Wow....I first want to apologize for being one of those people who read everyone's amazing stories but never seem to say how much I enjoy them. Sorry, I'll try to be better at feedback. I really enjoy everyone's writing. Please keep writing, it's wonderful. Secondly...thank you. Thank you for writing this story. It was great. I actually made the aww sound at the end. So thank you again. This was a great piece of fiction.
goolecaptain <goolecaptain@xxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
My last ever fic, goodbye and good luck everyone
Summary; Far in the future the Buffy gang finally rest in peace.
Inspired by my own fic `Where?' I felt I needed to take it a little
further.
Pairing; none, a work of emotion rather than sex
Warnings; a real weepy, character death but not how you think.
Timing; sixty years in the future
Disclaimer; these characters belong to Joss Whedon (genius!) and
Mutant Enemy productions, not me. This is purely a fic for fun,
nothing else.
Distribution; take what you like, the more the better.
Feedback; goolecaptain@xxxxxxxxxxx
The Last Scooby
Dawn smiled as the rays of the sun gently caressed her wrinkled skin.
In the distance she could hear the sound of her grandchildren
laughing as they played in her garden. Beyond that she could make out
her son and daughters an
d their
spouses chatting in the kitchen
whilst doing the washing up. She would go to join them in a moment.
But she felt so tired today. She decided to sit on the veranda chair
a little longer, watching the sunset. It was her favourite spot, a
ritual she practised every night.
She lent back into the chair, sinking into the cushions. But she
found she couldn't stop sinking, just kept going down and down, the
world darkening around her as she kept falling and falling, panic
rising in her chest as she plummeted. She suddenly felt very afraid,
small and alone.
Then there was a light in the darkness.
And a voice.
She knew the voice. It sounded different to the last time she had
heard it, weak and soft, straining slightly to be heard over the
gentle hum of the hospital equipment and the muted weeping of
children, young and old. It sounded young and strong now. But it was
unmistakable and spoke the same, single word that had been
it's
last,
ten long years ago.
"Dawn"
And she was there. Her sister. Buffy Summers, looking young and
healthy, sixteen again, as Dawn always thought of her, not the old
woman whose life support machine she had tearfully disconnected by
her own request. Not the seventy year old Buffy who was the first
Slayer in history to die with grace and dignity, lying in bed,
surrounded by her grandkids. Not the elderly matriarch whose hand
Dawn had clutched as she'd gently surrendered the wonderful,
tempestuous life she had clung to for so long.
She felt that hand grasping hers again, strong and affectionate. Her
own hand had lost it's aged look, it appeared tiny, her skin fresh
and unblemished as if she was a teenager again. A strand of Dawn's
hair brushed past her face, no longer grey but dark and lustrous once
more, just as it had been when she was a child.
She clutched her sister close, closer than she could ever imagine
p
ossible.
She sobbed "Oh Buffy, oh Buffy, oh my dear sweet Buffy!"
The hug was returned with perfect rapture. Dawn felt another set of
arms surround her. She looked up from Buffy's shoulder.
Mom.
Just as she had last seen her decades ago in her vision, beautiful
and glowing slightly, dressed all in white. Dawn tried to speak but
the words wouldn't come. Then Joyce smiled and she knew it wasn't
necessary to say anything.
"Dawnie" Hank Summers spoke as he joined the embrace.
"Daddy!"
Then suddenly they were all there. Angel, Giles, Xander, Spike. Her
husband Michael. Anya and Cordelia, Tara, Oz, Faith, Aunt Arlene,
Wesley, Amanda, Kennedy, Riley, Andrew, Jenny, even Miss Kitty, the
list stretched on and on, everyone she had ever loved and lost, all
around her. Somehow they could all embrace her simultaneously and she
could embrace them all back. She wept with joy, a mixture of utter
euphoria and perfect contentment filling e
very atom
of her being. Her
only wish was that this feeling would last forever.
And so it did.
*
She planted a soft kiss on her forehead, the last traces of warmth
slowly draining from Dawn's body. With her fingertips she gently
closed Dawn's eyes. Dawn looked so peaceful, finally at rest. She
would wait a few minutes before breaking the news to her family.
There would be plenty of time for the agony of grief later, the shock
tempered with the relief that Dawn had passed away with such serenity
and happiness. For now she would watch the sunset. And say her own
goodbyes'.
"Goodnight my lovely Dawnie, my precious little girl. Tell Buffy I
love her, tell them all. Tell them to wait for me. I'll be along in
time. We'll all be together then"
And she wept. She wept in happiness for the joy of Dawn's life and
the gentle release of her death. Wept because Dawn had died as she
should have, as all should, old and at peace. And she
wept
because
she was truly alone now, the last of the Scooby gang.
Willow Rosenberg, the white-haired, immortal Goddess, the Guardian
of the Slayer line, the little girl Buffy Summers had found in the
courtyard on her first day at Sunnydale High.
The last Scooby.
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Willow: "It's a good fight, Buffy, and I want in."
Buffy: "I kinda love you."
—'Choices'
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