A/N: And another new story… This one doesn't involve anything that's happened in Angel, so it's just continuation of the seventh season… well, more or less anyway.
Five years had passed since the closing of the Sunnydale Hellmouth. The power of all the Slayers had been recaptured in the Scythe, mainly because it had been agreed that it wasn't fair to have so much strength running around in the world.
Buffy sat in her apartment, on the edge of her bed, gazing out at the pouring rain. She did this everyday. She sat, holding her left hand, still feeling the flames from five years ago.
Today, it was the anniversary… At three o'clock it had been the exact time. A tear slid down her cheek. She had been fine for the first year… then when the power of the other slayers had been given back to her… the pain came back.
She reached up and wiped the tear away. He had died a hero. For her. If she hadn't loved him at that moment, she definitely did now. Flashes kept coming back to her as she sat on the bed, her head tilted as she watched the rain pour down.
A knock on her door ripped her thoughts away. Spike!
"Buffy?" It was Willow. Mentally, she slapped herself. Every creak in the floor she thought was him. But it never was. "I have a Christmas tree. We can decorate it…"
Buffy sighed and walked over to the door, unlocking it slowly and opening it.
"How are you feeling today?"
She shrugged slightly and walked over to her couch; sitting on the edge and watching Willow drag a small box into the room.
"You look better," She said cheerfully, opening the box and pulling out a small, plastic tree, "You feel any better?" she started to hang gold baubles on the tree. Buffy watched her reflection in the baubles, seeing the flames erupt from their hands over and over in her mind.
She wrapped her arms around herself and watched the decorations on the tree going up. Christmas was nothing without him… The last three years had proved that.
Angel had taken over an evil law firm in Los Angeles, generously donating an apartment block to her and her friends. The apartments inside were huge. There was a penthouse on top which Willow and Kennedy shared, and a big reception area on the first floor. The basement had been off limits from day one. Buffy had made it into a shrine to remember him. He would have hated it… but she didn't. It helped her remember.
Buffy took a room on the fifth floor. It was small, and the rest of the floor was deserted. She had asked to have it to herself in the first year…
She pulled his lighter out of her pocket and began to play with it seconds before Willow's hand covered hers.
"Sweetie… I told you yesterday, you can't play with that until you get better. I don't want any accidents…" she gently took the lighter from Buffy, "The pain will lessen…eventually."
Buffy knew she spoke from experience. She had lost Tara. But another person had been made for her. Kennedy. Buffy had already had her fair share. Angel, Riley… Spike.
Xander spent all of his time with Andrew. Andrew was the only one that could provide him with information about Anya. The only one who could really tell him anything... Another tear escaped Buffy's eye, running down her cheek. Anya was another one they lost.
She lost too many on that day. Far too many. She shivered as she remembered him again. Smiling as he saved the world. For her…
Willow wrapped her arms around Buffy's small frame as she shook with sobs.
"Shhh…" she whispered, rocking back and forth with her, "I know…" Buffy snuggled closer to Willow, her pain pouring through her in violent shakes.
Soon, Buffy calmed herself. Deep breaths…
Willow held her at an arms length and looked deep into her eyes sympathetically. They did this almost everyday. Buffy was eternally grateful to have Willow to lean on… She was always there, helping with food and cleaning and whatever Buffy needed help with…
Buffy hadn't spoken a true sentence for years. She had almost forgotten how. Everything was spoken to her. She nodded or shook her head… her friend's had become accustomed to her depression, though, Willow and Xander were the ones that helped the most. Dawn was there if Buffy took a bad turn, as was Giles. Faith tried when she could. Though the slaying duties were shared, Faith was the one that killed the most in a night… there was not much Buffy could do. Punning had long since left her vocabulary…
Willow dropped her arms to her sides and walked back over to the tree, which she continued to decorate.
Night fell quickly, and the rain still hadn't stopped. Regardless of the weather, Buffy shuffled over to her wardrobe and pulled out a pair of jeans and a white sating cami, lines with lace. She took her leather jacket out and folded it over her arm, taking her apartment key as she walked out the door.
She ignored the lift and walked to the stairs. Elevators had begun to remind her of what happened with Glory…
She jogged down the stairs, slipping on her jacket. She looked like any young woman going out for a night with the girls. Instead, she was the Slayer, going out on another pointless night of Slaying.
She walked half heartedly to the local cemetery. By coincidence, it had been called Restfield. Every time she saw the sign she shuddered inwardly. It was like a sign.
She pulled her stake out of the waist band of her pants and squelched through the muddy ground. The weather was playing out her feelings. She knew it.
A silhouette stalked her through the shadows. If it killed her tonight, she wouldn't have a problem with it.
She felt it watching her. She heard it moving. Then she saw it. Her eyes widened and a strangled cry escaped her lips as it tackled her to the ground pinning her beneath it.
It was moments later that she saw who it was. It was another dream. It had to be. She couldn't stop the tears that came to her eyes as she saw him. She mouthed his name, but no sound came out. Her vocal chords shut down after the first year reunion.
Vampire mask took over his face as he smelled her. She drew back a fist and punched him. For causing her all that pain. She always did this in the dreams. Always hurt him.
You always hurt the ones you love.
She got up off the muddy ground, rain washing the dirt away from her. Tears poured from her eyes, mixing with the rain. He got up off the ground and slipped out of his mask.
His hair was brown now… and long. It was wet, making it darker than it normally was in her dreams… He wore rags… stained with blood.
Her bottom lip quivered as she saw the cuts and bruises that invaded his body. His hands were scraped up and his feet were bare. Then she looked into his eyes and she knew it wasn't a dream. In her dreams she could never see his eyes. Instead, his hair covered them. Now, they were there. As clear as anything. Bluer than the sky on a hot summer's day.
She reached out and stroked his cheek. He pulled back, his face expressionless. Rain poured down over both of them, though, he was the only one of the two who shivered. She watched him through blurred eyesight, unsure of what to do.
Tenderly stepping forward, she maintained eye-contact, reaching out for his hand and taking it in her own. When he flinched, she did too, but didn't let go of his hand.
Slowly turning, she led him back to the apartment block, taking him up the stairs and into her room. Then, watching him as she backed into the wardrobe, she went to find some towels and medical supplies before sitting him on the couch with her…
A/N: Please review… Tell me what you think. Thank you.