For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.
Chapter 13
Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"
Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path
Rating- May get to R eventually
'Why must it always end in blood and death? It seems that I have been continuously hounded by death and destruction for as long as I can remember. Worse, I'm a carrier, bringing grief and sorrow to all the lives I've touched. If I hadn't tried to escape that, I could have helped Faith. Faith, shit. I stood there and condemned Faith for a death or two. If it didn't hurt so much, I would fall over laughing at the hypocrisy of that little scene. I've killed more people than second hand smoke, a veritable slaughtering machine. Not a Slayer, Proper Slayers kill the monsters, and protect the humans. That's the way it's supposed to be. Somehow that slipped by the wayside sometimes, after a while, it didn't seem to matter. I could justify almost anything; they were helping the vamp, they weren't willing to help me kill the vamps, they were the vamps blood supply. Where did the justification end and the cold-heartedness begin? I so wanted to come here and start over, fight the good fight, don't give in to the futility. I know what's coming next. I hope I can be strong for them; I can only be strong for myself for so long. There are enough bodies around to prove that.'
"Maybe I'll try the truth, what a novel approach!"
She looks over at Willow's body lying there in the cave, the peaceful slack faced look of the dead barely visible through the simple veil placed over her chalky face.
"Willow, it wasn't supposed to go down like this. We should have never done the spell. You would have stayed blissfully unaware of my monstrous past. Those were things I wanted no one to know, even myself. I guess it's futile to try and escape who you are"
'She saw the worst part of me, and I think it overwhelmed her. At least she was her in the end. I still can't believe that as you knelt there, propped up by a spear through the chest, that you still asked ME to forgive YOU! Your death was my fault, just as surely as if I had held the spear and sunk it home through your heart myself. '
She sat in the cave, sharpening and oiling the dark steel of her short sword, momentarily getting lost into the grain of the steel, wishing for blissful forgetfulness, knowing what must be done next, and a bit afraid of what was to come.
The rain came down in sheets, with no sign of letting up. A grey morning seemed oh so appropriate.
To Be Continued
All Reviews Welcome
