Church Thoughts
by Freya
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Even though I wish I owned them, at least
Faith LOL, Joss Whedon & Co. are the guys who really own them.
Spoilers: A lot for season five.
Author's Notes: Yesterday evening I listened to "It's been a
while" and that song pumped blood into my brain. And even though there isn't much
left of the original version you'll recognize one similarity with the lyrics of the song
(if you know them).
Feedback: I'm waiting!
The organ sounds hollow through the church.
Muffled and hollow.
I smile a bit as I listen to the music, momentarily
closing my eyes.
Somehow those sounds have a calming effect on me.
But aren't they supposed to?
Aren't they supposed to try to sooth people and let
them fall into some strange kind of trance,
helping them to flee from reality?
Nobody would probably come to a service if they had to
sing along with drums or guitars.
Organs were chosen for a reason.
Everything is chosen for a reason.
What makes my thoughts wander a totally other path than just moments before.
Everything is chosen for a reason.
Everyone is chosen for a reason.
In every generation there is a Chosen One.
One.
Now there are two.
But why was I called?
Of course I know why.
Buffy died.
Kendra was called.
Kendra died.
I was called.
But Buffy died again.
A second time.
Why wasn't there another slayer but the first time she
died?
Why was I called?
Is there also a reason for that?
I don't know.
All I know is that I'm a damn lucky girl and that I
owe the Powers That Be a lot.
Without them I would have never come to Sunnydale.
I would have never met B.
Buffy.
The Chosen One.
My Chosen One.
I open my eyes again to see her standing at the same
place like before, her feet haven't moved more than a
centimetre.
With her hands folded, her head slightly bend and her
blonde hair framing her face she looks almost like an
angel.
The candles on each side of the altar light her face
in a golden shade, making her eyes glister as the
light meets her tears.
So sad to see her cry.
She shouldn't have to cry.
She is too beautiful for pain and grieve.
But that's what our lives are about.
Pain.
Physical as well as psychic.
Physical pain from fighting vampires and demons.
Pain that never lasts long, thanks to Slayer healing.
The real pain that makes you heart bleed is the
psychic pain.
Caused by too many decisions, too many situations, too
many confrontations that are just too hard to deal
with.
Pain that destroys her innocent soul bit by bit.
Buffy deserves better than that.
She deserves a life with school problems, friends that
care about her, a loving family and all that "normal"
stuff.
But no.
She was called.
Called to slay.
To protect the world and mankind, if necessary with
her own life.
And now they took her mother from her.
No, wrong choice of words.
They didn't take her.
She just died.
Died as if this wasn't the Hellmouth, where people are
drained to death and then buried with two deep holes
in their throats.
These thoughts make me sick and the need to take her
into my arms is almost too much to stand.
And I guess this time I'd almost done it.
I'd almost walked over to her if her little sister
hadn't shown up.
Her young voice echoes through the church, almost as hollow as the organ, as she asks Buffy if she is alright.
Her answer is like a knife in my heart, as if my
ex-fellow slayer had missed the lower region all those
years ago.
"Yeah, five by five."
A smile crosses her face as she pats Dawn's dark hair,
and the candles grow white with envy.
Her sister shakes her head.
"Really, sometimes I wonder where you pick up all
those weird phrases."
With that she turns to leave and Buffy follows her.
But before she's out of the door she turns around once
again.
And then her eyes meet mine.
As if she could see me here, in the darkness.
She can't, can she?
Is our bond strong enough for her to feel my presence?
Softly she whispers.
"I love you."
Just loud enough for me to hear her.
And then she's gone.
Leaving me still standing in the dark corner.
And I'm unable to say who she was talking to.
Her mother ... or me.