The Fallen Slayer {1}

Intervention

Knowing there was no wake given her mother's distaste for them, Buffy watched and waited until every single soul had left. One by one, each soul who had attended the funeral climbed into their cars.

Her mother's grave was finally alone.

Stepping out of the shadows, Buffy slowly approached the grave her eyes landing on the marble headstone.

Forcing herself not to sob, Buffy lowered herself to her knees, her jeans falling into the freshly poured dirt. Pushing her beanie from her head, Buffy shook out her hair before reaching out.
Just as her shaky fingers touched the stone, a small silent sob escaped her. She didn't want to cry.

She didn't deserve to cry.

Wiping away any tears before they could fall Buffy inhaled tightly, summing her strength. She knew it was her turn to say goodbye.

"I am so sorry." She whispered, her index finger softly hovering over the J inscribed on the stone "I am sorry you found out about me that way, I am sorry that our last conversation was screaming at each other... I'm sorry that I was a stressful daughter for the past three years. If..." She crocked, her voice cracking as she imagined all of the what-if scenarios "I wish... I wish Xander had never saved me when I died last year. If he hadn't maybe our fight wouldn't have caused you so much stress that it..."

She couldn't even finish her sentence as the crunch of leaves approaching caused her to panic. In a wave of panic, Buffy rushed into motion. Throwing her beanie back on she stood up and took off in the other direction of the footsteps.

"Buffy? Is that you?"


Jeremy.

Spinning back to her reality, Buffy forced her gaze away from the photo of her mother which had stirred yet another memory. 

She hadn't even been at her own mother's funeral, she had been watching from the sidelines, hidden away from the family that had been searching for her.

Shaking her head trying to ignore the heavy heartache in her chest, Buffy ran her hands through her hair pulling and tugging at the ends before staring at herself in the mirror.

She looked sick and half dead.

Her eyes were blood red, with dark bags underneath her lids. 

These visions were really cutting into her sleeping hours. 

Spotting the fresh blood dripping from her nose, Buffy panicked before quickly grabbing the tissues off the vanity.

Cleaning herself up, Buffy made sure her face was blood-free before she moved to grab her eye drops. She wanted to avoid her family getting concerned about her, so cleaning up blood and hiding her baggy eyes had become a full morning routine. 

It was getting worse. 

Any small thing was beginning to trigger the flashes now. 

A small comment, a photo, or even a smell sent her into a catatonic state of pain.

These visions were growing more consistent and with each one, she could feel herself growing weaker and weaker.

Buffy knew that she was running out of time, she wouldn't be able to hide this forever.

It was only a matter of time before she couldn't hide it anymore.

Or getting her memories back killed her.