DISCLAIMER: Once again…I don’t own anything ‘cept my computer…which is brassing me off. I obviously don’t own the Goo Goo dolls, cause I never would have used that name, and I defiantly don’t own "The City of Angels" cause I wouldn’t have allowed such a crappy ending, but that another story
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story picks up in Buffy’s POV again. Um…ya…that’s all…read. I LOVE FEEDBACK!
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Epilogue
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*And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest thing to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
I’m going home. I’ve been gone nearly 3 and a half months, not much time by most people’s standards…but when you’re alone…it drags on slowly and seems an eternity. It’s funny though, I’m going home, to my friends and family, and though I miss them, its Angel I miss the most. It’s ironic…after all the evil things that demon using his flesh did…and after the fact that he’s trapped in hell…he’s the one I want the most. To see him. To touch him. To hear him…to feel him. God…just to indulge my five…or six senses in him, even for a minute…
*And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
I don’t want to miss him…I just want to go on, like I never met him…so it wouldn’t hurt as much. Still, despite all that’s happened, I don’t really regret sleeping with him…I just regret the fact that he lost his soul. That we couldn’t have done something to prevent it. God knows there’s got to be a spell like "How-to-keep-your-demonic-boyfriends-soul-in-tact-while-making-love" or a SLPD device (soul loss protection device) Man, I have a really dark sense of humor…can you blame me?
*And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Whoever said everything is made to be broken, wasn’t considering the human heart. My mom’s, Gile’s, Willow’s, Xander’s…Angel’s. I am the slayer…the chosen one for this generation…and I must stand alone against the forces of darkness, teenage hormones, demonic boyfriends and psychotic principals. I’ve got friends to help me out…and a loving mother to be the "normal" part of my life, groundings and all…but I still feel alone.
*And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything seems like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know your alive
No more tears. Truth is…even if I wanted to cry, I couldn’t. I’m all cried out. After writing to Angel, I must have cried all night, letting it all out. Whoever was next to me in the motel must have thought I was a schizophrenic. Its like I’m in some twisted movie. I’m trapped in some weird script, and no matter what I do…I have no control to what happens in the end. No matter how hard I try…I’ve been searching for a meaning to it all. Some greater answer, other than "you’re the chosen one"
(Author’s Note: Okay.. total irony or something…this is for Joss! Damn it! I want a happy ending! Back to the epilogue)
*And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
I wish I could stand on a building, or go on national TV and announce to the world "I’m the slayer! Pay me some respect!" and not have to worry about nice men in white jackets coming and taking me away. I want to announce to the world that thanks to me, they are saved at least once a week from impending doom and the depths of hell, so lay off and gimme a break! And if I don’t have an assignment in on time, I have a damn good reason! But, that’s never gonna happen, not even on the hellmouth.
*I just want you to know who I am
Well, I’ve come to my conclusions, my "meaning" for it all. I am Buffy Summers. I’m seventeen years old. I have blond hair and blue-green eyes. I like shoes and butterflies. My two best friends are Willow and Xander. My mentor is Giles. My parents are Joyce and Hank. They’re divorced, which is not my fault. Not everything is my fault. Fate plays a role for everyone. Life can be a real B!@#$. I love a 242 year old vampire named Angel. And…I’m the slayer.
That’s my meaning. It isn’t much, but when your 17 and your life expectancy is about 2+ years on 17, this is as good as its gonna get. Its my meaning…and it feels right. For the first time in a long time…it feels right.
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