I have no idea how long I stood there, leaning against the blasted tree, smoking a cigarette. After cigarette. After cigarette. With all this shit I have in my body from one hundred plus years of smoking, I'd probably be long dead by now. If I wasn't already dead. Damn. Where is she? I fidgeted and glanced at my watch. Damn. I haven't seen her face in exactly...two minutes and 15 seconds...16 seconds...17 seconds...18 seconds...Damn. Where is she? Is she in trouble? Should I go help her? I-I mean the girl did let me live even if I did try to keill her...O wait. There she is. I see her. My heart involuntarily swelled. That's strange. My heart hasn't beaten in practically in decades and now its swelling.
Yeah, yeah. I know. You're probably wondering, "What the hell is William the Bloody doing outside the slayer's house without one evil intention in his mind? Why is he watching her, admiring her sun-kissed hair, her beautiful face...?" Well, I'm not. I'm not. I just woke up and I thought I'd take a lovely walk under the moonlight. (When else can I take one? During the day?) And I did walk, thinking about the Slayer (I assure you, my thoughts were completely platonic) and I was suddenly looking into her windows, hoping to glimpse her exquisite face. That was a few minutes ago...or a few hours. I lost track.
I wonder what she is wondering as she walks from room to room, what is she feeling, what is she thinking...Probably about that Riley, the G.I. Joe wannabe farmboy. Not that I care. I've just been really... well... my dislike of him has changed to loathing these past weeks. He doesn't deserve her. He's just another poof. He has nothing I don't have or even want... except maybe her... What the bloody hell was I thinking?
I dropped my twenty-something cigarette on the perfect manicured grass...perfect like Buffy... What the hell. Only a
few months ago, I was sure I hated no one as much as I hate her...and now I was comparing her to grass. I was becoming a
poof. She must have cast some spell on me. That's the only reasonable reason as to why my heart swells and tightens in my
chest when I see her; as to why my knees shake when she touches me, even if it is to punch me. As to why I feel like dying
whenever I see her and Riley together; touching, embracing, kissing... wondering why it wasn't me. It had to be a spell. Right.
Some little spell to weaken me. Just a spell. Nothing but a spell. Right. Nothing but a spell.
Yeah, yeah. I know. You're probably wondering, "What the hell is William the Bloody doing outside the slayer's house without one evil intention in his mind? Why is he watching her, admiring her sun-kissed hair, her beautiful face...?" Well, I'm not. I'm not. I just woke up and I thought I'd take a lovely walk under the moonlight. (When else can I take one? During the day?) And I did walk, thinking about the Slayer (I assure you, my thoughts were completely platonic) and I was suddenly looking into her windows, hoping to glimpse her exquisite face. That was a few minutes ago...or a few hours. I lost track.
I wonder what she is wondering as she walks from room to room, what is she feeling, what is she thinking...Probably about that Riley, the G.I. Joe wannabe farmboy. Not that I care. I've just been really... well... my dislike of him has changed to loathing these past weeks. He doesn't deserve her. He's just another poof. He has nothing I don't have or even want... except maybe her... What the bloody hell was I thinking?
I dropped my twenty-something cigarette on the perfect manicured grass...perfect like Buffy... What the hell. Only a
few months ago, I was sure I hated no one as much as I hate her...and now I was comparing her to grass. I was becoming a
poof. She must have cast some spell on me. That's the only reasonable reason as to why my heart swells and tightens in my
chest when I see her; as to why my knees shake when she touches me, even if it is to punch me. As to why I feel like dying
whenever I see her and Riley together; touching, embracing, kissing... wondering why it wasn't me. It had to be a spell. Right.
Some little spell to weaken me. Just a spell. Nothing but a spell. Right. Nothing but a spell.