Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – Buffy and the crew belong to Joss, the speech belongs to Abe Lincoln, and the song at the end belongs to Sarah McLachlan

Rating: PG-13, I suppose, for a little bad language and adult themes.

Dedication: To Cassie, and to Portland Mom – you both know why.

Synopsis: A/U, Buffy's POV (mostly) – takes place after Innocence but before Becoming Pt. 2 – Buffy develops a terminal illness.

"We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.--Abraham Lincoln"

The Diary of Buffy Summers

02/28/98

I'm seventeen years old. I'll never see eighteen. I'll never know so many things – and the only love I've ever known is gone. The doctor says what I've got is so rare, there's no name for it. I suggested Buffyitis, but I doubt that will make it into the medical textbooks. I'm dealing, I guess, and my friends are too – but they won't look me in the eyes any more – like what I've got might jump over to them, somehow. Giles has buried himself in ancient texts, convinced it's a vampire curse – or something that he can fix. Bless him for trying. Willow – she doesn't really talk to me anymore. She pretends to, but our conversations have no context – they're just talk. And Xander – poor Xander – he just copes the only way he knows how, with silly jokes. I think deep down he still thinks he can save me, that his love (yes, Xander, I know you love me – I've always known) can defer the inevitable. And me? I'll fight this for all I'm worth, but my chances aren't so good.

03/15/98

Back home from the hospital. Things are getting worse faster than anyone anticipated. I'm stuck in this damn chair now, too weak to even get up. I can't stand the pain, and I hate taking the painkillers – they make me feel terrible. I wish I had the courage to end this myself, but I can't help but feel the forces of good – if that's truly who I'm working for – might frown on that. Cordelia came by yesterday – that's a laugh, huh? We talked about some silly things for a while, and then she hugged me and said "Goodbye, Buffy." The poor girl's going to have a tough time dealing with this, I think. I'm glad she'll have the rest of the gang to talk to, and I hope that they're there for each other. I hope the new slayer becomes their friend – I don't know what I ever would have done without them.

03/25/98

Writing from the hospital bed – the doctors figure there could be as little as a couple of days left. God, I hate hospitals. I finally managed to shoo everyone off long enough that I could add this, which will probably be my final entry. I hope someone reads this someday. Mom? Please be happy. That's all I wish for you. Call Dad, maybe you two can still make it work. Giles? I couldn't have asked for a better watcher – you've truly been a father to me. Willow? You're my best friend, and I know one day Xander will see you the way you want him to. Xander? I love you too. I know you'll have a great life, and I just hope you can share it with Willow – she loves you. Thank you all. You're all my friends, you're all my family, and I could never have made it this far without you. Please don't grieve for me – at least, not for too long. This is the sitch, and there's nothing any of us can do about it. Please welcome the new slayer with open arms, and treat her as you've always treated me.

And Angel? I'm so sorry. The regret that I'll take to the grave with me is that by doing what I thought was right, I took your soul from you. Thank you for the wonderful time we had together, and I know someday your soul will find its way back to you. Goodbye, my Angel.

As she completed her last diary entry, Buffy's hands began to tremble. The diary fell from her hand, landing open on the bed next to her. She slipped into unconsciousness, a single tear rolling down her cheek. The door to her room opened quietly, and Angelus crept in to stand next to her bed.

"So, this is how the Slayer goes? Well, this is no fun at all – no sport. Wait, what's this?"

Angelus picked up Buffy's diary, and read the entire story of her illness. As he finished the last sentence, he doubled over in pain. He stood up again – but not as Angelus. For there was a part of the curse that Jenny had never mentioned – one moment of true happiness would take Angel's soul – but a moment of true sorrow, which Angelus had felt reading Buffy's last words, would return it to him.

Angel reached out, caressed Buffy's cheek and stroked her blonde hair, now hanging limply against her skull. "No Buffy, no. You can't go, " he pleaded with her. "I've missed so much time – I Love You. It's not time, it's not fair – I love you."

Angel's words had barely been spoken when the corner of Buffy's mouth turned up in a smile. Simultaneously, her heart monitors went flatline, their alarms ringing. Angel laid his head down next to hers. The rest of Buffy's friends and family ran into the room, and almost attacked Angel before they noticed his body shaking with sobs. They gathered around each other, Buffy's whole family, and wished the greatest person they had ever known farewell.

"I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories"