A/N: I got this great idea by basing oneshots off The Exies' lyrics. I was listening to "Ugly" when I realized how much many of their texts describe Angel and Buffy's relationship. This, based upon the song "These are the days" is part one of my Sonnet Universe (all The Exies song-based). It'll continue vaguely into a part two in another fanfic since they aren't tied together.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, Angel or any of the characters. I don't own "These are the days" either, that's The Exies. I do, however, own the word 'slayerelles' and the storyline.
It's amazing how one can break prophecies, destinies and evil master-plans just by the will to survive. Amazing how one then can fade away by the use of a spell. But, I guess I had it coming. Magic has saved me a lot of times and cursed me more than a few. I accept it – death. After all, I've done my deal and paid my debt to the world. Yeah, people call it unfair. They'll say I should have lived longer, but they don't realize how blessed I am; the first Slayer making it to thirty. Dying by the hands of a spell by thirty-one, though.
My destiny true (because these past days, I have been studying what I was supposed to do, during my years as the Chosen One – or Two), I have already died by one vampire, a foolish mistake that rendered me somewhat careless, and I've died by a God (or, technically, I defeated the God, and then sacrificed myself to save a being). I have earned my death. I'm not suicidal or anything, just glad it's over. That I can rest with the fact that I can say: I saved the world. I improved it (and stop there, risking sounding too egocentric). I have been crucial to the world today.
My close friends have drifted apart. I have done things regretfully. Like the fact that my friends have had to see people dead because of me, people they knew. People I have outlived; people who should've lived 'till they were at least eighty, surrounded by grandchildren.
I also know my legacy will be passed on. New Slayers, new Summers in the bloodline. My best friend was a better mom to her then I ever were. She'll take care of her, just like she took care of my little sister. Slayers are really lousy moms, I realize (though I see progress, and successes in the past). Witches can handle kids.
I lay down in this bed, comfortable and awaiting my death, as I listen to the regrets that fill my head. I have to listen to be at peace. My conscience hasn't been lost yet, though some might call me estranged and cold. I have lived through a lot (and died though a lot, too).
I regret that I don't speak to him anymore. I know he's out there; perhaps behind the door, perhaps miles away. It kills him that I'm dying but we're both too damn stubborn to make amends. I'd take his for an insult, anyway and I surely don't want his last memory of me to be one of pity. Besides, even after the events of closing the first hellmouth, we'd been distant, not really talking about the things that mattered, and whenever the conversations neared the subject too much and the subtext got too personal, we'd use words like the weather to distance ourselves. We'd never be the same, not after my pregnancy, not after my relationship, not after he left. So many things had separated us from who we were once. Words, they had teared us apart, useless sentences and strictly business phone calls. Finally the torment of both had stopped.
The more I talk, the less I say
when the words get in the way
I admit, it was hard and to begin with, it pained me to even look at the phone. Then it absorbed into rage that he didn't call, that he'd made us like this. And then... loneliness replaced ever feeling I had. It was difficult, but I survived it. Though I never let anyone in again.
Loneliness is so hard,
loneliness is so hard
Sure, it would have been easier if I didn't have an academy of young untrained Slayers – I would have left for his place, to talk things through. If it would have helped? I don't know. I often wondered if it was the thrill. After all, I was almost ordinary now (yeah, a legend amongst demons and slayers, but still – there were hundreds like me), not with the same intriguing spark. Maybe he lost interest – though a voice in my head always said that wasn't it. I mean, he'd gotten a taste of his path of redemption, his destiny. I wouldn't ruin that. I was busy, too. Living under circumstances such as a house full of young female teenagers with hormones raging? Not a pretty sight, when Slayer powers were involved. The girls were flippant and still are, last I heard from one of the oldest, who was sixteen when I defeated the First Evil (or, we did – yay, team!). I really never got the nerve or the chance to contact him, not even when he got a chance of humanity again. I rejected him, saying too much water had run under the bridge since our passionate days. Truth was – and is – I regret it as much as he loathes me for it.
Ordinary I confess,
living under house arrest
So you see why some part of me believes I deserve this. The great Slayer, defeated by magic. In truth, I was defeated by love. Not the cuddling, sweet, heartbreaking one. No, the aftershocks, the in-between, the eternal doubt. The lack thereof. I never allowed myself to such thing. I was either too young, too busy or too old. God, they call my head mistress these days. So perhaps...
Maybe I belong here,
maybe I belong
At last, I surrender to truth and realization. Willow would probably say there's some god for that. Well, I've encountered one too many gods in my time. Though I've spent half of my life in denial, in my last days, I can't keep it going for longer. The relief of realization is my heart's final wish. It's sort of beautiful, how even if they don't ask, I admit to myself that I kept myself guarded and denied for so long. It's too cliché to say my view of the world is changed, but it's better this way. My heart isn't as hurt as it was before. It still longs for his touch.
Suddenly, there's beauty in
the way my heart is caving in
I bear many scars, but I have only allowed few but him to see the dept of the scars you couldn't see. And it was years ago. I wonder if he took that part with him when he left. My ability to share mental scars. Sure, I've showed my physical scars (though never proudly exposed one on my neck) for fun to the girls, comparing battle scars. God, how morbid. No, not even my Watcher had a grip on how deep it cuts to do this for so long – everyone expecting you to last or fall. I do neither, always breaking the rules. Huh, I can't even deny that. Giles would scold me for that.
And every scar reminds me how
I can't deny
The healer, who is doing everything she can (though we all know how this is ending – I even think there's a prophecy about that!), has covered my skin in runes, cyrillic letters and latin words. It would be easier to convince them to let me go if I were older. For them, thirty is both of age and far too young. Grandmothers die, people accept that. Most of them compare me to an aunt although I know that I am ancient to them – at least though knowledge and experience, although they'll never say that in court.
The healer has asked me if she should put me to sleep so in these last days, I'll merely be asleep. But I refused, not to be heroic or to maintain my appearance but because of something he said once. After all, forever only lasts 'till my last breath. I wanna remember that. Unlike everything he took from me.
These are the days that last forever
a time in my life I won't surrender
for better or worse, these are the days
Yeah, perhaps I've gone soft but I have never showed it. Even his name and the way he says mine speaks volumes. I can't even say the lie that he is just someone I once released and sent to hell. I don't know if we suffer because of each other or we suffer because of the way, we treat each other. I can do nothing to change that now, nothing to make him realize I care. He has suffered because he loved me and I have too. In a period of time, I suffered because his alter ego had loved me. Angelus made my life hell because Angel loved me. I wonder if my love ever cost him anything but pain.
In my life, I've loved no other
we all have pain, we all have suffered
for better or worse, these are the days
I will remember
When I started out as a Slayer, I was told that vampires were to be staked and demons to be slayed. Evil had many faces but they were all something I should kill. I met Angel and my world – my beliefs stumbled. Everything my Watchers had told me, it cracked. Now I know so much more, but parts of me wish that my beliefs never tore apart. It would have been easier if I had never met him, after all. The more I learned about the debts of evil, the less I seemed to know for certain – the more I doubted myself. However, you can't let go of memories or knowledge like that. Life is like that, gaining but taking something at the same time. Knowledge costs and so does experience. Hell, I can't even count the things I've had to learn thanks to injuries, pain and defeat. Even winning teaches you something.
There's only so much knowledge of life and experience that a life can hold. Constantly alerted, never allowing mistakes to happen and people to get hurt – champions, fighters for good and innocents. My heart still aches for the people we've lost along the way. Knowing that we will lose people in the future. For some reason, it's like my heart both breaks and doesn't care anymore.
The more I learn, the less I know
the final act of letting go
of everything that life takes
the reason why my heart breaks
I remember his touch and how I shuddered under it, forgetting about the world around us. How he gave me everything life took from me, even if it was only temporary. I have suffered for those touches and for appreciating them but taking them for granted. We were never the same after Angelus entered the world. I blame myself that he has to suffer for something I caused. Angel was nothing like Angelus and yet I loved them both. I never revealed that to Giles, Willow or Xander. They are all spread like dust in the wind though I hear that they are doing everything to come to my bed. Before I die. They won't acknowledge that. I wish I didn't inflict such pain in their eyes, but I know it's a relief to see me dead. They won't have to worry about me anymore. I don't know if their grief will manage to pass and see the relief. It will take them time and maybe lifetimes, but they will realize (perhaps when they are in their own dead-beds, hopefully dying of old age). Still I am disappointed in myself. Their last memory of me should be alive and kickin'.
My behavior changed after a few years of organizing dorm rooms with slayerelles. That's what I call them, and Willow is fond of the term herself. It reminds everyone that the only Slayer alone is her who stood alone. Me. Surrounded by them, their youth and giggles, I have never missed him – and the our days of young and foolish passion – more. Willow and Dawn and Xander and Giles... God, we were a closed community. Still are. Welcoming anyone but the ones we know. But ourselves.
A tear sliding down my face is a reminder of my mortality – the fact I'm still alive, but not kicking. I appreciate these moments but for once, I know what will come next – in the afterlife. They don't and they will mourn me more than I'll want them to. It's a comforting thought. Reality always was my greatest enemy.
Suddenly there's comfort in
the way the world comes crashing in
And every tear reminds me I'm alive
tonight
Not sounding morbid, I wonder what my head stone will say (this time, a voice in my head says). I'll probably be buried on-grounds or in a public yet private cemetery. Giles will probably insist on rising a monument to my memory. Even if he does – and I hope not – it won't be enough. The future slayerelles will admire it, listen to the told stories of my heroic battles with disbelief but I won't be a part of them anymore. I haven't been for years. I have distance myself since I gave birth, leaving my duties to older slayerelles, and the formal work and chief command on missions, I took. I have seen the looks, I got. Most were astounded by my coldness. Not even Willow tries to defend my prior warm heart and compassion. But he will. He'll never stop insisting upon my open and big heart, able to love even a creature of the darkest night.
I don't know when or why I lost my sense of expressing emotions. I guess I realized they didn't need me anymore, that one of the older girls, Kate or Aria, would easily fill the role of superior guardian and protector. They had both basic and impressive fighting skills, not unlike the one I possessed myself at their age.
These are the days that last forever
A time in my life I won't surrender
For better or worse, these are the days
In my life I've loved no other
We all have pain, we all have suffered
For better or worse, these are the days
I will remember
I hate that I have to leave this world without making up with him. I never got the chance. Did he outshine me or did I outshine him? Just like a competition, we never spoke. We both made it clear that times had passed. Last time I looked him in the eyes, I saw hurt and anger. No rage, though, not towards me, anyway. I wish I'd die with a more redeeming picture of him in my memory. I guess it's true when they saw that you can't die without regrets. At least not when you're a Slayer. The Chosen One. Not when the man you love is a vicious creature.
Do I have to hate to love? Do I have to feel pain to be human? I'll never be quite human, I'll never have the perfect life with the white picket fence house. Although. I did survive until this spell, I did make it to thirty. I did pass my bloodline on. I did stop the world from ending. I did manage to have Dawn's life turn out okay. But then I can say how I did die – twice. I did lose some of my humanity in the fight. I still care but it's easier not to. Perhaps that's why Slayers are only supposed to last a few years. The demon essence is lying in my chest, wanting release. Now divided in hundreds of girls, it's weak but still as strong as ever in my body. It is tempting to unleash it, but with its powers, I'd hurt everyone I know. It's better to die than risk that. I can control the essence, I can adjust its affect on me (its ability to heal me quickly and risky rather than slowly and safely). Even Angel saw its gleam in my eyes. Being alone with the essence is like being locked up in a cage with a wounded beast. If you heal yourself too much, the beast will recover and attack.
The more I talk, the less I say
When the words get in the way
Loneliness is so hard
Loneliness is so hard
Ordinary I confess
Living under house arrest
Maybe I belong here
Maybe I belong
He never underestimated me (which was why Angelus reigned for so long). It's his mark I choose to bear, even when hate consumes my being and I temporarily allow the beast control. It's his face I focus on, in these last days of my life. I have seen many people go in and out of my life but his exit truly hurt me. It scarred my soul and my body remembers his. His scent, his appearance, his touch. I have not allowed myself to feel this until now. And it's too late.
I hope that someone will inform him quietly. Willow, if she takes her time. Even though he might already know before she tells him. I can feel his body and I'm sure he, with his heightened vampire senses – will know that my last breath is over and his mate is dead. Even Angelus will know, deep behind the walls he's chained to in Angel's mind. For him, his masterpiece is dead.
These are the days that last forever
A time in my life I won't surrender
For better or worse, these are the days
In my life I've loved no other
We all have pain, we all have suffered
For better or worse, these are the days
I will remember
I will remember
I will remember
He'll never know that I do remember. Neither of them will.
Reviews and questions are greatly appreciated! Should I continue this universe? Explore its tastefulness?