Died Alone, A Long Long Time Ago
What was it Cordy had said all those years ago? Something about being alone even when she was in a crowd and not knowing if her friends really even liked her or her popularity? Typical rich bitch speech, and yet... somehow the gist of it seemed to really connect to her in that moment. Buffy Summers wasn't even popular in Slayer circles, but the people who were around her didn't even know her.

For 14 years her life had been a lie. For 14 years she'd been THE Slayer. The one, the only, the chosen ONE. Oh, of course there were others now, there had been others for 12 of those years, starting with Kendra, then Faith, then seemingly every girl in the fucking universe, but she was the one they all expected to do the job. The others got to prance around in the sun and say they were so great but they only fought the big battles. The ones Buffy told Giles about. She downed more of her Irish whiskey.

We passed upon the stair, spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as a surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago

I did! I died alone a long long time ago and they kept stealing me back!
Buffy thought angrily as the old Nirvana song played in the seedy Los Angeles dive she'd ended up in this night. The scar across her neck ached and she wished for the millionth time that night that it would heal already. Damn demons, she grew angrier still.

In all the years she'd wanted to become something other than the Slayer, she'd never wanted to stop being the Slayer. Now she did. She didn't want to be someone else, she'd given up that false hope with the dreams of a reunion with Angel, and she'd given that up before the First came along. She couldn't live in dreams anymore.

Oh no, not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

I didn't sell it, but I turned it over to a bunch of spoiled brats who still have lights in their eyes, does that count?
she thought, rolling the now empty glass in her hands. She knew she wasn't being fair to the new Slayers. They weren't all spoiled brats. Buffy was just jaded. And old, too old to still be a Slayer. "I'm twenty nine! I've been slaying since I was fifteen! Isn't that enough for you?" she snapped at the ceiling.

"So stop," a familiar voice spoke from behind her, a presence she'd sensed long ago. She'd been wondering when he'd speak.

"Not that simple," she answered tiredly.

I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare, we walked a million years
I must have died alone a long long time ago

"It could be," he sat beside her, taking her hand from the glass and taking it in both of his. She didn't even turn her head. She couldn't see out of the two swollen eyes.

"The End of Days isn't over. Armageddon was just the beginning," she whispered, tears falling painfully from the burning lids. "I can't stop. They can't handle it."

"Make them," he pleaded. "I can't stand seeing you like this."

"The stop following me."

Who knows, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

"I always liked this song," she mumbled aloud. Her companion didn't respond, simply helped her off of the bar stool. A few minutes later he turned to her.

"It's me."

"You're the Man Who Sold The World?"

"You know what I mean," she swiped at him a little, but she didn't mean it. "The person who should have died alone a long time ago? That's me."

"No it's not," he said quietly. "You're the person who should have given in and called me a long time ago. You shouldn't have to do anything alone."

"Look at this city," she said sadly as they reached the streets. "It's trashed. Everyone's fighting, and nobody's winning."

"'Strong is fighting, It's hard and it's painful and it's everyday, but it's what we have to do. And we can do it. Together,'" he quoted. "Ready to prove that?"

"Wanna just be weak instead?" she quipped, looking up at him. Dark chocolate eyes burned down at her and she couldn't refuse him anymore. She didn't know why she had. "Okay, 'Mr. Angel' I'll work for you. But I've got conditions..."

"Yeah?"

"I want to be vice president," she answered, laughing. He smiled and pulled her lips to his.

"Okay," he agreed.

"And I want vaction time. And the boss has to take it with me," Buffy continued as they walked down the street. "And clothes. I want clothes."

"Anything else, m'lady?" Angel tipped a mock hat and she laughed, kissing him passionately.

"Just you."

~END~

Disclaimer:
song by Nirvana. Just borrowing.
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