Chapter 7
Epilogue
He was pining for her, she with the golden hair and the beautiful
face. Alone now, in his room, he clutched a small black and white
photograph of her. A silent tear meandered down his cheek. He never let anyone
see him like this. He still loved her, the pain he felt gnawed away at
his insides. Lorek, in Buffy's form, had almost killed him, because his
heart would not let him fight with anything that reminded him of her.
He heard Cordelia shut the heavy hotel door on her way out, and heard
both Wesley and Cordelia's footsteps heading down the street. The room
was cold and dark, reflecting a part of him buried deep inside. A part
that had to stay buried, no matter what the cost. That was why he
couldn't be with her, couldn't allow himself that blissful happiness. They had
to stay apart. He couldn't risk letting her get hurt again. He didn't
want to risk her getting hurt again.
He placed the photo on the small bedside cabinet and turned away from
it. He knew he needed sleep, he was weak, needed rest. But he knew that
sleep would not come easily to him, would never soothe his tortured
soul. He snuggled down into the covers, realising that he could not get
warm. It did not matter. Vampires were cold, dead creatures. He needed
little comfort to rest. As sleep finally came to him, he thought of Buffy
again, allowed her form to encroach on his dreams, and allowed his
dreams to torment him.
The end
Epilogue
He was pining for her, she with the golden hair and the beautiful
face. Alone now, in his room, he clutched a small black and white
photograph of her. A silent tear meandered down his cheek. He never let anyone
see him like this. He still loved her, the pain he felt gnawed away at
his insides. Lorek, in Buffy's form, had almost killed him, because his
heart would not let him fight with anything that reminded him of her.
He heard Cordelia shut the heavy hotel door on her way out, and heard
both Wesley and Cordelia's footsteps heading down the street. The room
was cold and dark, reflecting a part of him buried deep inside. A part
that had to stay buried, no matter what the cost. That was why he
couldn't be with her, couldn't allow himself that blissful happiness. They had
to stay apart. He couldn't risk letting her get hurt again. He didn't
want to risk her getting hurt again.
He placed the photo on the small bedside cabinet and turned away from
it. He knew he needed sleep, he was weak, needed rest. But he knew that
sleep would not come easily to him, would never soothe his tortured
soul. He snuggled down into the covers, realising that he could not get
warm. It did not matter. Vampires were cold, dead creatures. He needed
little comfort to rest. As sleep finally came to him, he thought of Buffy
again, allowed her form to encroach on his dreams, and allowed his
dreams to torment him.
The end