They beg. And scream. Cry and shout. Desperation and anger as they see visions of their life flash before their eyes. They tell stories in hopes that I will listen.

"Be rational!"

"You monster!"

"I won't call the police I swear!"

These are stories I hear often. Sometimes, when I embrace it, I'll laugh at them and their futile efforts. Other times, I'll feel cold and alone. Watching them leave this world as fast as they were born into it. It sickens me. Disgusts me that I can't join them. Alas, I'm unworthy. But sometimes I wish they would shut up. They always make so much noise.

No matter what I do, they'll always remind me of what I do. Why I'm here and how I became this way. Most of the time I can block it out, but it's when the memories return, that when I can no longer stand myself. I remember those who have done me wrong, and the reasons for my current existence. I then find myself recoiling in pure revulsion.

Dawn.

Xander.

Willow.

These names have no meaning to me anymore. But it's when I relive my last moments with them that I redefine self-loathing. Even though it gives me no justification for my actions, I'm not completely alone when fingers are pointing. They helped. Just like old times huh?

There are the days when I think about the people who could've helped me, at least with them I knew happiness. A watcher. My other half, a rogue slayer. And of course, two ensouled vampires who loved me regardless.

All. Were taken. From me.

By them.

They said they were my friends. That I could trust them. But they lied. And showed me their true intentions. They didn't really respect me, only my abilities, my strength. When I could no longer perform such acts for them, they turned away and resulted to magic. To fix me. What waste. Idiots! I have never been fueled by such hatred as I have by them. The ones who claimed to be on my side! What am I living for! The deaths of others just like them! Just like her...

"What are you doing here?"

Willow stepped forward timidly, wary of the dark aura that surrounded the slayer. She held up her hands defensively, "I just wanted to help. I-"

"HELP?!" I screamed. "Help?! Who exactly do you think you're talking to?!" I stepped forward with menace. Willow backed away, but continued to keep her stance. "You, Buffy. I know that you must feel very angry to see me again, but I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. How sorry I am that it ended up this way."

Willow looked up to my face, her expression remorseful. No.

"So you're sorry that you didn't have control over the entire situation? You wanted it to end up your way, is that it?" I can guarantee that my eyes were blood red slits by this point.

The witch's eyes widened, she started making flailing hand gestures while trying to come up with some excuse. "No! That's not what I meant! I just wanted to apologize for what I did."

My face contorted in repugnance for the woman before me. "You are in a sad position to be asking for my exoneration." I pointed my finger at Willow, startling her out of her own self pity.

"I'm forced to be here alone with no one who understands me. I'm going to roam this world and the next for all of eternity, while you get to die like all others. You can leave and finally rest. While you, and the rest find peace I will be here still! All because you made me that way!" I inched closer, "And that's the one reason I can't and won't forgive you."

Willow stiffened, as I neared her. Lifting up a bloody hand, I latched onto her hair and dragged her over to the balcony that overlooked the city. Leaning her over the edge, I whispered into her ear. "I'm so tired, can't I rest? Guess I'm not allowed to...right?" She quivered, and I pushed her over.

So..here I am. Sometimes, I feel so weary that I can almost feel it eating at my brain. Some days I revel in it, and other days it is excruciating. Worse than any physical poison ever conceived. I can only pass judgement on others that are just as ugly as I am on the inside. I hate blood; even more when it's me that spills it from every orifice. I detest blood, It's just as revolting as piss and sweat to me. But it fills the void while ironically making it larger every time. I hate the bloodshed. But it's the only thing I have left. Making it the only thing I'm allowed to enjoy.

I wonder if I'll continue on like this forever. The pain is just too real, but I refuse let it define me as a person. I can't. It's true, even as a slayer I was never a good person. Of course, that's the catch though. There are no real good people in the world. Just, the ones who have the right set of mind. No one really cares about anyone, only about how it makes them feel when they believe they did a good deed. It all revolves around self-satisfaction.

The same goes for me. I feel so broken. I just want someone to come and fix me. With all of the noises the world makes, all I want is silence. I'd want to erase my mind, but that would be selfish on my part. Maybe I want the show to end, cause I'm going to die from the inside out if it goes on like this.

There are times I stare down at my soaked hands, and I realize the one thing that always seemed to plague Buffy Summers. Slayers.

I'm not happy. And perhaps I never will be.