"Red..."

She slowly opens her eyes and looks up at me. I can see the spark there in her green eyes. Even though her skin is translucent and wrinkled, her fiery red hair long surrendered to gray, her body small and frail -- I can still see my Red Witch in her eyes. "Spike," she whispers, "this is it."

My heart breaks. "Red, I don't...I don't want you to go."

She laughs a small chuckle, then moans as it wracks her body with pain. I place a cool hand on her shoulder for comfort. "Spike, not all of us have the luxury of immortality."

"I could have given it to you."

"No," she whispers. "Even with a soul, I wouldn't want the demon in my body. You will survive without me."

"No," I answer, "I won't. I'll be seeing the sun in the morning." And I was serious. I cannot live without my Red.

"No!" she hisses sharply. "Angel and Cordelia need you! You aren't leaving them! If you do, so help me goddess, I'll, I'll....haunt you for the rest of your life."

"I'll be dead, pet. You can't haunt me."

She snorts and turns slightly, telling me this conversation is over and I lost. I cross my arms and lean back in the lumpy hospital chair, my eyes gazing over her frail body.

Willow Rosenberg-Miller outlived everyone, even some of the children of our friends. She is now 101, and her body is finally giving up. The Slayer had been gone for almost seventy years now -- a whole lifetime ago. She had been the first of our group to pass away. Red had been hysterical that day. Her husband Graham and I were there for her, holding her, comforting her.

Anya passed next, a few years later. She and her only child had been killed in a car accident. It always amazed me how your life can change in an instant by someone you don't even know. The drunk driver that was stupid enough to get behind the wheel of that car got off easily in court, but they never found his body. Peaches and I made sure of that.

Her husband, Xander, had a nervous breakdown and moved in with Red and Graham. He had lost his wife and only child, and couldn't cope. The Millers were good to him though, they did everything they could to help ease the pain. Red thinks that they helped him, but they only delayed the inevitable. I knew when I looked at him, I knew that he was waiting for the right moment to join Anya and Alex Jr.

I was the only one who wasn't surprised when we walked into his bedroom one morning and there was an empty bottle of sleeping pills on the pillow by his head.

I think of all the funerals, Xander's was the hardest on her: harder than the Slayer's, harder even than her husband's. This was her oldest and dearest friend in the entire world. He knew more about Willow Rosenberg than she probably knew about herself.

A decade or so later, Giles passed away, peacefully in his sleep. I think he was around 73 or so. Red was thankful he didn't suffer. She truly loved him as a daughter loves a father. He was a father to all of them, listening and offering advice when they needed him, feeding them when food was hard to come by.

The Slayer's husband had remarried six years after her death, and lived a wonderful life with his new wife. She really was a sweet girl, but she was no Slayer. He had a massive heart attack the year after Giles died, which shocked us all. He was healthy, trim, and fit. The doctors still can't explain it. Red just figured the Slayer was ready for him to come home to her.

I was thankful Graham lived the longest. Red needed that close human companionship throughout her life. I honestly cried when Graham died. He was in his early sixties, in the military still. There was an attempt on his life -- he was pretty important in the government. They caught the assailant, so they thought. The night after the attempt on his life, Red found him on their doorstop, shot by a single sniper's bullet. She called me right away -- I had always been an important part of their lives.

Our relationship was strange, to say the least. Graham allowed me to come around, even though he knew how I loved her, and how she loved me. I took care of her when he was gone on business, and when he wasn't able to be there. The military seemed to take him away more often than not. Graham hated leaving, but was comforted in the feeling that his wife was being taken care of. Graham and I had become very close because of Red. I think of all my friends, I took his death the hardest. Of course, that was because Red was still alive.

I can assure you though, that sniper never saw the light of day again.

And now, Red's on her deathbed.

"Spike!" she says sharply.

I focus on her face, my memories of our friends shattering. "What?" I growl.

"Where have you been?"

"Thinking about friends past."

She weakly rolls her eyes. God, I love that woman. Her body's given up, but she's still got the spunk. "Don't wallow in your memories, Spike. It's time for me to go, so let me go. Remember all the good things about me."

"This, pet, is why vampires hate humans. We are immortal, you are not. It hurts to watch the ones you love die."

She laughs bitterly. "You don't think I know that? I've seen every one of my friends but you three damn vampires die. And I've seen YOU almost die."

I smile. "Speaking of damn vampires, I called them. They are on their way."

"Good," she says, pushing herself up. "I want to say goodbye to them too."

I fluff her pillows and she sits up on them. She reaches over and grabs a hairbrush, starting to run it through her hair. "Red?" I offer.

"No, I got it. I can still do things for myself, you know."

I chuckle. "Of course, pet."

"I just want to look nice for Angel and Cordelia." I roll my eyes. "Of course you do, pet." I sit back and watch her slow movements, wishing that Red would have let me change her, then curse her like Delia did with Peaches. They loved each other, those two, and they were perfect for each other. Peaches was thrilled she wanted immortality with him. Of course, Delia responded, "No, I just wanted to be beautiful forever." We all chuckled, but we knew she loved him and wanted to be with him always.

The door slowly opens. "No, Angel, it's not," Cordelia's voice drifts in.

"Yes it is," Peaches growls.

"Is what?" I ask my sire and his mate.

Cordelia grins. "My hair looks better than his, and he doesn't think so."

Red chuckles softly from her bed. "Do you guys ever stop?" she asks.

"Nope," Delia replies, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Are you hurting?"

"No," Red grins at her. "Drugs are wonderful."

Delia laughs.

Peaches leans over and kisses her forehead. "We made it."

"I'm glad," Red says. She closes her eyes. "Now that I've seen the rest of my family, I can go."

"No!" I cry, jumping towards her. "No, Red, not yet, please!" I'm begging, the finality of the situation sinking in. Once Red is gone, she's gone. Forever. No more green eyes smiling at me, nothing.

She opens her eyes. "I need to go."

"I love you," I sob.

"I love you too, Spike," she whispers, stroking my cheek. "Take care of Angel and Delia."

"I promise," I whisper.

She closes her eyes and her breathing stops. Within moments, her heartbeat is nonexistent.

Peaches puts his hand on my shoulder. I turn to him and wrap my arms around his waist and start to cry, holding on to my sire like a ninny.

*-*-*-*

Willow Rosenberg-Miller has passed on. My life will never be the same. No one will ever touch me like she did.