She’s lost everyone, first Cordelia, then her mother, then her father, and then Lorne. She lost her family, and this was her chance to change it, to make it better. But she doesn’t even know if she can do that, if she can bring herself to put her parents in the position where they’ll have to watch their child die.
She just doesn’t want anyone to h u r t anymore.
”Yes. But you’re dead. So is Wesley. And my mother. And Lorne.”
Eyes widening, she abruptly retracts her hand as if Charlie’s skin was set aflame.
No. No, that can’t be right. She shouldn’t– - how could she be dead within twenty years? Her, and Wesley, and Lorne? It’s just too much for her to absorb all at once. A girl who’s from the future, who’s Wesley’s kid? That’s a whole new level of weird, but she could deal with it.
But her own death? She isn’t ready to know about that. She doesn’t want to know about that. She doesn’t want to live the rest of her life wondering:
’Will it be today? How much longer until I die?’
But now she just might.
She takes one, two, three steps back, as if distancing herself from Charlie could erase what she’d just learned.
“No. Don’t– - I’m not dead! Why did you come in here, if all you’re going to do is tell me that my friends and I are going to die?”
