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ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES

By: fairviewim
folder BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 210
Views: 10,385
Reviews: 182
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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THE LETTER

CHAPTER 3 - THE LETTER

"Good night, dad, night Dawn," Buffy said.

"Good night, Buffy," Dawn and her dad echoed from the living room.

After their reunion, complete with tears, they had talked all day. Hank had ordered out Chinese for them, and had seemed genuinely glad to see both his girls.

Buffy was glad, particularly for Dawn, who hadn't had a real father figure in so long. She was eating up his attention, and had quickly gotten into the idea of staying there as 'daddy's little girl,' especially with a nearby mall and the use of a car and daddy's credit cards.

Buffy had decided after dinner, that she'd had enough of the fatherly-make-up-for-lost-time-feel-good-a-thon, and had told them she was going to bed.

Since there was only one small bed in the guestroom, Dawn had decided she would sleep on the couch, until Buffy left.

She closed the door to the bedroom. After Buffy put on her pajamas, she sat on the edge of the bed, opened her purse, and took out the envelope wrapped in plastic.

As she unwrapped it, she smelled Spike, smelled his leather coat, smelled his brand of cigarettes, and most of all, smelled him. As she opened the bulky envelope, she knew why. Inside there was a piece of his black leather coat, cut into a heart shape, a mostly empty cigarette pack, his trusty lighter, a map he’d drawn, and the letter.

Blinking back the tears, she wiped her eyes with the edge of her pajama top.

She opened the letter, looking at his familiar, old-fashioned handwriting.


Dear Buffy,

If you are reading this, then you know I am no longer alive, or undead, rather. If you are reading this then you know I am gone.

If you are reading this then you are alive, you are living!

I don't plan on coming back from this fight, if that's what it takes to keep you safe. Sorry, but you are not going to be the one to take 'one for the team' this time, Slayer. It's my turn.

I've lived and I've died. It's your turn now, to have what you've always wanted - a normal life.

Today when you told everyone your plan, to share your power, my heart was filled with happiness for you, even if it meant that I wouldn't be around to share it. You no longer have to be The One. No longer chosen, and all that stuff.

To me, though, you will always be The One! You are the one who filled my cold heart with warmth, my blackness with light, my being with a conscience, even before I got my soul.

You are My Chosen. If I could have had any woman in all the world, I would still have chosen you to love, to give my heart to forever. Even when I'm gone, you have my heart and all of my love. Forever, Buffy, forever.

And through it all, I know that you've loved me, too. Please don't worry that you didn't say it enough to me these past couple of months, or not at all. I've known your heart, as you've known mine. And your heart is golden!

Now onto some business:

When we were in Julian, that evening, after the Hot Springs, when you were taking a shower, I called Edna's son Lawrence McKennitt, Jr., to make some arrangements regarding the house. I had him make out a will, deeding the house to you, and leaving a good amount of money in an account for Dawn to use for college. And of course, there's money for you, too - to use as you see fit.

Lawrence has had my power of attorney before, so things should all be in order. I was going to have him send the paperwork to your house, but once we got back, I realized that would be risky, what with the postal service being all wonky, the chance of important papers getting lost, and most of all, you. I knew you would never, ever be able to discuss this rationally with me, so I called Lawrence and had him send the paperwork to The Rittenhouse instead. Edna should have it for you. All you have to do is contact him at this number: 760-555-1382, and he will arrange to meet you either there or at his home/office in San Diego, in order to make things all legal-like.

Another thing, I packed up a box of your belongings and some of mine, just in case something happened to all of us, and we couldn't get back to your house. I called Clem on his cell phone. Luckily, he was only visiting some friends in San Diego. He got a ride back here, well to the edge of town, where I met him and gave him the box. It will be at the house up there. He also took my car, so if you need some ls…tls…the DeSoto is there also.

Hope you didn't bust anyone's chops if you noticed things were missing.


Vamp1 to Slayer 1: :)> That's me smiling, with fangs!

Please know that I want you to do whatever you want, in regards to the house. If you want to live there, that's fine, if you want to sell it, that's fine, too. I just want you to have it, but not be bound by it, or by me.

If Clem is still around, I'm sure he'll help you anyway he can. He knows about my wishes, the house, and pretty much all that I've told you about that.

I've included the only things I have on me to give you - a piece of the duster, (from the pocket, I couldn’t’ just cut it right out of the front of the coat now, could I? Didn’t think you’d want me to be fighting beside you, looking like a poof, right? The ubies might roll over with laughter, but don’t think it’d kill ‘em. Besides, think I’ve rather ‘outgrown’ the whole duster thing, don’t you?) and my smokes and lighter. It's all I have. That and my heart, my very soul, and all of my love.

Live, so one of us is living.

Please live for me, Buffy.

My love always,

Spike

P.S. Say hello to Snowman Spike for me, if you see him again sometime.

P.S.S. Take good care of the DeSoto, change the oil every 3,000 miles, and don’t put it in 2nd gear until you are at least going 25mph, 40mph+ for 3rd gear. The clutch slips sometimes, just play with it. It may need to be adjusted. Don’t’ take it to some bargain garage, ok? You can drive a stick, can’t you?


Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, tears spilling onto the pages of the letter.

She hugged the heart to her face and inhaled the scent.

"Thank you, Spike," she whispered.

Finally, she folded the pages of the letter and put them back into the envelope, along with the cigarettes and lighter, and turned out the light.

She put the heart on a spare pillow, right next to her face and inhaled deeply, pretending it was Spike next to her, sharing her bed.

Happy tears spilled down her face, tears of relief.

After a month of uncertainty, for the first time, she knew what direction home was.

END CHAPTER 3
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