A 'Villains' coda.  Spoils the end of the sixth season.

DEAD FEELS LIKE   by Jayne Leitch
C. 2002

So this is what dead feels like.  It's...not.

Not like Tara.  Or Buffy.  Because I'm still alive, still breathing (I don't have to anymore,
not if I don't want to), walking, talking, blood still pumping in my veins, and not even an
axe to the spine can stop me now.

Because I'm *strong* now that I'm dead.  Now that I'm empty and black and with so
much power.

So much power, it scares everyone who isn't me.  "Anyone with intuition", Rack said (I
heard him say it, I can hear anything I want to, it's just another sensation of power), and
you know, I'd almost forgotten about him.  File him away for later, because as I said, I'm
not coming back this time.

"Anyone with intuition."  Anya knew, but then Anya's a demon again.  Giles knows--nice
psychic backlash firing his nerves from all the dark mojo he played with at my age,
through his and Ethan's and Drusilla's and so, so many others, and I can name them all
because I can feel them, too--and he'll be back in town within hours.

Buffy (through her nerves, too, Slayer-nerves are made of intuition) will be glad.  She's
missed him.  They'll hug, and then they'll try to stop me.

They won't be able to stop me.  Planes only go so fast, after all, and by the time Giles gets
here, the worst of it will be done.  That's probably better; better to do it all myself, so they
don't have to.

They're not as strong as I am, after all.  No one is.

All thanks to Warren, and he felt my gratitude before he died.  I made him feel it, and I'll
make the others feel it, and then...

And then there will be nothing left, and I can...stop feeling anything.  And just be dead.

Like Tara.  With Tara.

Or maybe not.

End.

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