*********
I sometimes watch him. I watch him sleep, eat, laugh. He doesn't smile as often as I would like. I suppose that's partly because of me.
When I died, I took a part of him away, the part of him that loved me. That piece of his heart was large, I know now. As much as I hate him mourning me like he does, I would be lying to say that it doesn't make me feel special. But Rupert always made me feel special.
I knew, from the moment I saw him, that there was something about him that would make me love life. Gypsies, as a rule, usually tend to lap life up, drink it in and love it's gift. But this was different. I knew that I would love life because he was in mine.
I had always been more reserved than my clan. Not mild by any of the more public standards, but within my family's circles, I was the one to be counted on, who was supposed to take on a great deal of responsibility. I learned that at an early age from my uncle. Imagine that, telling a six-year-old that the weight of the lives of the clan rested on her. Maybe knowing that forced me to grow up stronger, and more accountable.
*****
I never wanted that life, really. A life of keeping secrets, especially from those who trusted me with theirs. But I did my duty. I'm like Buffy in that respect, I suppose. Maybe in some other things, too. It flatters me to think that about myself, as she is a bright, strong person.
I remember the night of the Spring Fling, years ago. It was right after Buffy had been killed and brought back to life. Rupert, my beloved Rupert, danced with her to ease her pain. I watched them, wanting to feel that kind of love, the kind where someone cared about you more than they cared about themselves. Even then, I wanted it from him.
********
I remember our first kiss. Not chaste, like I had expected, but steamy and passionate, tongues dueling, hot breath. He had taken me out to a movie that night. I don't even remember what it was, I was so nervous. Not that I showed him at all. I tried to remain aloof and sophisticated, even with this wonderful, brilliant man at my side, in the dark, his hand groping for my own. I laughed at the appropriate intervals, and proceeded in convincing him that I wasn't trembling at his touch.
At my door, he kissed me. I knew then what eventually must happen between us. My grandmother said that I was kissed with a touch of foresight. I believed it to be more just common sense. How was I going to keep who I was from the man I was rapidly falling in love with? How was I going to keep it from the friends who were quickly becoming more dear to me than I thought possible in a person?
And yet, I pushed those thoughts out of my head, in respect to the kiss and the sweet thoughts it was conjuring.
*******
The night I died was one of the best nights of my life, strange as it may sound. I had finally righted everything, or had everything at least worked out. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, the words at the end of the long silence that had been between us.
He invited me to his house. Looking a little startled and a lot pleased, I accepted. I was sure that everyone would forgive me fully as soon as I was done with the curse. His eyes were bright green, and he had that nervous smile on his face, the one I had come to cherish. He and I both knew what was finally going to happen between us. I cursed myself silently for having wasted so much time. Telling the truth long before anything came of my lies would have saved everyone immense pain.
I am glad that I was forgiven before I died, though. There are always rainbows to be found, no matter how small.
*******
Later, after Rupert found my body, I found myself in the middle of Buffy's dining room. I was trying to rid myself of the memory of the hollowness behind his eyes when he saw my body, lying there, limp and cold. Buffy picked up the phone, her voice friendly and happy when she realized it was her Watcher.
He told her. I heard his voice, dead sounding, with the beginnings of a rage that would kill him. I will never forget the look on Buffy's face, or Willow's. Buffy dropped the phone and leaned against the wall, saying nothing. She slid down, bringing her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. I saw her tears start, and I was crying too. 'No, Buffy! It's not your fault! It's mine.... Please, please don't do this to your heart. It might not heal,' I wept. She didn't hear me.
For Willow it was just as horrible, in a slightly different way. Willow had been my friend. I knew she thought of me as someone who she would like to be like when she was older. She often confided in me when we were alone after class about her dreams, about the future. I knew she felt like she was betraying Buffy sometimes when she did that, but I felt a special bond with her also. It tore at my soul to watch her mourn me as she did.
But I watched. I couldn't do anything else.
*******
And now I watch him. I still try to talk to him, maybe only comforting me. I see him look at my picture before bed every night, and I wish that it was me he was looking at. I hate his tears, and I hate that I'm the one that makes him cry them. When he's asleep, I crawl into bed beside him, pretending that I'm really there, hoping that he'll wake up and see me.
He never does.
The End