Silence. It's almost unbearable, but it's calm, so I don't mind. I'm looking around the room, waiting for something to pop out at me, waiting to see what I want to have. Dawnie doesn't say much, but she said we could all go through the house, see what we needed of Buffy's. Tara had comforted her, asking her why she didn't go first. She said Dawnie should have first pick of what she wanted. Dawn just looked at her.
"I have my life," she said." That's what Buffy gave me, and that's all I need." My heart broke again then, because she seemed so...empty. But I guess we're all pretty empty. Anya hasn't actually spoken for days. Not to us, anyway. Maybe she spoke to Xander, some time when the two were alone, but she hasn't sid anything to us. That's okay. I don't really feel like talking.
I look around the room, but I don't see much. I'm in her bedroom, now. There's the picture of Dawn and Buffy that Dawn gave her for her last birthday. There's...I want that. The cross. The large silver cross that Angel gave Buffy when they first met. It's hanging on a little rack, along with a few other necklaces, but I like this one best. Buffy kept it. I pick it up and let it dance in my fingers. There's not dust on it, which means she's touched it often, cleaned it, cared for it. I know why. She couldn't let go. Not of her past, not of her duty, not of Angel.
A few books I lent her are stacked beside the night stand, and I pick them up as well. Finally, I make one more sweep around the room, and decide that I've got enough. I remember how important to me she was, and I don't want to leave.
I feel like I can't breathe, Will. I can't breathe either. It's like all the oxygen is sucked out of my lungs and I don't know how to put it back in. There's a yucky taste in my mouth, and I know that there's no one like Buffy in the world, and it hurts. It hurts a lot. I feel like somehow, I let her down, and I didn't do something that I should have done, and I didn't tell her how important she was to me when I really should have and now she's gone and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. And it hurts.
This was when I quit, Will. Buffy putting away the book on the shelf. I drop the books I'm holding, shocked at the memory. It isn't even a real memory. Well, it is and it isn't. It was in Buffy's head, but so was I... Did she really quit? Is that why I lost my best friend? Because she quit?
I wanted it over. I did too, Buffy. But not like this. Not with us, here, crying over you, feeling this empty vacumm feeling can't get air in and I just want it over! I don't want to feel this way anymore! I don't want the pain, the loss. The failure.
I love you, Will. I love you too, Buffy. With all my heart.
