Three months on and I still see her face in that blurry moment of awakening.
I see her as I saw her last, standing by her mother's grave, shoulders slumped, a look of such sorrow and longing on her face as she watched me leave her again. Her mouth opened and I thought she'd call out to me, ask me to stay.
And, at that moment, I knew I wouldn't be able to deny her again.
But, she closed her mouth and lowered her eyes and turned away.
She looked defeated.
I should never have left her.
I should never have pulled so far away from her that I didn't know what was happening in her life.
I never knew about Glory.
If I'd known...
I can say that I would have been there for her, fighting alongside her. I can bluster that I would have stopped the demon from bleeding Dawn, that there would have been no need for Buffy to sacrifice herself.
But, no one really knows what would have happened.
And if I had gone to Sunnydale instead of Pylea, Cordelia would probably be dead.
Even though my heart would sacrifice anyone for Buffy, my soul would never measure one life against another, at least amongst those I care for.
Lindsey McDonald I probably could have sacrificed to the Grusalugg for the chance to save Buffy's life.
For us in L.A., life goes on. We continue to fight the good fight, save the innocents, make enough of a pittance to live modestly, much to Cordy's disgust. We're currently trying to determine why Wolfram and Hart wants this hotel, and what connection they have to Pylea.
Fred is working with us. She has no living family and lost her place at the university. She's applying again, trying to get grants, but none of us are sure she can handle the pressure of doctoral studies.
She's fragile in a way Buffy never was, and she lets me be her hero, even when I don't deserve it.
She never knew Buffy, but she likes to hear me tell her stories of the Slayer and the vampire who loved her. Fred's a romantic, and it helps me to talk about Buffy.
I never thought it would.
When it first hit me, when I saw Willow sitting there with such emptiness in her eyes, I wanted to scream until my voice shattered. I never wanted to speak of Buffy, I never wanted to think of her again.
And while awake, I could throw myself into work and violence and temporarily put her from my mind, in sleep I would remember.
I'd awake to the taste of her tears on my lips, the beauty only she possessed filling my eyes. My undead heart would constrict, wanting to implode in on itself from the pain of loss.
Yet, I knew this was inevitable.
All mortals eventually die, but Buffy was a Slayer and Slayers die young. Often they don't even make it to her age. The majority of Slayers die within the first three months of their calling.
I've known this forever, and accepted it deep inside myself from the moment I saw her. She was so vibrant and full of life, though, that it was easy to forget her destiny.
It was easy to ignore the signs of gradual wear and tear on both her body and soul.
When I left Sunnydale after the mayor's ascension, she was still strong and full of life. When we had that day only I remember, there was still heat and passion and a great desire to live inside her, but her sorrow had left scars on her. After I beat up Riley and she confronted me, I saw that she cared for the boy and liked school and enjoyed her life, but some of the vibrancy had worn away.
After her mother's funeral, I saw a girl overburdened and over stressed, yet I wrote it off as sorrow over her loss. I should have known it was more when I tasted death on her lips.
Buffy's kisses had always tasted of sunshine and flowers. But, that night, there was something bitter and cold covering the familiar. Again, I chalked it up to her mother's death.
I never thought that the slump of her shoulders was caused by her destiny becoming too much for her. I missed the signs that showed me that she was giving up, that she was reaching the point where life was too hard, fighting too futile.
That point all Slayers reach eventually.
Willow told me about the moment Buffy gave up. She believed that Buffy had gotten past that, but I know better. From that moment on, everything would have gotten harder.
Until it reached the point where she saw that the only choice she had was throwing herself into a portal.
Maybe it was the only choice. I wasn't there, so I don't know, but I do know that Buffy was tired.
Her destiny had destroyed her.
It was a moment I had consciously avoided thinking about, but one I knew would come.
I still wasn't prepared for it.
Three months on and I still see her, still hear her laughter, taste her kisses. I can feel her love surrounding me, and sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me from walking into the sun.
Cordy and Wesley think I didn't tell Buffy about shanshu because I didn't want to get her hopes up, but they're wrong. I didn't tell her, because I didn't want to get mine up.
Because deep inside I knew she didn't have much longer to live.
And that was something I couldn't face until I had no choice.
Now I face it every moment and the world is a little colder and emptier and more pointless without her.
But, I know Buffy, and she would have wanted me to keep fighting for my redemption and helping others, and so I do.
And I've found that talking about her, about the brief time we shared together, helps me accept her loss and move on with my life. Once I thought that even mentioning her name would destroy me, but just the opposite has happened.
Keeping her memory alive is keeping me alive.
And when I'm human again, I will kneel by her grave in the bright sunshine and weep warm tears and tell her I'll join her someday.
End