Summary: Buffy's pov sometime in around Becoming.
Spoilers: Through the second season.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, no matter how much I wish they
were. < sigh > They belong to Joss Whedon and the WB I have to live
with borrowing them for my stories.
Rating: Read it, everyone! :)
by: Amy
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"What tears I might have shed for your dark fate,
grow cold, and turn to tears of hate."-- Christine;
The Phantom Of The Opera
~~~~~
It'll end tonight. I'll finish it as I should have so long ago; the night I found out. But I was weak and selfish, too sure that things would go my way again. I should have known that life is only like that once; that happiness and peace can't be regained once you've lost them.
I could say I didn't know until I saw him in the hallway holding Willow in that hurting grip. I could pretend that I didn't understand as soon as I woke up to find his pillow empty. But I would be lying. I knew. I knew the second I woke up and he wasn't there. Denying it to myself worked, as I didn't know how I knew and was sure my paranoia was unfounded. But I should have realized that our kind of love carried a bond; It was that exact thing that I felt deep inside of me, the completeness when he was in my arms and the emptiness when I woke up and he was gone.
I hate crying myself to sleep almost every night. Some nights are better than others, sometimes I can forget long enough to fall asleep. I've always hated myself when I cry, something so pointless for someone with my fate to do. Still though, sometimes I wake up in my own bed and touch my pillow, expecting him to be there. And I have to feel that emptiness all over again when I find nothing more than a cold and lonely pillow.
That's why I have to end it.
I say I'm doing it for the world. I can pretend I'm being noble and honorable but I'm not. I'm doing it so that when I open my eyes each morning, I won't touch my pillow anymore. I'm doing it so that my dreams won't be dreams that fill me with a delicious ache, and disappoint me when I wake up, but nightmares that let me know what my life will be like when I get out of bed. Saving the world is only an excuse. Maybe I wouldn't even do it now without that excuse, but I'm not doing it for the world. I'm doing it for me.
Ever since I met Angel, he's been my biggest challenger. He's made me think about things and feel things that I always thought I was incapable of; he's opened my eyes to the wonder of things around me, taught me that dreams were real if you believed hard enough. And then he taught me about nightmares. Even the way he looks at me now holds a hint of challenge, his eyes saying that he wants me like he wants no other, his lips curving into that beautiful smile that I hate. I want him too. I want to fight him, I want to make love to him, I want to make him scream in pain and I want to make him scream in pleasure.
That's why this will end tonight.
No more weeping in my loneliness, it's my loneliness that will help me do this. My loneliness and my love for what we had that was so pure. I never thought I would find out what perfection was, but I did. We created perfection together.
That will help also.
So now I get ready. I grip the handle of the sword firmer in my palms and envision myself stabbing him through with it. I will watch his blood flow, will watch Hell take him where he belongs and I might let myself cry one last time. I will feel the satisfaction that will come with killing the greatest of his kind, I will feel the pain that will come with killing the greatest of mine.
It'll end tonight.
The End