Begin
by immutable
Disclaimer: "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer" belongs to those other than me.
Takes place towards the end of "The Gift."
- - -
Her skin is alive with energy; it presses against her body and threatens to pull her apart, to rip her and to devour. It feels like eternity, like she has been here forever, and yet she knows it was only seconds ago that she jumped, that she turned from her sister, from Dawnie, and leapt. Leapt, and it caught her. Enveloped her in an ocean of color and light and life.
And, finally, pain. She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Instead there is a white noise, all-consuming, and she wonders how long it will take, dying. She's done it before, but she doesn't remember much, and this will be different, anyway. Nothing so simple as water. It hurts more, too, as the energy tears at her flesh, her mind. This is death, and she remembers Spike saying that she dances with death, and she thinks that he was wrong. There is no dance, no grace, no rhythm, here. There is nothing seductive or hypnotic about this at all.
Her thoughts are dissolving, disconnected; she thinks she is unraveling. Memories come unwanted - Willow on the first day of school, Mom in her new dress, Xander and Spike and Angel and Giles and Riley and Dawn . . . images colliding and overwriting, blurring and fading as soon as they become bright. This is who she is, and it's disappearing. The air is full of her death; it surrounds her and she watches it without regret.
She hasn't failed them. This is her gift. Death. She only hopes they understand.
And then there is whiteness, and then nothing at all.
- - -
The End.
by immutable
Disclaimer: "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer" belongs to those other than me.
Takes place towards the end of "The Gift."
- - -
Her skin is alive with energy; it presses against her body and threatens to pull her apart, to rip her and to devour. It feels like eternity, like she has been here forever, and yet she knows it was only seconds ago that she jumped, that she turned from her sister, from Dawnie, and leapt. Leapt, and it caught her. Enveloped her in an ocean of color and light and life.
And, finally, pain. She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Instead there is a white noise, all-consuming, and she wonders how long it will take, dying. She's done it before, but she doesn't remember much, and this will be different, anyway. Nothing so simple as water. It hurts more, too, as the energy tears at her flesh, her mind. This is death, and she remembers Spike saying that she dances with death, and she thinks that he was wrong. There is no dance, no grace, no rhythm, here. There is nothing seductive or hypnotic about this at all.
Her thoughts are dissolving, disconnected; she thinks she is unraveling. Memories come unwanted - Willow on the first day of school, Mom in her new dress, Xander and Spike and Angel and Giles and Riley and Dawn . . . images colliding and overwriting, blurring and fading as soon as they become bright. This is who she is, and it's disappearing. The air is full of her death; it surrounds her and she watches it without regret.
She hasn't failed them. This is her gift. Death. She only hopes they understand.
And then there is whiteness, and then nothing at all.
- - -
The End.