Author: C l a d d a u g h K i t t e n
Rating: PG-13 - Strongly leaning towards AA.
Summary: Freedom from Angel's POV.
He lurked, concealed in the woods behind her, idly stirring the ashes of a fledgling. Sometimes they just didn't turn out right.
This one hadn't listened. It had tried to chase her, and he had killed it.
Now he sat, watching, waiting. For what exactly, he did not know. And that was what bothered him the most. He felt edgy, as if all his nerves were on fire.
Perhaps it was just the full moon. But this time, something wasn't right.
She was up here, alone. No friends, no watcher, no nothing. Just a small book in her hand. She was watching the town below them, as if in a trance. She still bore the wounds from their last meeting. Obviously her Slayer healing capabilities had slowed.
Her once-golden hair, now a bright white, blew out softly behind her, rippling in the wind. He had heard a few stories as to how it had come to be that way. His fledlings told him that while he had been gone on "business", it just started to turn. First a few strands, then large sections, until eventually it became white as snow.
There were deep black circles under her eyes, marring her perfect features. Her cheekbones were hollow, the bones jutting out at odd angles. She looked awful. When he had gone to sign his name across her stomach, he had stared in shock. Her ribcage was clearly defined, her once well muscled stomach was now caved in, hollow.
And now she stood, a shadow of her former self, watcing the moon. He watched as she took off his cross and ring, setting them gently on the ground. She opened her diary, reading over the words.
Then she had stood. The wind was picking up again, beginning to howl. His eyes widened in shock as he saw her lift the gun to her head. For the first time in nearly two hundred years, his ribs heaved and shuddered as he drew a hitching breath. He had drven her to this. He listened, frozen like a deer in headlights, as her voice echoed through the woods, counting.
"One," She wouldn't...His mind raced, trying to think of something.
"Two," He started to move, racing through. Everything went in slow motion. Just as he broke into the clearing, he watched her tiny fingers clutch the trigger, and pull.
"Wait," he recognized himself speaking, drowned out in the thunder of the gunshot. She fell, sinking down to the ground. Her diary fell out of the other hand, beside the necklace.
He walked silently over to her. Reaching down, he bent to pick up the ring, touching the chain, careful not to grasp the cross. Even in death she looked radiant. The gun lay beside her, it's purpose fufilled.
Reaching down, he brushed the few white strands of hair away from her face. Stroking her cheek, he looked to the moon. It shone, brighter than before. The wind howled full force now, and the clouds were moving faster.
Slipping the necklace into his jacket, he took one last look, and turned to leave.
He could walk like a man, but he wasn't one, he had told her once. The few creatures moving soundlessly in the woods saw just how true it was as he moved away, with the lithe grace of a killer.
Continues - Freedom - Buffy's POV
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