"Every slayer has a death wish, even you."
I can still remember hearing Spike say that. The words echoed through my mind and as much as it hurt to even contemplate the idea, I knew that he was right.
I guess I did have a death wish or at least a passing thought that I just wanted it over with. Finished. I knew that one day my final battle would come and I would lose. That one day, I would die and part of me didn't even care. That part of me wanted it over no matter who got hurt in the process.
And yes, that day came. The day when I knew I wouldn't win. I was once told death was my gift. Understanding that concept didn't come easy. Death isn't a gift to anyone. I thought of death in the way of me causing it and it becoming me not of me preventing it and I couldn't see how that was a gift to anyone. But I finally figured it out. I eventually understood and I was ok. I wasn't just a killer I was a protector.
And from preventing death and protecting others I was led to my gift.
My death, my sacrifice wasn't without reward. It was my karma. I did something good for the world and the world returned my favour. It made me happy. I was dead and yet I was happy, at peace. I knew everyone I cared about was alright. I knew it. Time didn't mean anything, nothing had form but I was still me and I was warm and I was loved and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand theology or dimensions, any of it really but I think I was in heaven and now I'm not. I was torn out of there, pulled out by my friends. Everything here its hard and bright and violent; everything I feel, everything I touch. This is hell. Just getting through the next moment and the one after that knowing what I've lost.
Was I supposed to be grateful? I didn't know what I was supposed to feel or if I could feel at all but I did know this: I was touched my friends felt so much love for me that they gave me one of the greatest gifts they had to give - life. But I was also angry and hurt that they couldn't have just left me in the hands of fate. Destiny had decided this for me, it was my design and they changed it, messed with it and destroyed it. They breathed life where it may not necessarily have been welcome and I didn't know how to react to that so I lied.
I lied to my friends and I lied to my sister. I couldn't tell them the truth, I just couldn't. I knew that if they found where I really was it'd destroy them because they wouldn't be able to deal with the fact that I was happier dead than with them. So I lied again. I told them I was in hell. I tried not to talk about it. I'd lied enough already and I really didn't want to do it again. I tried to be brave, I tried to be happy and I tried to smile. But I cant, not anymore.
I had to laugh though. "She saved the world, a lot." That's what I saw written on my headstone. My headstone! That was a surreal experience if ever I've had one. I probably would have laughed if it hadn't been for the mind numbing fear of traveling through dimensions, waking up in a coffin, digging myself out of my own grave and living in a hellish place knowing I've lost my place in heaven. For now anyway. I did wonder who had thought of it though! Xander? Willow? Little Dawnie? Or maybe even Giles? He has been known to crack a joke once in a while in his own British way. I guess I did save the world - a lot - stop the apocalypse. And now I have to do it all over again! But I don't know if I can. If I can face doing it all again and not let it beat me knowing what I'd gain if it did. I used to know what was right; I used to know what I had to do. Don't have that anymore, choices are getting harder and consequences are getting harsher and it's too much. I have the weight of the world back on my shoulders and it's crippling.
I can still remember hearing Spike say that. The words echoed through my mind and as much as it hurt to even contemplate the idea, I knew that he was right.
I guess I did have a death wish or at least a passing thought that I just wanted it over with. Finished. I knew that one day my final battle would come and I would lose. That one day, I would die and part of me didn't even care. That part of me wanted it over no matter who got hurt in the process.
And yes, that day came. The day when I knew I wouldn't win. I was once told death was my gift. Understanding that concept didn't come easy. Death isn't a gift to anyone. I thought of death in the way of me causing it and it becoming me not of me preventing it and I couldn't see how that was a gift to anyone. But I finally figured it out. I eventually understood and I was ok. I wasn't just a killer I was a protector.
And from preventing death and protecting others I was led to my gift.
My death, my sacrifice wasn't without reward. It was my karma. I did something good for the world and the world returned my favour. It made me happy. I was dead and yet I was happy, at peace. I knew everyone I cared about was alright. I knew it. Time didn't mean anything, nothing had form but I was still me and I was warm and I was loved and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand theology or dimensions, any of it really but I think I was in heaven and now I'm not. I was torn out of there, pulled out by my friends. Everything here its hard and bright and violent; everything I feel, everything I touch. This is hell. Just getting through the next moment and the one after that knowing what I've lost.
Was I supposed to be grateful? I didn't know what I was supposed to feel or if I could feel at all but I did know this: I was touched my friends felt so much love for me that they gave me one of the greatest gifts they had to give - life. But I was also angry and hurt that they couldn't have just left me in the hands of fate. Destiny had decided this for me, it was my design and they changed it, messed with it and destroyed it. They breathed life where it may not necessarily have been welcome and I didn't know how to react to that so I lied.
I lied to my friends and I lied to my sister. I couldn't tell them the truth, I just couldn't. I knew that if they found where I really was it'd destroy them because they wouldn't be able to deal with the fact that I was happier dead than with them. So I lied again. I told them I was in hell. I tried not to talk about it. I'd lied enough already and I really didn't want to do it again. I tried to be brave, I tried to be happy and I tried to smile. But I cant, not anymore.
I had to laugh though. "She saved the world, a lot." That's what I saw written on my headstone. My headstone! That was a surreal experience if ever I've had one. I probably would have laughed if it hadn't been for the mind numbing fear of traveling through dimensions, waking up in a coffin, digging myself out of my own grave and living in a hellish place knowing I've lost my place in heaven. For now anyway. I did wonder who had thought of it though! Xander? Willow? Little Dawnie? Or maybe even Giles? He has been known to crack a joke once in a while in his own British way. I guess I did save the world - a lot - stop the apocalypse. And now I have to do it all over again! But I don't know if I can. If I can face doing it all again and not let it beat me knowing what I'd gain if it did. I used to know what was right; I used to know what I had to do. Don't have that anymore, choices are getting harder and consequences are getting harsher and it's too much. I have the weight of the world back on my shoulders and it's crippling.