By fracturedheart
disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, and Joss Whedon. None belongs to me.
summary: Buffy's free.
So this is it. This is dying. What death is made out of and what it will always be, forever and ever.
It's kind of like when your whole life flashes before you in an instant and you just know. You just know because it's what you've always wanted to know, and now you do. These thoughts swirl and twist and writhe in your head and you experience some sort of fulfillment and it feels so right. Everything that's happened – it's all left you and all that is left is little pieces, shattered remains of a past once lived. But there is no pain. Strange numbness that feels kind of like being reborn, living all over again without the clumsiness but with grace.
I'll be honest. Death is what I've always wanted in the first place. I had seen too much when I was the Slayer. My friends always thought that I was on top of everything, that I had everything under control. They thought they could find some sort of comfort in me, since I was the Slayer, the good Slayer, that I had everything in my grasp and that I was some sort of superhero.
I'm not a superhero. My life isn't a fairytale. There is no happy ending. It's all some jumbled up mystery that we call home, that we feel safe in because it's our only chance. Our only chance to be living and to exist. Well now that it's almost over I can finally relax and let go of the Slayer and the girl and my friends and my life. Because it's finally here. My freedom. My gift. My chance.
So now I'm lying here just waiting for death's velvet hand to lay its gentle fingers over my mouth and silence me so I can be saved. I'm dying and I'm smiling and I'm finally, truly, free.