Disclaimer: not mine in the least. Song is Sarah McLachlan's, duh.
Rating: G-ish.
Spoilers: Becoming, or everything prior to it, to play safe.
Pairing: just Buffy/Angel this time.
Synopsis: alternate "Becoming", Buffy's pov. If you still haven't guessed, just read. And oh, yeah - angst warning, I suppose.
NOTE: this is my very *first* (and by God, *last*) pov fic. Frankly, I don' t know if it's any good, I know I very seldom read pov, let alone write it. Anyhow...be gentle? lol
Feedback: oh, yes, please.

Silence.

It's so painful. All of a sudden, like a sharp knife, it's cutting right through me, every cell of me. And it suddenly feels like there's more than one, like there are dozens, hundreds of knives, all piercing through me, every single one leaving after it a gap I already know I'll never be able to fill, to heal...

And it hurts, and burns, and tears my entire being into pieces again and again, and all that only because I look into his eyes.

His eyes.

My Angel's eyes. *My* Angel. I know who he is. I look into his eyes, and I know, and a part of me believes that maybe I know even before he does. He can't even speak yet, he's too disoriented to understand everything yet. He's gaping at me, and all I can see is helplessness, agony, as he repeatedly attempts to grasp at some sense inside the swirl of confusion. But I look behind him just once, only one glimpse, and I know he'll never be able to.

I look back at him, and again my head fills with thoughts, so many of them are racing where only a moment ago was hollowness, stumbling over each other, too many. Soon I can't even find my way through them anymore. I blink once, and when I open my eyes, I see his. And again, all common sense deserts me, I don't think anymore. I let myself melt and drown in those two dark pools of emotion, just like I used to do, and everything else is pushed to t he very back of my mind, to the murkiest of the murkiest corners, and for t his sole moment, he never left his bed all these months ago.

And I realize bitterly, though I never let the thought pass through the barriers of my subconscious, Xander was right. I hate to admit it, but he was. Jenny, Giles, Teresa, who knows how many more…they all fade away in an instant, I forget them all except in some place in that very back of my mind , and all I see is him. For that fleeting moment that I know is never to last, all I see is him.

"Buffy?…"

He says my name, and my breath is caught in my throat, almost causing me to choke, only that then I forget I need to breathe.

I still hold the sword in my hand, and it's suddenly shaking. A part of me, that tiny part of me that's still left conscious can't believe it. Only a couple of years back, I would have never thought I *could* pick up a sword, let alone hold it, swing it in the air…aim it... And now…my hand is shaking, *it* is shaking in my hand, quivering as though it weighted nothing, meant nothing. But it does to me. It means…everything.

"What's going on…" he's speaking again, and his voice tears into my thoughts until everything else disappears. And he's crying. I see the tears run down his face and all I want is to wipe them away forever. And I painfully recognize I can't even do that much.

He struggles up to his feet and for some reason I find myself darting backwards and away from his reach, or maybe it was my imagination…I don't even know.

"Where are we?" he looks around in confusion and I don't know what to answer him. "I-I don't remember," he whispers, still completely oblivious to his own tears or seemingly to everything…or everything but me.

And I know he doesn't. And abruptly something snaps in me, what I knew all along suddenly takes form that is beyond my subconscious and somehow manage s to process its way through my brain. "Angel," I whisper softly, and it appears that a part of me is still unsure, even though I knew all along.

For the first time, I see him consciously focused on something, and in a second I learn what it is. "You're hurt," he observes, and looks down on my wounded arm, as he gently reaches for the cut his own sword caused only several minutes ago.

His touch, something that used to be so natural for me, so necessary, now doesn't seem to affect me at all. I can just look into his eyes, apparently aimlessly, while my ears vaguely pick up remote voices, as he continues to murmur things I can no longer decipher into logic and don't care enough to try. Nothing can sway my mind off of his so familiar orbs, the same ones that are engraved forever in the very depth of my soul and yet I feel I see them now for the first time.

Suddenly, he pulls me into his arms, and crashes my body against his. My eyes remain wide open for another moment, as I feel him rain kisses down on m e, on my neck, my shoulder, my hair. I feel it, I feel *him*, I vanish in him, vanish completely, because I know that he has me, and that he holds me, and that he won't let me fall. I sink into oblivion and his arms around me are all that exists, all that I can feel or be cognizant of, and I use all my strength not to surface.

But the awakening still comes...and it is too brutally inconceivable for words.

"What's happening?" he asks in a wavering voice, and I know he doesn't have to turn around and see. My eyes reflect it too well and I lost long ago the ability to hide anything from him.

"Shh…" I manage a lie, "don't worry about it."

I slowly raise my hand and my palm caresses his lips and his face in a ghostly touch, and he leans into it like into his very salvation, and all the while, his eyes wouldn't even look at me. Unconsciously, our lips find each other and wouldn't let go. I slip my tongue into his mouth and it is soon engaged in a wild dance with his as we finally allow ourselves to let lose all the tormented passion we weren't allowed to release for months. I pull closer to him and he urges me upward simultaneously and the fire of our union heats up until I feel we'll explode if we don't stop, and I don't want to stop.

But I see the vortex. And I know I have to.

I force myself off, reluctantly, inside feeling as thought I'm being ripped into two when the renewed connection between us is no longer complete. But I ignore it, I must. I have no choice.

I swallow again, which becomes harder and harder due to the ever-growing lump of tears that's pressing my throat, and I dare to look up at him. I meet his eyes again, and though my mouth is open, my entire being suddenly becomes numb. I can't speak…I can't move. But for some inexplicable reason I can think again, real thoughts, actual thoughts…believe it or not, they have nothing to do with the greater good. They're about me. About *us*...

Whistler's words ring in my ears and only now I grasp their true meaning - "What are you prepared to give up", he asked me, and I brushed him off. I shouldn't have, I should have been ready, prepared for what's coming. But then again, aren't you meant to make the best decisions in the very last moment without having planned it all ahead? What if it is true? What if only in the last possible moment you are stricken with the ultimate right thing to do? It better be…

So…what is it that I'm prepared to give up?

There must be some tricky pattern about Slayers, they never like being pushed to the corner, nevertheless, making life-changing decisions seems to be a yet another Tuesday. I wonder if anyone ever pointed on that irony before. I remember, only a year ago or so, when I had to face the Master. I remember how scared I was from the sole concept of dying, of death. Still, until today I don't really know why was I, who faces death in every shape or form on daily basis, was so afraid of it. Was it because of the unknown, of the mystery of it? Or maybe…it was because it was finally my own?

But in the end of the day, what *is* death? 'Release from the pain of living'… I heard it somewhere, can't remember where right now. But if that is true, it shouldn't be a matter of 'giving up', but a matter of 'gaining'. So what *is* true?

I never was a person of big words or prolonged thoughts, I take what I need and the rest is just what makes things more complicated. The way I see it? Simple. Either I give up the life of my lover and gain the lives of every single person on this planet or…the other way around. See? Simple.

So which of the two am I prepared to give up?

Or better, which Hell am I prepared to unleash? The one with him, or the one without him?

When I look at myself now, only a year back, all I see is a frightened little girl. Sure, being the Slayer forged me into so much more than a 'girl', but still, when it came to facing death, that's exactly what I was. When the Master grabbed me and sank his fangs into my neck, I was just a girl. I w as sixteen. I'm seventeen today. Can a person really mature as much as I know I have over a year? No. Can *I* mature that much? Yes.

If anything, everything that happened taught me one very important lesson - a Slayer is born to give up, to sacrifice. The choices I make eventuate in either me sacrificing someone or me sacrificing myself. Either way, someone I love gets hurt. Maybe this is the very truth behind the solitude being a part of the Slayer. So this is the other thing I've learned - a Slayer doesn't belong to this world, no matter how much she tries to fit in. Maybe I'm wrong, who knows, there are way too many maybe's for me to count right now anyway and way too little time to do it, so I don't know. Not like I'm ever going to be here to find out. So see? Here you go, Buffy Summers made a yet another decision. The only difference this time is that…well, it's also her last.

Do I feel relief? Yes. And no. A little voice in my head is still humming, whispering…am I being selfish? I don't think so. And yet…I know I am. And I don't care. The last act of me as the Slayer is an act of selfishness. Why? Not because I refused to sacrifice the man I love for the sake of a world that wasn't meant to hold me in it past the age of twenty-five, but be cause I refuse to let him go alone.

I inhale a deep breath and then I suddenly feel it, really feel it. The relief, the peace. It comes out kinda morbid seeing as I'm going to Hell, but …I look at him, and I know, and even that little annoying voice in me knows, that it's right. I glance down on the sword in my hand, it's dangling loosely from my fist, as though utterly forgotten, and I clasp my fingers around it, steadying it, not with bravery, but with ultimate resolve. Resolve I almost forgot I could have.

My eyes drift back to Angel's and I find them, and I smile. Not with my mouth, I can't, but I feel the green in my orbs dances and sparkles and I know he sees it, even though he probably doesn't understand. I reach up and put my hand on the back of his neck and gently angle his head down to brush my lips over his one last time.

As he straightens back up, I catch a glimpse of the continuously widening portal behind him and a small bit of fear manages to creep its way into my heart, but only for a split second, because then I gaze at him again.

I swallow, and run my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. "I love you," I tell him, my voice maybe weak, and maybe quiet, and maybe there are too many tears in it, all of them I still can't bring myself to shed, no matter how forceful they become inside. But I know he hears past all that, and that he knows. And I don't need to wait long for a response.

"I love you," he replies hoarsely, his hands, though still shaking a little, hesitantly pull me close to him, almost regaining their rightful possessiveness of my body. And I look at him, look at the tears in his eyes, the tears that are pouring down his cheeks and without even knowing, I finally allow mine to overflow, and released, they wash all over me, all over us, but neither of us minds them.

I draw in another deep breath and fix my gaze on him again, for several moments I know are still ours I just gaze at him, saying nothing. But then… "Close your eyes," I whisper, my voice pleading though without hesitation, he simply obeys.

I release the air stored in my burning lungs and draw nearer, pressing my face into his chest, relishing the intoxicating coolness of his flesh as his strong arms lock around me in a tight embrace, full with so much love and trust I know I'm taking with me into eternity, wherever eternity is.

I lift my hand that's still holding the sword and suddenly feel the full weight of it in my grasp. I hold it up some more, and a little bit more, until it's set just right, even if I can no longer see it. I know it'll be over soon.

One more second, and I thrust it through him, I feel him tremble momentarily, but he doesn't unfold his arms from around me, and a moment later, the icy blade slices again, this time, through me.

I gasp, only once, but I don't move. There's pain, but I'm too numb to feel it, or maybe the pain was what made me too numb. My legs can no longer hold the weight of my body and if he weren't holding me, I know I would probably collapse to the stony floor of the mansion where our blood is dripping right now, and as I my lids begin to close over my eyeballs, I rest my face against his chest and inhale one last time, and it's his smell. He's still holding me, and I know the pain is still there, and that he feels it, but I know it will all be over in an instant, that it won't last forever. But I know that we will.

And then… there's silence.

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