EARLY JUNE, 1998
"I was so pigheaded and stupid. I should’ve listened to Angel and gone to the doctor. It didn’t hurt anymore. At least I wasn’t lying," Gillian said with a sigh.
"So, you were even worse then?" Buffy asked.
"Mmm-hmm. Only, I didn’t know it yet, Me and Angel went home and got on with our lives."
"I never hear much about you Watcher, Jake, as you call him," Giles siad.
Gillian shrugged. "Never liked him. He was hardly ever around. Angel was the one who basically trained me. Although I did ask him an important question later."
"TELL US WHY YOU’RE STILL ALIVE!" Buffy said, getting exasperated.
Gillian laughed. "It seems abvious to me, but that’s because I know. Anyway, my story picks up a month and a week later. My stomach really started hurting, so Angel made me go see a doctor. I’m glad he did . . ."
* * *
FEBRUARY, 1927
"So, a little over a month ago, you were kicked in the stomach and you waited until now to tell anyone about it?" the doctor asked Gillian incredualously.
Gillian nodded.
"Why?" the doctor, Dr. Adams, asked.
"Well—it stopped hurting. I’ve been in fights before and thought I was just a little sore."
Dr. Adams sighed and shook his head.
"What is it?" Angel, who had taken Gillian, asked anxiously.
Dr. Adams sighed again. "Well, I’m not actually sure what it really did, but I know that it has gotten worse. Now, Gillian is strong so I would’ve estimated that she has—oh, about three or four months."
"But?" Gillian asked, knowing more was coming.
"The kick to your stomach did extensive damage. Unattended, it has shortened you life expectancy."
"H—how short?" Gillian asked. Angel seemed unable to speak.
Dr. Adams sighed and spoke gently, placing his hand on the Slayer’s arm. "Gillian, I don’t think you’ll make it to your seventeenth birthday."
* * *
Angel opened the front door of his apartment and led Gillian in. Neither one had spoken the whole way home.
"You okay?" Angel asked now, resting his hand on her trembling arm.
Gillian laughed, shaking his hand off. "Oh, why wouldn’t I be okay? I don’t care!" Laugh. "I’m just gonna die before my birthday!" Laugh. "I have until March third!" Laugh. "Why wouldn’t I be okay?" Laugh.
Angel saw Gillian was desperately trying not to cry. He walked over and pulled her into a hug as she started crying.
"Oh, Gillian. I’ll take care of you."
* * *
EARLY JUNE, 1998
"And he DID take care of me. Almost too much, actually. He felt it was his fault for not getting me checked out right away." Gillian looked down at her hand resting in her.
"So, you’re dying, like, REALLY now," Buffy said.
"Mmm-hmm," Gillian said, looking back up. "One day, his taking care of me really got on my nerves. He just HAD to watch over me . . ."
* * *
FEBRUARY, 1927
Gillian swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood up. She slowly made her way out to the kitchen where Angel was making her breakfast.
"Hey," she said softly with a smile.
Angel turned around. "You shouldn’t be up, Gillian. I was gonna bring you breakfast."
"I can do it myself, Angel. I’m not gonna break," she said, walking over closer to him.
Angel grabbed onto Gillian’s arms. "You’re sick, Jilly. You need taken care of!"
"Not all the time! I think I can walk!"
"No, Gillian! You shouldn’t over exert yourself!"
Gillian broke free of Angel’s grasp and ran out the door into the bright sunlight. Angel followed as far as the shade would allow him, then stopped.
"Gillian!" he cried irratbly.
Gillian turned around. Tears were running down her cheeks, her firey hair in her face. "What if I died right here, Angel? Huh? What if I just collapsed right here in the sunlight? What would YOU do for me? Huh?"
Angel just stood in the doorway, helpless. He felt a single tear make a solitary path down his cheek.
"You can’t always protect me, Angel! You have to realize that! You can’t be there for me every single moment, can you? No matter how much we hate it, it’s true! You can’t take care of me all the time! Before you know it, I’ll be dead and you will have been too busy worrying about taking care of me to enjoy what little time we have left together! I just want you, Angel! I . . . just . . . want . . . you." Gillian’s last sentence was broken apart by sobs and she collapsed to the ground, crying.
"Gillian, come back!" Angel called, wanting to take her in his arms, but helpless.
"Why . . . don’t . . . you . . . come . . . get me?" she sobbed.
"Okay," Angel said. He slid his right foot out into the sunlight, ignoring the burning pain it caused.
"No, Angel! Don’t you dare!" Gillian stood up and ran to Angel, practically tackling him as she shoved him into the house. "Don’t . . . you . . . dare!" She was sobbing again, her arms wrapped around his middle.
"I’m sorry," Angel whispered, pulling her head up against his chest. He had just wanted to scare Gillian enough to come back in.
"I . . . can’t . . . live without you, Angel. If you leave me, I’ll die. Everyone else I ever cared about left me already. I can’t do this without you."
Angel pulled Gillian over to the sofa and they collapsed on it.
"I’ll never leave you, Gillian," Angel said, kissing her curly red hair. "I’ll never leave you. I promise."
* * *
Five days later, Gillian walked into the kitchen for breakfast to see Jake there, already eating.
Gillian sat down next to him and poured herself a bowl of cereal.
"’Morning," he said.
"’Morning," Gillian replied. After a few minutes of silence, Gillian started her carefully planned question. "You know, Jake, since I’m dying and all, I’ve been wanting to know about—everything, and I have a question for you."
"Yeah? Unless it’s about vampires, I probably won’t know."
"Well, it is. I was wondering—if a Slayer was ever changed—into a vampire—what would happen?"
Jake stopped eating and looked at Gillian. "Well, I actually HAVE done some reading on this and it’s quite interesting. A Slayer has a stronger soul than any normal human so a Slayer turned into a vampire would still be themselves." Jake paused. "I can’t imagine why any Slayer would actually want to, though. I mean, even one who’s dying like you. It’s just not right."
"Of course," Gillian replied perfectly innocently.
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