Okay, here's the third part of this trilogy.
trilogy. Always Watching (#3)
type. Short Story
rating. This one's pretty safe.
summary. Another little angsty piece, okay it's *very* angsty. I'm depressed, what can I say? Anyway, it's the sequel to Almost Whole and Set You Free.
disclaimer. I own nada, don't sue.
spoilers. Um everything and anything related to Buffy and Angel!
distribution. Anyone can have it, but ask first! And send the URL of your page. All my fic is here: http://www.members.tripod.com/sunnybjitterbug/ although I haven't posted this one yet, I will tommorrow.
author's note. It's from Buffy's POV, "he" is Riley, and "you" is Angel, and "they" is the Scooby Gang, just in case it confuses you... cause it never really names anyone...

"She's been like this for days."

"Are you quite serious?"

"Very. I'm worried, Giles."

"Are we all." A pause. "I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do, she'll have to come out of this on her own."

Their conversation floats over to me. Background noise in an otherwise silent world. They think I can't hear. But I've got Slayer hearing, and with it I can hear the bugs crawling, ash falling, and the whispers of death. Morbid, I know. That's what I've become, knowing you're gone.

He's worried, always worried. They're all worried, of course, but he's worried more. Worried about me, about us, about the world. You know, petty things like that. But does he know. Does he know why I weep? Does he know why I won't speak? Can any of them know? Can they truly know and understand this thing? Only you could, only you will.

"She's staring at something... There! Her eyes moved again!"

They turn, their gazes falling on a white wall. They don't see. They never have, they never will.

Frustrated, sad, "There's got to be something we can do." I'm sorry Xander, but this thing will never fade, never die. No matter what you say, no matter what you do, it will never go away. I'll learn to hide it. To pick up these heavy limbs and begin the slow, tedious, not to mention painful, process of moving on. But it will never go away. Not completely. Just like you.

I can feel you. Close by. Or is it my imagination? My subconscious desperately needing the security and love of your presence and creating it for a mind that's no longer functioning correctly.

Am I crazy? Has your death finally cracked my defense? My defense against all the darkness and hate, against the uncontrollable rage that overtook Faith and made her into my enemy? Or were you my defense? And now that you're gone, the demons, my demons, are rushing in. Why is it that all I can see is death? Crimson blood, tears of grief, and an Angel of Death hovering over me. Are you waiting for something? Some signal? Some sign that it's time to swoop in and take me to oblivion? Or have I finally reached the edge of a precipice, and fallen into insanity?

They can't take it anymore. Their calls have stopped, their pleading, their persuasion. Their presence is gone. They can't take my vacant stare, and steady tears.

I'm still crying. How can that be? By now the tears should have stopped. Lord knows I've cried enough for you. I should have run out by now. But they keep coming. The sobs have ended, but the tears still fall.

It feels like an eternity. An eternity of sitting here, knowing the world is darker because you're gone. They've all left, even him, leaving me alone. Just like before.

Alone. Always Alone.

Was I destined to die alone?

They've moved outside the door, acting like they were trying to keep their conversation private when really they're trying to run from me.

Is this how it should be? Are we supposed to be separated by death? Are my cheeks going to stay wet with tears of grief until the day I die? Will I die of a broken heart, or will it just make it easier for a lucky demon?

It's not fair. It's never fair. Being called to save the world at fifteen wasn't fair. Falling in love with my greatest enemy isn't fair. Dying at sixteen isn't fair. Having my lover turn against me after a night of perfection isn't fair. Sending my lover to hell right after he returned to me isn't fair. Saving your God forsaken life over and over again and still having to watch you leave me isn't fair. Feeling you die without ever saying good bye isn't fair. Never fair.

We deserved a happy ending, you and I. We deserved a fluff, beautiful ending to make up for the pain and hatred that was most of our relationship. But you're gone and now any hope I ever harbored has turned to dust, just like you did.

Was it your time? Was it your destiny to die that night? Was it planned for you to love me? To leave me? To die without me? To leave with the memory of my last words to you said out of anger and pain?

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The tears are falling harder now, the sobs coming quicker, my breath hitching. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you, for the nightmares you've had. I'm sorry for not loving you enough to make sure you knew I still cared. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more than one night of perfect happiness. I'm sorry for your tears. I'm sorry for the pain, the anger, the hatred, the rage. I'm sorry you had to die without ever being able to say good bye.

I tried that once, to say good bye, to leave you behind, to put you in the past, to place you on a dirty marble floor and walk away, just like the ring you gave me. It didn't work. It never does. They took my ring, my good bye, and shoved you back in my life.

Are you happy now? Are you sad? Angry? Where are you? Heaven? Hell? Wondering the Ghost Roads? Are you waiting for me? Are you watching me? Is it you there, standing in front of me, staring, shouting, urging me.

"Fight." You say. You keep on saying that, but what does it mean? How can I understand? Tell me! I scream it back, desperate to comprehend a ghosts words to me.

The door bursts open, they stare at me in surprise. But you've disappeared upon their arrival, and I'm left with nothing but the stares of friends who are now more like strangers.

I keep pushing them away. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I feel like I'm going to wither up and die. I don't want them to see that, see the weakness in me. But you want me to fight.

Fight against my death? Against this suffocating pain? What is it?

I stare at them, watching the worry and fear scatter across their faces.

"You made him go away." I cry, I shout, I'm fighting against invisible foes, against death itself. "They made him go away!"

They're holding me down. Restraining me against my demons. I'm starting to wonder if maybe I really have gone insane. Was it too much? Was the weight of being the Slayer and you're lover too much for one girl to bear?

"Fight." You say. I freeze, seeing your crimson tears. Tears of sadness. I recognize those tears, that look on your face, but for all my life I can't place where I've seen it. "Fight for me."

I have nothing left to give. Nothing but my pain. So I will. I'll fight with that. It's probably not healthy, probably not right or even safe. But I'm beyond caring. I'll fight with everything I have left. For you.

I get up, shoving off their restraining arms and worried gazes. I approach the window, facing dawn as it peaks over a bleak horizon. I'll fight this pain, this anger. I'll fight until I die. But I'll never have a happy ending.

And I'll remember you. I'll carry you to my grave, I'll let you watch over me, just beyond my reach. I'll move on in darkness and in light, and you'll never leave me.

I'll fight, I'll scream, I'll laugh, and I'll cry. I'm move on, and even beyond that. But you'll never go away.

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