~Buffy: Who You Really Are~



I felt like I was walking in slow motion when I entered Giles's apartment
that afternoon. Angel had already arrived, getting there quicker through the
tunnels. And when I walked in the door, I saw everyone's eyes land on me.

And I was the Slayer.

I could sense it in there stares as much as I felt it in myself. That's what
they were thinking; the Slayer, the savior, the Chosen One. I guess after
all of this, being Chosen isn't as bad as I've made it out to be.

Because there have been moments... Moments where I've felt that that's all I
was. Moments where I become nothing but the Slayer, where I figure out who I
really am, deep inside where everything is hidden. Moments that I always
forget until another hits me. They're deeply affecting, personal. They
touch my heart in a way that hardly anything does.

And this was one of those moments. I saw it in each of their faces.

The slow-motion feeling faded and I smiled, dropping my purse on the couch.
I crossed my arms over my breasts and raised my eyebrows, felt the small grin
play with my mouth.

"Hey guys. What's up?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~Giles: Everything You Fear~


I recovered from the moment fairly quickly; shut my gaping mouth and returned
Buffy's smile. In truth, I had been quite moved when she walked in the door.
She had been moving with a quiet, certain grace-- she was sure of herself
and calm and absolutely lovely. There have only been a few times in my
relationship with Buffy that I've seen her move with such purpose, such
definition, and it never ceased to amaze me.

I nodded at her. "We're discussing Willow's spell," I explained.
"Apparently, there are a few side effects that you'll perhaps need to know."

"Like?"

I looked at Willow, who turned to Buffy. "Nothing really big, I don't think.
All of my research indicates that you might feel... Different, but it won't
be anything harmful. It'll happen to all of us." She gestured around the
room.

Buffy paused for a moment. "Different how?"

"Weightlessness, essentially. We won't be filling you with our spirits, but
we will be enjoining the strength of our souls... Around you, basically, to
protect you. I've read that it makes the fighter feel very light, feather
light," Willow smiled. Her eyes twinkled and for a moment I saw her as I had
when she was in high school-- young and playful and innocent. "The
all-purpose diet."

"Can I fight too then?" Cordelia spoke up, laughter in her voice. "I've been
trying to lose--"

"If you finish that sentence with any number of pounds, I'll kick you,"
Xander warned with a small smile. "I really will. You're perfect."

"As long as you realize it," she responded loftily, amused.

And then I was hit with a wave of fear so strong that I clutched the chair I
was standing beside for support. I realized in that second, looking at all
of the faces in the world that meant something dear to me, that I could lose
all of them. Even losing one of them would be like dying inside.

And I think I'm still a bit too young for that.

Yes, I think we all are.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~Willow: Stepping Inside The Magic~


You have to wonder what it's all about. Magic and science, life and death,
passion and tenderness. Battles like these often bring about these
questions. Questions that could go on forever. Questions that, even nearing
thirty as I am, I have no idea how to answer.

I guess I keep looking to the others for answers.

Which I need to stop doing, I know. If there was one thing that my mother
taught me it was to rely upon myself because I would be all I had when it
came right down to the center of things. And I believe that, I do.
Somewhere deep inside me...

The problem is, I've never had to live it. I've always had such a strong
support system of people who loved me, people who I've loved and people who
I've been in love with, that the alone aspect hasn't really made any sort of
sense. Even when I was blindly learning my way through magic and getting
knocked unconscious nearly every day because of the power of it, it didn't
make sense. Even now, as danger looms over our heads for the thousandth
time, it doesn't make any sense.

Because, they're not gone yet. Alone hasn't arrived. They're a part of me.

Will I be alone someday? Maybe. Just another question I can't answer.

There's always been a sort of magic that surrounded the seven of us. A
chemistry that worked almost too well, that kept us alive time and again,
that let the laughter keep us strong, that let the tears bind us closer.

And I used that magic, that intimacy, in each and every one of my spells.
Because it was what I drew my own strength from.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling each of my friends' unique energies
fill the room.

Tonight, I would step inside that magic. And it would work.

It had to.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~Xander: Prayers Of A Clown~


I watched Willow sigh and wondered what she was thinking. There were tight,
concentrated lines around her mouth and her eyes were closed. Was she
thinking that it would all work out for the best? Was she thinking that we
were all going to die by the time the sun came up?

I wanted the be inside her thoughts again, like I had before when we shared
the dream. I wanted that same level of comfort and peace that being her
friend always gave me. The level of comfort and peace that I couldn't seem
to achieve at the moment.

Because I was afraid.

I had tried to be strong. For Cordelia, for Willow, for Buffy. Strong for
everyone who had always been strong for me. But my courage seemed to be
crumbling, little by little as the minutes passed. Willow's spell sounded
hard and I'd be the first to admit that I haven't had very good luck with
magick. Besides, as I'm sure I'm not the only one who knows, little by
little can be enough.

We had to get through it, of course. Because otherwise... Otherwise what?
We'd be breaking the tradition?

I caught myself before I smiled, realizing immediately that this was nothing
to smile at. Death was nothing to smile at. It took me a long time to
realize that jokes don't solve everything, but I finally had and I wasn't
going to try. Not even with myself.

I half-listened to Giles as he talked about the coming fight, about where we
would each be situated and how we were supposed to concentrate and how Buffy
would be fighting and that we should all bring weapons even though we
wouldn't be fighting and what weapons to bring and it all sank in, it did.
But I didn't want it to. I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to be
making love to Cordelia, alone with her away from here, her thighs wrapped
around my hips, her breasts slick with saliva and sweat.

Or laughing with Willow and Buffy. Hanging out with them, comfortable, maybe
watching a movie that they'd be complaining about the entire way through but
that they secretly liked. Flirting with them like I always have, hearing
them giggle like nothing was wrong, like we were sixteen again.

Hell, even Giles's lectures and Oz's silences and arguing with Angel sounded
good, great, my idea of a perfect time.

Well, the Cordelia thing was my favorite but we all have to make compromises.

But I couldn't be doing any of those things. I was doing this. I had to do
this. And I would never back away from something if it would help my
friends.

We all needed help at that moment.

So, still keeping one ear on the conversation around me, I began my own. In
my head. With God.

Because even if prayer didn't help us much, I knew it couldn't hurt.