Hung Out To Dry

By Elka

Title: Hung Out to Dry
Author: Elka Carpenter
Email: [email protected]
Rating: PG13 - bit o' language, subject matter
Part: 5 of 5
Order: Follows Part 4. Genius!
Spoilers: Some season four, I'm making the rest up as I go along.
Distribution: http://wonder.tentex.com/~breathe
Disclaimer: Joss, WB, Fox, and Mutant Enemy get BtVS. Natalie Imbruglia
gets
'Smoke'. I get everything else.
Feedback: I lick those that don't comment.
Author's Notes: Finished. Comments?
More Notes: I didn't have someone American check this, so ignore the
British
spellings and any American grammar errors.

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        Willow loved the way the moonlight reflected in the blade, gleaming
above
and below her head at the same time. She passed it over her skin, just
skimming the surface, practising. The tears were gone. She was through
crying, for now. She knew they would come, after the deed was
committed,
then it would be over. The thought strangely comforted her.

        "Not the way to go."

        Her attention shot to him. "You keep following me; I'm going to think
you
care."

        "Maybe I do. Is that so hard to believe?" Spike answered, advancing
slowly.
"Don't you think I've fingered a stake before? Wondering if one thrust
through the heart wasn't necessary?"

        She shook her head. "Don't stop me. I know that's why you're here.
You're
going to go through all the reasons why I shouldn't go through with it,
I'm
going to break down and give you the knife. Then we'll make sweet love
in
the moonlight, confessing our love to each other. Isn't that the way
the
plot runs?"

        "Sometimes." He answered honestly. "You're being awfully peckish about
your
life here, luv."

        "The pain. It's too much. I can feel everything. I feel his death, the
coldness." She stared down at the blade. "Oz said we were like Romeo
and
Juliet once, without the deadness. He said we'd prove them all wrong,
live
on forever and forever in a happy Verona. Instead we break up and a
demon
hunter kills him while I wallow in my own foolish self-pity."

        "Not foolish, it's not."

        "Bleeding is breathing. Someone told me that once. I heard it.
Somewhere.
Bleeding is believing."

        "Don't talk like that."

        "Like what? Someone in pain? Someone who got a fucking telegram
telling her
her lover had been killed? Is that wrong? I don't think so." Her tears
took
over, running down her face as she pulled her arms further in her
jacket.

        "Give me the knife." Spike approached her, hand extended. He stared at
her
evenly.

        Willow handed him the knife, relenting like she said she never would.
He
took it and sat beside her on the cold asphalt.

        "It's like I've been hung out to dry." She whispered, arms held
tightly to
her chest.

        Spike knew. All of a sudden, he knew too much. He realized he had
underestimated the bond the two had held. The love they had shared. It
really was Romeo and Juliet.

        "It's not over, is it?" He asked.

        Willow shut her eyes, letting the light of the stars dance on her
face.
"It's over. It is now."

        He felt the ripping inside him. He reached over, pulling at her hands.

        The blood. So much blood, spilled from the jacket, the cuts on her
wrists.
The jagged crisscrossed marks leaked their fresh red pain. He had no
time
for expression, no time to feel what he saw.

        She sunk into his arms, staring up at him with half-dead eyes. It made
her
weak.

        The whisper fell from her lips was her last.

        "Like I've been hung out to dry..."

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The End
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