RATED: PG
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX.
This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended.
SUMMARY: Buffy's thoughts after she jumps. More than a drabble, but still
very short.
SPOILERS: "The Gift" in a BIG way.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Unbeta'd. Please forgive any mistakes.

I Am
By Nymue


I am -- yet what I am, none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes --
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love's frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live -- like vapours tossed

'You think you know ... who you are, what's to come? You haven't even begun.'

'The power of the Slayer is rooted in darkness.'

'He knew more about my power than I do ... I need you to be my Watcher again.'

'Death is your art ... you make it with your hands ... every Slayer has a
death wish ... you're a little bit in love with it.'

'Our blood ... Summers blood.'

'Death is your Gift.'

'She was made from me ... she is me.'

I understand now. Everything. It all makes sense and suddenly all those
years of wondering, worrying and anger seem trivial. My life, all that I am,
was waiting for this moment. This is why I was born, why I was Called and
why I survived all my battles, one way or another.

This is the work I have to do. It's my work and no one else's, for no one
else could do these deeds. The hardest battle I've ever fought, the hardest
plan to take ... and yet easily the simplest. I live for this.

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest that I love the best
Are strange -- nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I understand. They will hurt and grieve for me, and I love them all. I will
always love them, no matter the time or place. Even here, in this vast
vacuum of nothingness and creation I love them. My beautiful sister Dawn who
is myself, my beloved father who did not give me form but gave me life, my
funny, quirky, powerful witchy Willow, my true and steadfast Xander. Tara
whose gentle spirit will comfort them, and Anya who will remind them of life.

I think I even love Spike, now ... he who will protect my sister.

And my Angel ... he is my soul. Always.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.

I understand. But I am tired now, so very tired. I have fought this battle
in their name, and for the names of those I can no longer remember. I am
cold and tired. I live for them, to give them this gift, the greatest I can
give. Sweeter than chocolate, better than hugs, more important than strength.

I fight still ... but the battle is nearly over.

Almost done, now ... I am the Slayer and I will see this to its end.

Just one more ... I am loved and I will always love.

My last gift to them.

Yes.

I understand.

Peace.


END

poetry: "I Am" by John Clare

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