TITLE: Until The End
AUTHOR: Ragna (writinggoddess@aol.com)
RATING: FRT; deals with nasty subjects.
CLASSIFICATION: Cordelia POV
SPOILERS: Set in the future, so season 4 spoilers, but sort of vaguely.
DISTRIBUTION: Any sites with my fic up; you all have unspoken permission. I write it, you can post it. Everyone else just keep my name on it and let me know.
DISCLAIMER: If you don't recognize it, chances are it's my own creation. If you do, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kazui Sandollar, FOX and the WB own it or them. I'm just holding Spike and Riley hostage. Carolyn's got Xander, May's got Oz, Cathryn's got Ethan, Melissa has Giles, Shelly has Angel, and Gillian has Doyle. You may see them by appointment only.
FEEDBACK: Sorry I'm not home right now I'm walking in the spiderwebs so leave a message and I'll call you back...in other words, I want it. Don't care if it's onlist or not.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm going through some harsh relationship problems right now. My friend, who's a Buffy fan, suggested I write a sequel to the story I wrote for her but forgot to dedicate (Sorry, Kerry!) so I could kill some more characters. My goal is to have it be left down to one person, and that's it. Now the question is...who?

***

I wondered why she'd killed herself. Willow...she was the quietest of us all, but she was the best, in my opinion.

Did she turn out different because of knowing? Were being able to face the things that went bump in the night the reason for her downfall?

No...it was probably Xander. I mean, she worshipped him. She fucking worshipped him! When he died...I can just imagine what happened. She wrote her will, then swallowed the pills, then the Everclear.

And then she died.

Anya was the next to go. Suicide, again. Slashed her wrists and sat in a bath, hoping for a quick death. Why didn't she lean on us? We were grieving too! We lost two friends; she just lost her lover.

She couldn't survive without Xander.

I didn't realize how much they had in common until they were gone. We were on the Concorde for Willow's funeral and back in Sunnydale two days later for Anya's. Willow stayed in London; Spike picked out the grave before moving there, to be near her. He's devastated, but he'll survive. He survived Dru, he survived everything else...he'll be fine.

And everyone thought I'd be fine, too. But losing Doyle, and then losing Xander and Willow and Anya...it was too much to take.

I've changed. If only Angel saw me now. But of course, he doesn't. He can't find me. LA's a big city, and if you want to hide, you can.

And I just wanted to disappear.

So I took to walking around the streets, trying to loose myself in the cheap alcohol I could afford. Didn't work. Tried some drugs and I just got sick. Didn't work.

I just want it over and done with.

The mugger makes a grab at my purse. I can't put up a fight...I don't have the strength...the knife goes into my side, into vital organs, I can feel my life slipping away as I fall to the sidewalk...Cordy Chase, washed up has been...

And I see a white light, and I see Doyle. Once more, I can be with him.

Too bad it had to be with our deaths.