Obviously, I don't really know who's going to die or what not, so I'm making
it up. I was just bored, and I wrote these short "POV" pieces about how I
imagine the aftermath of the last battle with the First might end up. And
if you're going to review just to say something like "how culd u kill (blah)???"
then just forget it, okay? If you're going to do that, at LEAST put some
constructive criticism or something in there...
Buffy
I knew many would die. I knew it, and I prepared myself for it. Hell, I'd been preparing for the death of everyone I loved since Glory. It was then that I realized that there was no way we'd ever all make it. Some of us, maybe all of us, would die. And it would be much too early for any of us. But, even with all the preparing, it hit me too hard. It took until after the battle, until I knew everything was okay, that I could go back home and rest. For a very, very long time.
But it turns out everything wasn't okay. There were so many dead. People I felt like I'd known forever, people I'd just met a few months earlier, people I never even knew. All but four of the Potentials are dead. Three went home, Rona stayed here. We don't know why, we haven't asked. I don't exactly care. I don't notice anybody anymore. Everyone lives here now. Which doesn't turn out to be that many people. But they seem to need each other, in a way I can't understand anymore. I used to need them, but now I just stay away. I'm not even sure if they notice, lost in their pain that will never go away.
It's been a week, since the battle. I think barely anyone has left the house since, save for Faith. She's gone all day, then comes back only to sleep. Nobody knows what she does, maybe even she doesn't. We've all changed too much. Luckily people haven't been eating much, because nobody's been grocery shopping. Not that we have much money, since no one has been working. I go back to work in a few days, and Dawn's going to have to go back to school.
Fred lives here now, too. I don't understand why she didn't go back to Los Angeles with the others, but I don't care. Because I don't see why anything really matters anymore. I only ever see her writing things down in a notebook, nose in a book, or talking quietly with Willow, Anya, or Dawn.
Willow looks horrible now. She barely talks, and when she does, it's only a hushed whisper. Anya always talks, but sometimes doesn't make sense. And I barely ever see Dawn, she's always in Willow's room, laying there. They all sleep, nearly live, in Willow's room. Dawn was the first to move there, laying in her spot on the floor. Rona and Anya sleep on the floor in there, too, and Fred and Willow sleep on her bed. They feel safer as a group. But I couldn't join in if I tried. I love my own room, being quiet and alone. Faith moved from the couch to Dawn's empty room.
Its relieving to have a small house again. There are still blankets and pillows piled in every room of the house, and empty cereal and TV dinner boxes piled by the trash can, which nobody has bothered to take out. They're the last signs of all the girls that once populated the house, besides the weapons and training tools still downstairs, where no one has gone since the fight. I'll have to go down and clean up before I have to go to work.
I got a new job, but this time it's being a janitor at Sunnydale Elementary. It was the only job around, I have to start somewhere. There's still bills to pay, and nobody else seems fit for work. I'm the slayer, I have to be.
Stuff's happened, and I understand the need to grieve. But I think I'm the only one that realizes that life still has to go on. They have to learn that, in order to live, sometimes you have to be cold. And I turned cold a long time ago.
Buffy
I knew many would die. I knew it, and I prepared myself for it. Hell, I'd been preparing for the death of everyone I loved since Glory. It was then that I realized that there was no way we'd ever all make it. Some of us, maybe all of us, would die. And it would be much too early for any of us. But, even with all the preparing, it hit me too hard. It took until after the battle, until I knew everything was okay, that I could go back home and rest. For a very, very long time.
But it turns out everything wasn't okay. There were so many dead. People I felt like I'd known forever, people I'd just met a few months earlier, people I never even knew. All but four of the Potentials are dead. Three went home, Rona stayed here. We don't know why, we haven't asked. I don't exactly care. I don't notice anybody anymore. Everyone lives here now. Which doesn't turn out to be that many people. But they seem to need each other, in a way I can't understand anymore. I used to need them, but now I just stay away. I'm not even sure if they notice, lost in their pain that will never go away.
It's been a week, since the battle. I think barely anyone has left the house since, save for Faith. She's gone all day, then comes back only to sleep. Nobody knows what she does, maybe even she doesn't. We've all changed too much. Luckily people haven't been eating much, because nobody's been grocery shopping. Not that we have much money, since no one has been working. I go back to work in a few days, and Dawn's going to have to go back to school.
Fred lives here now, too. I don't understand why she didn't go back to Los Angeles with the others, but I don't care. Because I don't see why anything really matters anymore. I only ever see her writing things down in a notebook, nose in a book, or talking quietly with Willow, Anya, or Dawn.
Willow looks horrible now. She barely talks, and when she does, it's only a hushed whisper. Anya always talks, but sometimes doesn't make sense. And I barely ever see Dawn, she's always in Willow's room, laying there. They all sleep, nearly live, in Willow's room. Dawn was the first to move there, laying in her spot on the floor. Rona and Anya sleep on the floor in there, too, and Fred and Willow sleep on her bed. They feel safer as a group. But I couldn't join in if I tried. I love my own room, being quiet and alone. Faith moved from the couch to Dawn's empty room.
Its relieving to have a small house again. There are still blankets and pillows piled in every room of the house, and empty cereal and TV dinner boxes piled by the trash can, which nobody has bothered to take out. They're the last signs of all the girls that once populated the house, besides the weapons and training tools still downstairs, where no one has gone since the fight. I'll have to go down and clean up before I have to go to work.
I got a new job, but this time it's being a janitor at Sunnydale Elementary. It was the only job around, I have to start somewhere. There's still bills to pay, and nobody else seems fit for work. I'm the slayer, I have to be.
Stuff's happened, and I understand the need to grieve. But I think I'm the only one that realizes that life still has to go on. They have to learn that, in order to live, sometimes you have to be cold. And I turned cold a long time ago.