Chapter 11: One Little Indian...
Relief possessed Buffy – enormous, exquisite relief. At last it was over. There was no more fear – no more panic… She was alone on the island… alone with nine dead bodies… but what did that matter? She was alive… she felt so at peace… She was free, so finally free!
She hated that it came to this; that everyone had to die before she could see Angelus' deceit and dispatch him for good. But at least it was done now. Angelus was gone for good and he would never hurt her again…
What to do now? It was Monday, so… wait until Fred Narracott came with the boat. She'd have to speak to the Council about this and she was sure they would have lots of questions, but she would handle it then. But, first things first. She was hungry and tired but hungry first, so she walked into the dining room and grabbed an apple, taking a huge bite.
Oh, how sweet it tasted when you were not scared for your life!
Twirling the burnt stake in her hand absently, she set it down on the table as she saw the four Indians on the centerpiece. "You're behind the times, my dears," she crowed and she grabbed three of them and smashed them at her feet before snatching the fourth as she walked up to her room. "We won, you and me," she said to it. "We won against them all!"
As Buffy climbed the stairs, she thought, that poem… how does it end again? He went and got married and then there were none? Maybe there was such thing as happily ever after.
No, there isn't.
"Huh?" said Buffy.
Come on B, when are you finally going get this?! We're Slayers, girlfriend, the Chosen Two…
So? thought Buffy. Slayers can live happily ever after, right?
The Faith voice added, What? Picket fences? A dog in the front yard? Barbeque with the neighbors? Grow up, B! That ain't going to happen. Your gift is…
Your gift is death… Buffy recognized the voice of the first Slayer.
"No, I didn't kill them! I didn't!" screamed Buffy.
Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later it's going catch you, she heard Spike say. She spun to face him in the hall, but he wasn't there. No, he was gone, wasn't he?
I'm alone on the island, she reasoned. No one else. I'm free! I'm free…
Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day, the Spike in her head said.
Buffy held her head with both her hands, dropping the apple. No, no, no! I didn't! I didn't kill them! she raged internally.
She ran to her room and shut the door quickly behind her, leaning back on it, shutting the mental demons out. Then she opened her eyes and saw it.
Hanging beside her bed was a noose, dangling above a chair. Suddenly, the last line of the poem was remembered oh, so clearly in her mind.
One Indian boy left all alone…
He went and hanged himself and then there were none…
No, not married, she thought. Not happily ever after.
What now? she thought again. Yes, answer the Council's questions… but then? What after she reached Devon again, then London, then Sunnydale? What happened when she went home? Did she even have one? What would she go home to?
Her Watcher was dead.
Her family was dead.
Her friends were dead.
Her love… dead.
There was nothing left for her… right?
What's it like, Buffy? her inner Spike asked. Where does it lead you? And now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land…
She moved slowly to the chair, to the noose.
"It's like… we're on trial or something, you know? And we're being punished," she remembered telling Giles.
"It's not your fault, Buffy," he had said. "Faith's sins are hers alone."
"But I was there! I was part of it! Maybe… maybe we all are guilty…"
Standing on the chair, she looked out the window, out to where the sun met the sea. Across the sea, far on the other side, Faith would be there, in her cell, paying for her crimes.
"Was it my fault? Do I deserve to be punished for an accident? One perpetuated by someone else, just because I was party to it?"
"I… I don't know. Do you, Giles?"
"I don't know, either. It's so absurd… so absurd…"
"Giles?"
"Maybe we are being punished… maybe we do deserve to be…"
Maybe, just maybe Faith, in her cell, maybe she was looking out, out at the sea, out here, knowing that somewhere Buffy was finally paying for hers. Their eyes might lock and they would both know they were finally partners in this crime. Now they had to pay, right? You and me, sister… the Chosen Two…
Buffy grabbed the noose and unconsciously slid it around her neck. There was no reason, nothing waiting for her. Everything was gone and she had to pay, pay for her crime.
Every Slayer has a death wish, her inner Spike said. Even you.
Waiting for one good day, she remembered. But now he wasn't here. Oh, Spike, I'm so sorry, she thought. So sorry.
Do you ever think there's even a remote chance that one day, you could grow to love me?
Buffy looked down, tightening the noose. "Yes, Spike," she answered, honestly.
You are so beautiful, came the whisper. I'm here for you, as long as you need me, too. Maybe I'm setting myself up for the biggest hurt of all…
"No, I need you, too," she said out loud to the empty room. "I need you so much."
Then, let go, Buffy. Come to me. Listen, he said, humming that silly tune.
While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night…
While the weary world is sleeping,
All through the night…
Buffy toed the edge of the chair and using the last of her strength, pushed.
She felt a rush of air expel from her lungs and kicked her legs involuntarily as she felt nothing but air below her.
That's when she saw. Through the haze that threatened to cover her eyes, the darkness that was inching into her vision, she saw her killer, standing there and laughing and she realized they had been tricked.
Angel. She killed him. For no reason. They were fooled all along. There were no crimes to pay, no redemption. Just cold-blooded murder and it was all a trick…
She tried to call out, to claw at the noose cutting off her air, to struggle valiantly against her death, but with no Slayer strength, she couldn't. It was too late…
"Too late," her murderer whispered. "Too late for you and too late for the world!"
Buffy turned and looked out the window. In the haze, the sea looked red, blood red. She sent a silent apology to Faith, for by ending her life, she ended Faith's as well. She made her pay for a crime she had no business paying. They all had. Hadn't they?
O'er my bosom gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing.
Breathes a pure and holy feeling…
Buffy felt the last air leave her and her last thought as the darkness overtook her was, I failed them all. I was the Slayer and I failed them all.
All… through the… night…