(A/N ~ The lines
of poetry I have interspersed throughout (in a totally random order) are from
‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling.)
I
think a lot nowadays about why I tried to kill myself, and yet I find the reasons
are starting to slip away from me. Though, I expect this is probably a good
thing. Nobody should be acutely aware of why they desperately want their life
to end. But I still need to get it straight in my head. I need to know what
brought me to that point, because I don’t want to end up there again.
So, I think about it. Not constantly, but enough. When
I’m lying awake at night, unable to sleep, or when I’m riding the bus to the
mall, it just pops into my head and I try to recall the emotions I felt at the
time. I try to remember the despair and the hopelessness. And I can’t.
Well, I can, technically. I remember feeling that way.
I remember the emptiness and the hurt, but they’re not real to me anymore.
They’re buried in the mists of my memory, blunted by time. It’s like when you
think about an injury you have suffered in the past. You may recall that it was
exceptionally painful, but now when you recollect the event you don’t actually
feel the pain. You are just consciously aware that it once existed.
So, that is what it is like for me now. I remember how
I felt once, but it haunts me no longer. It is a trick of the mind, apparently.
All the negative experiences you have are scaled down by your memory. With the
passing of time nothing ever seems as huge or as bad as it once did. In this
way our sanity is saved from disasters of the past. Soon they cease to plague
us and eventually we forget about them altogether. Time really is nature’s
greatest healer.
“If you can wait and not be tired by waiting…”
Thus when I think about that time now, that’s exactly
what it is. Thinking. Not feeling, not utter desperation, just my rational take
on what drove me to such a breakdown. And I have some theories, let me tell
you. Firstly there are the obvious reasons. I was recently bereaved. My mother
had just died and my sister, well she never existed in the first place, but
that only added to by confusion when she was gone. I never really dealt with
these losses – I just tried to ignore them. I tried to get on with my life as
normal, like nothing had changed. But obviously that wasn’t going to work.
Someone amputates your leg and you don’t just get up and start walking around
again, right? It’s the same when you lose a loved one. It leaves a giant hole
in your life and you can’t just work around that, you have to patch it over
somehow.
Then there are the less obvious reasons. The issues
you find buried just beneath the surface of someone’s personality, the old
hurts and resentments they didn’t even know they were still clinging to. I
missed Angel. This seems blindingly obvious to me now. Of course I missed him
every minute of every day, how could I possibly not have done? When I slip into
Angel’s embrace at the end of each evening it is like finally becoming whole,
complete. And how could I possibly have coped walking round as half a person
for all that time?
But then I didn’t know. Most days Angel didn’t even
enter my head (and I specify my head here, because he was always in my heart –
that he never left). This was because I wouldn’t let myself think of him. Every
time I did the pain just came flooding back. I would just recall his name in
passing and suddenly I was imagining the thrill of his cool lips on mine, and
the heartbreak I felt when he walked away from me (strange how my mind could
never dull that hurt). So, after a while I learnt not to think of him. I
learnt to lock my memories of him away in one of those little boxes I was so
fond of – it made it much easier to cope that way.
So, whenever I felt lost or lonely or like something
was missing in my life I made excuses for myself. It was because Riley left me
or because I was stuck out in a cold cemetery on a dark, rainy night, hunting
down fledglings that wouldn’t have lasted five minutes after sunrise anyway. I
used every defence mechanism in the book to protect myself from the memories of
being separated from the only person I’ve ever felt I truly belonged with.
But
one lesson I remember from the psychology classes I took (apart from never trust
secret government installations trying to play at demon-hunting) is that the
overuse of defence mechanisms separates you from reality. It tips you over the
edge and that’s what happened to me. Thus, when I dropped all my defences and
acknowledged the truth I’d been trying so hard to deny – that I could never
stop loving Angel, that he was part of me as much as I was a part of him. Then
it helped. It didn’t solve all my problems overnight, but it certainly made
dealing with them a lot easier.
The
last part of my theory is that this breakdown has been coming for years now.
Certainly as far back as Angel leaving me, but maybe even further. Maybe it
started when I was Called as the Slayer. Or maybe the seeds were sown even
before then, when my parents divorced bitterly. I think everyone has the
potential to crack, even the strongest people. Every person you meet will have
some problems from their past that they haven’t quite resolved. Each individual
will lie awake at night worrying about something. We all have are ghosts, but
for most these ghosts are manageable.
The
average person will be able to struggle through life. It will not be easy, but
they will cope because their troubles aren’t really that significant. Their
issues can be locked away in little boxes inside their head, whilst they
concentrate on happier things. But for some, like me, it is not that simple.
Life throws so many difficulties at us that we can’t deal with them all at
once. Our boxes start to overflow and all the contents spill out at once. Thus,
the little things, like childhood taunts formerly thought forgotten, or
relationships that failed years ago, they all come out as well. Suddenly all
the stresses you ever faced assail you at once and you snap. You reach your
breaking point. And that is what happened to me.
And
treat those two impostors just the same…”
I
haven’t had it easy in my time. I’ve lived the last five years as two different
people: the Slayer and the person. At first I was just a girl with super
strength. I could do things that other people couldn’t and it made me feel
special. But the longer I was the Slayer the more developed by skills became. I
was a hunter, a predator, a primeval force little more civilised than the
demons my duty required me to fight. My senses were honed and my basic killing
instincts awakened. In the months before my collapse I think was closer to the
First Slayer than I ever was to Buffy.
It
became harder to switch between the two. My sense of self disappeared
completely. How could I suddenly go from being a ruthless slayer to a loving
girlfriend or an understanding confidante? My heart started to harden and some
of the Slayer’s aggression channelled into my personal life. I would appear
uncaring in front of my friends then I would fight to win back the Buffy I once
knew and, whilst concentrating on resurrecting her, get caught out by an
opportunistic vampire. It was this constantly running dichotomy, this fissure
in my personality, which had been growing ever wider for years, that set me on
edge in the first place. I wasn’t functioning properly and when I was hit with
the repeated trauma of losing those people who were dearest to me, it was
simply the trigger for a total breakdown. I had my limits and they were
exceeded. The explanation is no more complex than that.
But
what breaks can more often than not be mended. And human beings are more
resilient than we often think ourselves to be. We are flexible; we bend and
shape to change. We learn and we forget. And all we need to do this is a little
help from the right people. After all, who better to help me reconcile the two
sides of my personality than Angel, who is well practiced at managing the
conflicting desires of a demon and a soul, both of whom share his body. At one
time I thought we fitted together so well, because we were true opposites, he
the darkness and I the light. But now I understand that we are one and the
same. There is darkness and light in each of us, but it is only when we are
together that our light shines its brightest.
Life
is still an uphill struggle. It will always be for me, because that it my lot.
And I am still nowhere near the happy go-lucky Buffy I once was. But that Buffy
was naďve. She neither knew what was in store for her nor fully accepted the
true horrors the world contains. Her innocence was shattered and with it went
her happiness. I am older now, wiser, and I can never gain back that simple
pleasure. But I can have something new. I can use my newfound insight into my
life to improve it and I can learn to be content with what I have. This is what
I am trying to achieve, a different kind of happiness, relaxed and less
frenetic. It is bittersweet, but all the more precious for the misery it
proceeds and the pain it overcomes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Summer has ended now and my real challenge is just beginning,
because for the past two months I’ve been able to take things slowly. I’ve been
living in LA with Angel for most of the time and just making return trips to
Sunnydale when it was necessary. But, starting from next week, college classes
resume, so I will have to move back to Sunnydale full time. I will be launched
totally back into my old life, with no Angel to curl up next to every night.
And I’m terrified. I’m afraid I won’t be able to cope, that having all the old
stresses of my life piled upon me again will prove too much for the fragile
confidence I’ve built back up. I’m scared that I’ll start to slip back
downwards into the black abyss I nearly fell into this summer. But, somehow I
know I won’t. Things will be different this time.
Now I have the support system I lacked before. Now I’m
no longer worried about showing weakness or asking for help. Now each of my
friends is watching me with an eagle eye. They took it amazingly well,
considering how much of a shock it must have been for them. For the first few
days nobody really knew what to say. There were lots of long pauses and lots of
avoiding the subject. Suddenly discussions about the weather were endlessly
fascinating. Those times were awkward and during them I mostly wanted to run
away and cry. I thought life would never get back to normal again, that what I
had done had irreversibly changed the way my friends thought of me. I felt weak
and a failure.
“If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you…”
But I stuck it out. Little rays of hope in the
darkness allowed me to. Because, occasionally whilst sitting drinking tea with
Giles, or watching a movie with Willow (which, incidentally, were always
comedies in some well meaning attempt to cheer me up), or playing cards with
Xander, I would see glimpses of the old way they used to treat me. Xander would
make a joke, Giles would sigh heavily in disapproval, Willow would talk
excitedly about some new spell she’d just perfected. Then suddenly they would
realise what they were doing and go back to ultra-supportive friend mode. ‘Are
you all right Buffy?’ ‘Is there anything you need to talk about?’ ‘How are you
feeling today?’.
Gradually, though, they would forget for longer and
longer periods. They started to be more natural with me. Tara went back home
for part of the summer and Willow wandered around like a lost puppy for a
month. It was strangely comforting, having someone else to be miserable with. I
had long talks with Will about what I had been going through and she understood
and accepted every thought and feeling I had experienced. Xander taught me to
laugh again and once he had discovered that I still could, he spent every
minute of his time with me trying to think up wittier and wittier comments. No
single gesture from Giles could pass without Xander remarking upon it and my
Watcher’s annoyed responses only made the situation more amusing. A single
afternoon spent with Xander would often leave my sides aching with laughter.
Giles on the other hand was supportive in his own
uniquely British way. He seemed reluctant to broach the subject, as if it would
offend me to talk about it. But he would often sit me down and extract from me
reassurances that everything was going OK and I know that he garnered regular
reports on my progress from Angel. Giles was also very understanding about my
slaying. He agreed that I should not be thrown straight back into it before I
was ready and developed a training programme, which would ease me back into my
sacred duties.
When I did finally resume slaying again it was
difficult. I had let my defences down, a necessary course of action in order to
allow me to deal with my emotional problems, but always a bad thing when it
comes to vampire attacks. A single fight with a vampire left me feeling
threatened and vulnerable. I was shaking afterwards and I cried for a long time
in Angel’s arms. By the second vamp I staked, however, I was feeling better.
Angel has been teaching me to recognise my predator’s instincts and to control
them without letting them control me. It took time, but I am getting better at
it. The trick is to learn to harness my automatic reactions, to think before
lashing out with the stake. This necessitates processing situations and sensory
data extremely quickly, in order to come to snap decisions that are based on
logic rather than just my natural impulses. It takes a lot of practice and
focus, which Angel is also helping me with.
Angel. I don’t know what I would have done without him
helping me through the past few months. No, scratch that – without him I would
have been dead. And I mean that both literally (because he saved my life and
took me to hospital) and metaphorically, because without his encouragement and
support and his love then there would have been no Buffy left. Even if I had
survived the attempt I made on my life, if say Xander or Willow had found me,
then I would still be the empty shell I was before this. I would never have
been able to re-ignite the fire that now lives behind my eyes or the spark of
hope that is in my heart. Words can’t express the gratitude I feel towards him,
but then they generally don’t need to be able to. Now I don’t just have to say
I love him and hope he believes it, I can show him as well.
And, yes, I am talking about sex. It has opened up a
whole new dynamic in our relationship. Before it loomed above us like this huge
unspoken concept, casting a shadow over everything we did. There was tension
between us not only due to our unfulfilled desires but also because of the
disaster that was my seventeenth birthday. It was easier for me because I was
so inexperienced in that area. I didn’t realise the new connections that begin
to grow between people once they have shared their love physically. I didn’t
understand that sex opens emotional channels that do not exist without it.
Making
love with someone is the most intimate experience you can ever have, it builds
a new kind of trust between two people. Because everyday we hide ourselves from
the world. We bury our true feelings and fears behind clothes and social
conventions, but during sex you can’t keep up any of those pretences. When you
bare your body you also bare your soul, you reveal to the other person every
insecurity that you have. This is why bad sex with someone you don’t trust can
be so demeaning and upsetting. You expose all your most tightly held secrets to
another person and when they throw that back in your face it is utterly
devastating. But when they embrace your private dreams and fantasies, when they
make the body you may hate feel like the most beautiful, revered thing on
earth, when they accept your most precious gift and return it with their
own…then it is the most glorious feeling the world.
I
once told Angel that I didn’t care about sex and he said that I would, one day.
It seems he has been proved right again but, I hasten to add, not entirely.
Because I only began feeling this positively about sex since I started having
it with Angel. Sleeping with Parker is a disaster I would rather not revisit and
Riley, well, with Riley I could take or leave the sex (apart from the time we
were possessed by evil and apparently sexually frustrated spirits, but I
generally don’t like to talk about that). It wasn’t that it was bad; it was
just that it was more of a physical rather than a spiritual (God, how new age
do I sound?) experience. When I sleep with Angel it feels like our souls join
as well as our bodies, but with Riley it was just sex. Good sex, but
nevertheless, just two people shoving body parts into one another.
Anyway,
I think my point was that I do care about sex - a lot. But only because it’s
with Angel and only because it makes me feel closer to him. It is also a form
of communication, a way to express emotions that I couldn’t possibly form into
words. Like I said before, I can use it to show Angel how much I love him and
he can do the same in return. And when I have been upset Angel has kissed away
my tears and taken me slowly and gently. He has filled my emptiness and made me
realise that I am not alone. Then when I have been angry I have turned that
frustration into passion and vented it wildly.
One
night comes to mind particularly. Angel was taking me to visit my mother’s
grave. It was part of the healing process, sort of a way of accepting she was
really gone and saying goodbye. I had been avoiding the place since the
funeral; it was just too difficult for me to face. I wanted to put the whole
thing behind me, wanted to carry on like nothing had happened, like my Mom was
just away on a trip or something. But now I knew I had to close that chapter in
my life, now matter how painful it was to do so. I had brought a bouquet of
yellow roses to lay on the grave and I was just kneeling before the headstone
to deposit them when a group of vampires appeared out of nowhere. The leader
said some horrible, cruel things about me being a bereaved little girl and I
just saw red.
I
was so angry I couldn’t even think straight. How dare these demons interrupt my
most private moments of grief? They dictated far too much of my life already
without intruding here as well. I literally flew at the vampires and they had
no idea what was going on. They had expected me to cower in fear rather than
attack them viciously. I had no weapons so I just hit and kicked and even bit a
few times. I don’t remember much about this, apart from the last vampire
exploding into dust and me toppling over into Angel’s arms. I was shaking with
fury and by that point I had cried so much there were no tears left. My heart
was pounding and my pulse racing and there was still all this energy inside me
that desperately needed an outlet. So, I did the first thing that came
instinctively. I pulled my mate to me and kissed him with passionate abandon.
Angel
was a reluctant partner at first, until I explained to him with my insistent
hands and mouth that this is what I wanted, what I needed. To get caught
up in the moment, to forget who I am and where I was, to break the dam of
repressed feelings and let them all wash over me at once. He was soon kissing
me back with equal fervour. We assaulted each other’s mouths, tongues wrestling
with one another, teeth clashing and I began to tear at his clothing. Angel
obligingly removed his heavy coat but unfortunately he wasn’t so quick with his
shirt and I ripped it from him, exposing his bare chest to my ministrations.
I
dug my nails into his back, leaving long scratch marks and I nibbled at his
exposed skin, biting down on his nipples and clamping my blunt teeth over the
artery in his neck. This was all the encouragement he needed and suddenly the
ground disappeared from beneath my feet. Seconds later I landed heavily in the
soft grass, Angel’s large body pinning me down. I felt my leather pants being
yanked abruptly down and I responded by fumbling at Angel’s belt buckle. There
was a brief interlude, whilst we divested each other of our remaining clothing,
during which Angel’s eyes met mine. In them I saw fire, passion and thinly
veiled arousal. I surrendered myself to him, gasping audibly as he brought me to
climax with his fingers.
Then
I took control of the situation again, flipping him over onto his back and
impaling myself upon him in one fluid movement. Our thrusts were rough and
animalistic and our pelvises clashed together jarringly. The moonlight glinted
off Angel’s pale body and I thought he had never looked more beautiful, or more
feral. When we came simultaneously it was like the last of the barriers between
us were broken. This was final exposure of our most basic selves and our
wildest desires. This was an act not thought through rationally or consciously,
but taken solely on emotion. We had relinquished the controls over our
behaviour and with them went social conventions. This was just us taking what
we needed from each other’s bodies.
Afterwards
I collapsed panting and weeping on Angel’s chest. He rocked me in his arms and
whispered comforting words. Then when we were dressed again, he held my hand
tightly as I said my final goodbyes to my mother. It did not seem sordid to mix
sex and grief in this way, because what I did with Angel wasn’t about the
physical pleasure, it was about emotional release. It was my own personal
catharsis and when it was done I felt freer and more relaxed, like the tension
had been drained out of me. And nothing between Angel and I could ever be
sordid, because it was always carried out with the highest and purest of
motivations. We loved each other completely and that made everything else OK.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I decided to sell the house. It was just too painful
to live there anymore. Every time I went back all I could see was the couch
where I found my Mom’s body or the bed where I lay down to die at my own hand.
I think perhaps that is the saddest thing to come out of this whole affair that
I didn’t just lose a house I lost a home. The place used to be so warm,
so full of noise and life. The TV was always on or the radio. Mom and I would
fight each other with our stereos – her with her classical music, me with the
newest CD from my extensive collection. There would be fresh flowers in all the
vases and delicious smells of cooking emanated from the kitchen. But when I
went back there the place was cold and empty, the flowers were dead and all the
rooms silent.
Walking through that house again took every ounce of
strength I had, even with the support of Angel and my friends at my side. Just
the change in its atmosphere was enough to remind me of everything I’d lost and
everything I would never have again. Nothing can replace your family and that
was what I missed when I saw again those abandoned rooms. It all looked exactly
the same as when Mom had died, but it all felt different. Her soft, sweet
smelling presence would never fill these rooms again. Dust coated her
belongings and she would never return to remove it.
Most
things I couldn’t even bear to touch, they just evoked too many memories. Also
I didn’t want to move anything, because that was how Mom left it. It was how
she wanted it. As long as she the last person to have handled something, like
the pots in the kitchen or her hairbrush on the dresser, then it was almost as
if she wasn’t totally gone. She still impacted on my surroundings. Her presence
still existed. Her mail still lay unopened on the kitchen counter, like she was
expected home any minute.
And
part of me still believed that. Some little girl part whose Mommy would never
leave her, still expected for my Mom to walk through the door and take me in
her embrace. And I would smell again the light scent of her perfume, and feel
her smooth cheek against mine. Her warm arms would cradle me and she would make
everything better again. Visiting her grave took away that illusion and I began
to deal with the reality of never seeing her again. It was hard and there were
a lot of tears. But now at least I can think of her fondly without painful
feelings of abandonment or betrayal.
I
still couldn’t bring myself to disturb her things, though. Too many memories I
suppose, and because they weren’t mine to disturb. Dead or not she still
deserved her privacy and rifling through all her belongings just seemed
disrespectful. I removed some of the more precious items I knew she would have
wanted me to have, like her jewellery and her photograph albums then I hired a
house clearance firm. I told them to do whatever they wanted with all the
stuff. As harsh as it sounds, I just wanted rid of it all.
The
same went for everything I owned in my room. Again I selected items that had
sentimental (or, admittedly, monetary) value, my own jewellery, diaries, gifts
received, some items of clothing, but the rest of it I left behind. I was
starting a new life and a clean slate. I wanted to wipe away the old as much as
was possible. I had moved on light years from the girl who grew up in that
house. I wasn’t her anymore and she wasn’t me, so there was no reason I should
hold on to any of her things. I knew I’d regret losing a lot of it in the
future, but it was just something I had to do, like a cleansing ritual or
something.
I’m
not saying it didn’t kill me to leave behind all the good memories, because it
did. So many great things happened in that house. I remember Thanksgivings and
Christmases spent with my mother and Dawn, where Mom would cook far too much
food and we would all gorge ourselves then fall asleep together in a satiated
heap on the living room sofa. I remember having girls’ nights in with Will and
also occasionally and very bizarrely Xander, when we would eat popcorn and
watch stupid movies and paint each other’s nails (and yes, I am still including
Xander here). I remember sitting out on the roof with Angel looking up at the
stars. He would name the constellations and I would look and see every single
one of them reflected in his eyes. There were so many great times…
And
I nearly couldn’t do it. I nearly couldn’t hand the keys over to the agent and
sign away all those wonderful memories, but I knew they would live on in my
heart and in my head. I didn’t need a house or a bunch of stuff to remind me of
all the good times I’ve had, because they are part of me. They are who I am as
much as all the bad things that have happened to me are.
It
didn’t take long to find a buyer for the house, apparently it was prime real
estate (whatever that means) and the price had been set low for a quick sale.
It was a nice couple, with two young children, who bought it. I met them once
and the woman hugged me and said she was sorry about my mother dying. They said
I could come over and visit anytime I wanted, but I told them that wouldn’t be
necessary. I almost warned them about the Hellmouth and told them to get out of
Sunnydale, that it wasn’t nearly the smart, safe, suburbia that it appeared.
But in the end I just smiled and shook their hands and hoped that the house
brought them more luck than it had ever brought me.
So,
it turned out I was actually quite rich, what with the inheriting my mother’s
savings and the proceeds of the house sale. Giles stepped in here. He was not
going to let me squander my money on, and I quote, ‘youthful extravagances’. He
set up some kind of investment account that matures in five years time (‘when
I’ve gained enough maturity to manage my own finances wisely’) and for now I
will be able to live quite comfortably on the interest.
Willow
and I found an apartment together. I felt a bit guilty, like I was stopping her
living with Tara or something, but she insisted and I didn’t really want to
have to live on my own, anyway. Angel still has to stay in LA, because he has
responsibilities there – Cordelia mentioned helping the hopeless and defeating
some evil lawyers. I’m not sure of the details; Angel and I don’t really talk
much about work, but I know he has his own duty to perform, just like I have.
I
think this is what worries me the most about the upcoming start of the new
college year – having to suffer long periods of time away from Angel. Lately I
have been torn between spending every available second with him in LA, while I
still have the chance, and trying to wean myself off his company. I know I have
become dependent upon his close support, so not having him around 24/7 will be
a definite test of my strength and emotional stability. To use a rather corny
analogy, next week I will be set afloat without my water wings and I will just
have to find out whether I sink or swim.
I
am not going to be completely alone, however, Angel is only a two hour drive
away and he promises to visit every weekend without fail (barring some hideous
disaster of apocalyptic proportions, that is). Plus there is the phone and
letters and even e-mail (though I am going to leave the joys of teaching
computer skills to a 250-year-old vampire in the capable hands of Cordelia), so
it won’t really be like we’re apart at all. Not that I’m sure that’ll stop me
missing him any less, but I console myself that it’s only for two more years,
then I’ll have finished college and we can come to a more permanent living
arrangement. Strangely enough two years seems like almost no time at all in the
grand scheme of things. I suppose it’s because now Angel and I are together I know
that it is forever - big, huge ‘til death do us part stuff. And two short years
are nothing compared to the whole future we possess.
And I have my
friends. Now that they realise I have my breaking point just like them, they
will not let me reach it again. Although things are almost back to normal
between us I still see signs of new supportiveness, concern and sensitivity,
which were not there before. Every so often Willow will just give me a hug for
no reason, just to cheer me up or let me know she still cares. Giles takes out
extra time to work on my training. Xander buys me silly gifts like fluffy pens
or postcards with mottos like ‘Less Stress, More Ice Cream’ or ‘We all need
Love, Hugs and Jellybabies’. Even Anya seems to have become friendlier – in my
most charitable moments I could almost begin to like her. And we all set apart
one night a week to get together as a group and just have fun.
So, I’m actually
doing all right. I still have the nightmares and the moment of self doubt and
sometimes I even still find myself sitting and staring for hours at the place
on my wrists where those scars used to be. Slayer super healing is brilliant, I
have no marks left at all, only smooth pale skin. And I wonder whether I did it
at all or if I just dreamed slitting my wrists. Sometimes I wonder if this
whole thing is a dream and I’m going to wake up in my old bedroom in LA an
ordinary fifteen-year-old girl. But the strange thing is that even if I could
erase the last five years and do them again, just not as the Slayer, then I
wouldn’t. Because even after all the bad things that have happened, even after
all the pain and the misery I regret nothing.
Most people’s
lives are like train rides; they cruise along the tracks at a steady speed.
They get a few bends and a few hills, but that’s it. My life, however, is a
roller coaster. It hurtles along at breakneck speed and I rarely have time to
catch my breath, let alone stop and think. Occasionally the ride plummets to
terrifying depths and it’s all I can do to hold on, but other times it climbs
to incredible heights, where the view is utterly breathtaking. And whatever’s
going on it is always exhilarating. If I weren’t the Slayer then I wouldn’t be
Buffy. If I hadn’t seen death then I wouldn’t value life so much. If I hadn’t
experienced sorrow then I wouldn’t know how sweet happiness tastes. If I
weren’t the person I am today then I wouldn’t have such wonderful people in my
life who love me so much, people I wouldn’t trade for all the normalcy or
blissful ignorance in the world.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Today has been
wonderful. We all got together and went to the beach, even Giles (who, scarily
enough, didn’t actually look too bad in swimming trunks – we are going to have
to find that guy a girlfriend). And it was the best day I can remember in a
long time. We brought a picnic, we played beach volleyball, we spent hours just
lying in the hot sand, trying to cultivate skin cancer, then we splashed about
in the sea to cool off. Everything was just pure, childlike, non-Hellmouthy
fun. And you know, before today I had forgotten what that feels like, just to
enjoy yourself with no worries. Not to have your problems or your
responsibilities constantly encroaching upon the edge of your vision. To be
free.
It is evening
now. The sun has shortly dropped beneath the horizon in a dazzling display of
colour. I walk off alone down the beach, away from where my friends gather.
They have lit a fire and I briefly look back at the warm glow it casts over the
group. The flickering flames illuminate their faces and each one is smiling or
laughing. They are all so happy and anytime I wish I could rejoin that carefree
atmosphere. I am part of it now and it finally feels that way. But for the
moment I am content to walk alone in peaceful contemplation. I like to do that
now, to stop and think and cement my memories. It is something I have recently
started doing that I never would have considered before, something that is part
of the brand new Buffy. I am quieter, more introspective. I don’t just barrel
in and to hell with the consequences. My life is more than just living, it is
thinking, feeling and sharing those thoughts with others.
“If you can
dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think
– and not make thoughts your aim…”
As I walk further
away and the noise of my friends’ laughter fades, I get the sense of stepping
out of a bubble. Maybe that’s what today has been, a bubble of simple joy in my
otherwise difficult life. If so, then I’m surprisingly all right with that. I
don’t expect every day to be a holiday; I don’t expect it all to be
straightforward and untroubled, because, God knows, it hasn’t been so far. Over
this summer I have lost count of the number of times I’ve cried, or given up
trying, or wished that I had managed to end my life that night. But each
successive time it’s gotten a little easier to snap myself out of it, each time
the feelings of despair were a little less intense and the gaps between my
bouts of depression have grown longer and longer.
So, this I take
as a sign I’m getting better. It is a slow and steady process, but an ongoing
one, nonetheless. I don’t kid myself that there won’t be occasions when I’ll
cry again or when I’ll once again lose sight of my reasons for living, because
this is a battle I’m fighting. I’m the Slayer, I wage a war with the forces of
darkness and the weapons they use are not always physical. They will try to
break my spirit and attempt to push me over the edge, but this time I will not
be falling. It may be a battle, but at least it is one I now feel I can win.
“If you can
force your nerve and heart and sinew
To serve you long
after they are gone,
And so hold on
when there is nothing in you
Except the Will
which says to them: ‘Hold on!’”
The sand appears
almost white in the pale moonlight and the stars reflect in the sea, like
thousands of tiny diamonds. The waves crash softly against the shore and I hear
the call of a solitary gull in the distance. A warm breeze ruffles my hair and
I am grateful for it. It is fresh and cleansing, and its coolness seems to
revive me from the heat-induced stupor I have been suffering all day. I am
startled by a foreign noise from behind me, and I turn to see who has disturbed
my privacy.
I am almost
surprised to see Spike standing there, but not quite – nothing much surprises
me anymore. I haven’t seen him in a long time and I expect all the old feelings
he used to evoke in me to come rushing back, but they don’t. Whereas I used to
fear his barbs, because they cut straight to the heart of feelings I was
generally trying desperately to ignore, now I feel no threat from him. There
was nothing Spike could say about me that I hadn’t acknowledged already over
this summer. All my hidden feelings, my fears and my faults, I’ve had to face
them all and they can hurt me no longer.
“If you can
bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves
to make a trap for fools…”
Now I just feel
pity for him. Vampires, like humans, are social creatures. They crave company
and love too. Spike, however, has been rejected by his society and when I see
him now I get the sense of terrible loneliness.
“Haven’t seen you
around much lately, Slayer.” He remarks.
A slight smile
twists my lips. “You miss me?”
He looks taken
aback by this question and I think that maybe my newfound insight extends not
only to myself but also to the feelings of others. Some old, resentful part of
me that still remembers Spike’s pre-chip days, begs me to stick the knife in
here and to twist it viciously. To make a quip about Drusilla or his current
one-bedroomed crypt. But I resist the urge. I am only supposed to use my powers
for good, remember?
“It’s just that
things have been a little boring without having you and your little buddies to
torment.” Spike mutters in reply.
“Well, I’m back
now.” I tell him.
“Good.” He says.
“I mean, I’m glad you’re OK, because I want you still alive for when I get this
bloody chip out, then I can kill you myself.”
I look him
straight in the eye and speak utterly seriously. “Thank you, Spike.”
I swear that if
he could blush he would have done. He turns away from me and stubs his
cigarette out on the ground, then proceeds to light another one. When he turns
back he has a strange expression on his face.
“So, I hear
you’re back dating Peaches again.”
“Yeah.” I smile
involuntarily at the mention of Angel. “Who told you that?”
He shrugs. “It
gets around, you know. Demons want to know who the Slayer’s involved with.
Gives them possible ammunition against her.”
I nod then think
for a minute. “Spike, would you like to join us? We have beer.”
He snorts. “Why
would I want to hang out with a bunch of white hats? I’ve got an image to keep
up here.”
“Fine.” I reply,
turning my back on him to return to my friends. But when I walk down the beach
I sense him following me a few steps behind. When we arrive back at the
fireside the group give him a few strange looks, but then Xander throws him a
can of beer and Spike settles down in a deckchair to drink it.
A few minutes
later I feel strong arms encircle my waist and soft lips kissing my neck. I
lean back into Angel’s body and sigh contentedly, having him near makes for the
perfect end to the perfect day. We stand looking out into the ocean for a short
while then I turn and kiss him teasingly on the tip of his nose, before pulling
away. He responds by scooping me up in arms and carrying me over to the water’s
edge. He threatens to drop me in and I make a non-serious attempt to struggle
with him, as being the Slayer I could easily have escaped if I wanted to.
Angel maintains
his tight grip on me and I suddenly realise I am screaming and giggling. I feel
exactly like any other young woman being mercilessly teased by her boyfriend
and I love every second of it. For this moment at least, the Hellmouth doesn’t
exist and neither do any of my other problems. All the misery of the past few
years is erased by a single second of pure happiness and forgetfulness. I make
myself go limp and Angel lowers me to the ground. Ignoring the fact I am now up
to my ankles in water I kiss him deeply and passionately, then turn back to
smirk at the ensuing catcalls from my so-called friends.
I stand on the
edge of the sea, waves lapping at my toes, secure in Angel’s embrace and I
compare today to other times spent at the beach, just a few months ago. Then I
would come alone. I would watch the children playing and the lovers walking
hand in hand along the sands and I felt nothing. I only knew the emptiness that
was inside me and my only sensation was that of the hot sun beating down on my
bare skin. It seems like a lifetime ago, because now I am so full. My heart
bursts with love and hope and happiness. Suddenly the future seems bright and I
cannot wait to live it.
“Then yours is
the earth and everything that’s in it.”
THE END