She heard him coming and whirled around. Her face was a mess of tears, blood and ash. Her breath rasped in her chest as if she found it hard to pull air into her lungs. That was the moment. Right then. Spike fell in love. He had never seen so much passion in a human before. So much love in a Slayer.
"I . . . " He started. But his words were stopped in his throat as she fell on her stomach in front of him.
"Kill me. Please." She begged through her choked sobs.
Bending down on one knee he touched her back gently. Her flesh was warm and full of life. "I'm not going to kill you." He managed.
"Please."
Closing his eyes he gripped her shoulders and pulled her into his lap. Without even thinking about it she gripped his shirt in her fists and buried her face in his chest. This was not just mourning the loss of the one she loved this was total abandon or will for life. She truly wanted to die.
"Now, now. It'll be all right." He cooed.
"NO." She cried loudly.
Rocking back and forth he tried to comfort her. Tried to bring back the desire to live to her worn and tired body. "I'll take you home and get you cleaned up and then we'll see about what you want." He offered climbing to his feet with her still in his arms.
She didn't fight him. She didn't speak. She didn't even cry any more. He would have thought her dead had it not been for her heart beating against him. The way to her home was long, but he made it just as the sun was rising.
Using the invitation he had been given before he entered her home and carried her up to her bedroom. Her body shook with every breath and silent tears ran down her face as he lay her on her bed. Biting his lower lip he tried to think of how to do this.
First he covered her up with a blanket at the foot of her bed. She had pressed her face into the pillow and took no notice of him. Hoping her could trust her he left her room and found his way to the bathroom. Once there he ran the hottest water he could till the bathtub was filled. Taking a deep and unnecessary breath he went back to where Buffy lay.
"Come on. Let's go put you in the bath. You can't just stay like this." He whispered kindly.
She didn't struggle. Even when he started to pull her clothing off her she just stared into space with tears streaming rivers down her cheeks. The only reaction she had to the entire thing was when he flesh hit the water. She squirmed as he laid her in it and whimpered when he took the wash cloth and wiped her face off. Carefully avoiding any uncertain areas he washed her off until she looked something of her normal self. The only difference was her eyes. They were empty.
Then he poured a cup of water over her hair to wet it down. Blood and ash washed out and drifted in the water. If she noticed she said nothing. Gently he lathered her hair with shampoo and rinsed it. Still she made no movement save for her chest rising up and down.
Feeling satisfied that she was clean he let the water out and pulled her into a standing position. Cautiously he wrapped a towel around her and carried her back to the bedroom.
"I don't want you getting sick so I'll dry you off." He muttered.
It was like talking to a brick wall. Pretending that she had given consent he rubbed her dry and squeezed her hair out. It took a bit of searching, but eventually he found her hairbrush and worked out the tangles. Another round through her drawers and he found a pair of boxers and a T- shirt. It wasn't easy dressing her, because she didn't help. Her body was as limp as a dolls. Once he had her wearing clothes he pulled the covers down and put her under them then tucked her in.
Then he waited. Finding a seat on the floor he passed the time until she found her senses.
"Spike?" She called after about an hour. Her voice took him by surprise. She sounded like small child who has lost it's mother.
"Yes." He answered sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why didn't you kill me? I wanted you to."
"I . . . know how you felt. I lost Dru there and . . . "
"Don't lie to me." She pleaded.
"I don't know. But I can't kill you."
She was silent for a moment. He thought that maybe she had drifted off to sleep when she spoke again.
"It hurts inside."
. "It always will." He replied taking her hand.
"Does it ever get better?"
"Oh, you'll numb it for a while, but the pain will always be there. Right behind your heart."
"What do I do?"
"When the pain hurts to much remember I'm always here."
Then she smiled a little and drifted off to sleep. He knew that she would heal. That her tears would dry and eventually she would be her old self again. But until then he would be by her side. He would stay where he was and not move. Maybe it was because he liked her, or maybe he loved her. Only his heart knew and it would never beat again.