Summary: Buffy, post-Angel. Very depressing
stuff.
Spoilers: Through GD2.
Disclaimer: Joss. The song at the end is called "Beautiful Goodbye" and is
sung by Amanda Marshall. (Thanks Trace!)
Rating: PG13
Feedback: It makes a girl happy.
by: Amy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her sleep terrorized her. Questions without answers, no answers anymore.
She remembered a time when she lacked no information, when every hidden thing
shined brightly in her mind. A time when she was loved, when she was
special.
A time before he left her.
It had been a long year for her. Loving him from afar and finally being able
to hold him again. The randomness with which they were chosen for each other
screamed at her and she loved that, too. How rare it was for a Slayer and
a
vampire to fall in love. How seemingly impossible.
Without her Watcher knowing about it, she perused his books to find out a
question that had been plaguing her since her lover's departure. At last
she
found it, and read shocked, what it had said. 'A blood bond ties more deeply
than anything on record. It can create love or hate, or cement the feeling
that already exists.'
She had gone home crying after she read that. Cement the feeling that
already existed meant that she would never love another, which is why he
had
left, to give her that. It meant that he would never love another. And the
small part of her that would take satisfaction in knowing she was right was
too overwhelmed by the broken part of her heart. The king's men could never
put her back together.
She was slipping, slipping. Reality became a far off place that she had
visited as a child. Her movements in battle became stilted and stiff; she
was beaten again and again. She broke off relationships, slowly, painfully.
She didn't need anyone. And they didn't need her.
Willow tried, Buffy knew she did. Willow would come over and smile brightly,
trying to coerce her into being happy. And she would smile back and nod,
her
mind distant from the conversation, not caring enough to pretend anymore.
Her smile was thin, stretched tightly across her face, and Willow would go
home holding back tears for her friend who was dying by choice. Dying
because she wanted to. Dying because she felt alone.
One time, Buffy said that to her, in a rare moment of listening to Willow's
concerns. "Loneliness can kill, Willow," she had whispered. And it could.
It was killing her to not be with the one she would love for the rest of
time.
Beyond life, beyond death, beyond truth and lies and love and blood. He was
inside of her forever and she would think of that as she rolled around in
her
bed at night, trying to sleep. Trying to not think, to not hurt, to not cry.
She was a warrior, but the fight had gone out of her. Too many fights over
too many days and months and years.
She kept in required touch with Giles, but she was closed off. No longer
did
that light sparkle in her eyes, no longer was she the same girl that he had
grown to care for so much. He would offer her his shoulder, his ear, but
she
would decline, not caring that he was the only father she really had. Not
caring that he would bite his lip with such a worried expression when he
saw
her.
Why should she? Everyone did.
She used to be beautiful, it was something she had always been able to like
about herself. But then he left, her angel left, and her looks faded. She
hadn't realized how much of herself was wound up in being whole, being
satisfied. Her hair was listless and dull, her eyes faded, her skin a sickly
pallor. Her body had become thin and almost weak, as she refused food. The
glitter that she used to be had been reduced to a colorless existence. But
even that, even her resolve to stay alive, was fading with time.
Every night she would walk into the bathroom to shower. She would take off
her clothes, slowly, piece by piece and then turn on the water. And then
she
would sit on the floor of the bathtub and stare at what seemed a tempting
choice.
The razor offered ways out.
She would stare at it for an hour, her body growing soft and pruned under
the
soft pelts of the water, and she would wish for the courage to bring it
across her wrist. End the pain, the sadness, the torture of being without
him. A little blood-- her life's blood-- would end it.
She thought about it every day.
One time, she had tried to call him. One time, she had tried to make the
pain a little less by hearing his voice, maybe hearing him say that he loved
her. Maybe that would have made the difference that she needed.
As she had held the phone to her ear and heard the soft rings, though, she
could only think of his previous words. 'I'm not going to say goodbye....
If
we get out of this alive, I'm just going to leave.' And then his face washed
her mind and she fell into tears once again, throwing the phone down into
the
cradle. Throwing her only lifeline away.
Sobbing, she had rushed to the shower and stepped in with her clothes on
to
look at the razor again. Her clothes quickly became wet and stuck to her
body but she paid no attention as her fingers lightly stroked the sharp
metal. It was soothing, and her heart calmed as she did it, calmed enough
to
let her finally pull away and get out of the shower.
She didn't think the tears would ever stop.
The downward spiral into darkness had claimed her and she could see no other
way of escaping. She wanted to die. Without taking action, she would, but
slowly. Too slowly. It had to happen sooner than what was coming years from
then.
She began hearing Angel's voice in her head. 'You have another choice,
Buffy. You don't really want to die that way.' And she would try to tell
him that he was right, that she wanted to die years and years from then,
asleep and in his arms, but that that option had been ripped away from her.
And then his voice would become soothing and he would try to convince her
that it was really his voice, talking to her mind, and she would laugh.
Laugh and laugh. "I'm going crazy!" she screamed, almost joyously.
Or maybe it was his voice, and the connection that they would always have
had
found a new and fun way to torture her. Maybe when she saw his velvety smile
in her thoughts, he was smiling from wherever he was and trying to talk her
down off the ledge that she perpetually stood on.
But what did that matter? He wasn't coming back.
Her dreams taunted her, and she always saw him walking away. Why had she
let
him walk away? She should have run into his arms, she should have let
herself be weak to save what they were together. She shouldn't have let him
leave, into the night, into nowhere.
She had, though. And she had no one to blame but herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow knocked on the door of the small apartment, pasting a smile on her
face for when Buffy answered. After a moment, she took the hidden key from
the soil of the plant on the stoop and fitted it into the lock. With tears
in her eyes, she lightly shoved the door open and stepped inside.
Placing her bag on the couch, she looked towards the bedroom and sighed,
knowing that Buffy would be there, be crying, needing her but refusing to
acknowledge it. She quietly walked over and opened the door, sticking her
head in.
Finding no one there, she turned to the bathroom. She knocked softly and
waited for Buffy's weary, tired voice to tell her to come in.
Nothing. Another knock.
Willow leaned in, knowing that Buffy never left the apartment unless it was
to give a cursory patrol. It was day. She had to be there.
She heard a drip of water in what sounded like a full bathtub. Willow
wrinkled her forehead worriedly and knocked harder on the door, harder and
harder until her hand was sore. She began to yell, shaking the locked knob.
"Buffy!!! Buffy, let me in!"
Giving it a sharp, hard tug, the lock broke and Willow thrust the door open
frantically, her screams of fear dying into silence.
The water was a light pink, and Buffy's wet hair was painted to her scalp.
Willow walked forward, numb, and sat down on the floor, lifting her best
friend's lifeless hand. Some blood dripped over her fingers and she opened
her mouth silently, in complete shock.
Looking around, still holding Buffy's hand, Willow spotted a sheet of paper.
On it, only a handful of words. ~I'm sorry. Goodbye.~
Only then, did Willow allow herself to cry.
The End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~I'm fed up with my destiny
And this place of no return...
I think I'll take another day,
and slowly watch it burn.
It doesn't really matter
How the time goes by.
'Cause I still remember you and I
and that beautiful goodbye.
I staggered through these empty streets,
laughing on and on.
When night had made a mess of me,
your confessions kept me warm.
I don't really miss you.
I just need to know,
Do you ever think of you and I...
And our beautiful goodbye?
When I see you now, I wonder how
I could have watched you walk away.
If I let you down, please forgive me now
For that beautiful goodbye.
In these days of no regrets,
I keep mine to myself.
And all the things we never said,
I can save for someone else.
And nothing lasts forever,
But we always try.
And I just can't help but wonder why
We let it pass us by.
When I see you now, I wonder how
I could have watched you walk away.
If I let you down, please forgive me now
for that beautiful goodbye.
Baby, what can I do?
Oh, to get through to you?
And sometimes I cry
It's a fool's lullaby.
Sometimes I cry... Yeah...
It's a fool's lullaby....~
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