Silence
Author's Note: I know I'm normally a die-hard Spiffy 'shipper, but this time, I thought I'd try something a little bit different than my usual "Spike and Buffy fall madly in love and live happily ever after" routine... yeah.
I used to smile more. I remember, there was a time when I was a happy, carefree child, whose only worries were fashion and who I was dating at the moment. I used to laugh. If you had told me six years ago that when I was twenty-one I would no longer have a reason for laughing, I would've scoffed at you and turned away.
I used to be happy.
Ever since that fucking man in tweed approached me on the steps of Hemery High School in Los Angeles, I have felt pain. All the men I've ever loved have left me. First my dad, then Angel, then Riley, and finally Giles. If people die in this town, it's usually my fault. My fault, because I wasn't fast enough or strong enough.
Last spring, when I threw myself off that tower, I died. For the second time. I still have the scar from the first time, when the Master drained me just enough to make me pass out in a pool of stagnant water. One of my friends brought me back. That I can forgive. But my so-called friends brought me back from the dead after allowing me some sense of peace for so long, and I can never forgive that.
I was fucking a demon for awhile. I may have let him cum in me, I may have let him be on top, but I was always in control. And I got some sense of fulfillment out of it, but the real reason why I kept coming back was because it was wrong. I finally stopped, but it's like I became addicted and was suddenly going through withdrawal. That's some scary shit right there. I, the Chosen One, addicted to screwing my neutered mortal enemy. Then came the wedding that wasn't, and we had an awkward post-breakup moment. Strange. We never really dated. We just fucked.
I guess you could say that the darkness has always drawn me in. Demons are amazing in bed. A vampire was my first, and he ruined me for normal, average, warm-blooded human men. Nothing compares to a cool, hard body pressed tightly against my own, muscular hips flying against mine, a cold cock pistoning inside me. It makes me cum hard every time. Before I stopped, he used to try to slow things down, to gentle his touch. I never let him, never wanted to admit that it might have been more than just sex, because it had never felt so good. God, am I fucked up.
He says he's in love with me.
Bullshit.
He says he'd die for me. I told him to prove it. Had to avert my eyes quickly so I wouldn't see that I had just taken another chunk out of his cold, unbeating heart. Because somewhere, deep down, I know that every time I hurt him, the pain seems to bounce back to me. It's killing me.
I'm back at the tower. He stopped me the last time. He's not here, though. I'm perched at the top, my legs dangling through the hole that my fake sister's blood dripped through, contemplating life. And death. I wonder if they'd leave me dead if I jumped.
My best friend is grieving. Her lover was killed a few nights ago. Her grieving is more destructive and beautiful than anything I've ever seen. I realize somewhere in my subconscious that she needs to be stopped. I just don't know if I can do it on my own.
My demon ex-lover would know what to do. I'm not sure which one I'm talking about. Maybe both.
He said I came back wrong.
I hope they'll leave me alone this time, hope they'll make sure I can't come back wrong ever again... I shift slightly, then let go. And suddenly I'm flying through the air, falling down and down and down until...
Silence.