DYING FELT GOOD
A Slayer's nightmare. I don't own, so please comment nicely!
"I've spent my whole life doing things I didn't want to do for weak, selfish people who didn't even know I existed."
Buffy Summers had snapped. Instead of slaying vampires, she began stalking anyone who looked at her funny on the street. Mostly they were older men, men who reminded her of her father. She killed and killed and killed, feeling nothing.
The Watcher's Council couldn't stop her. Buffy had too much blackmail information on them. Mostly it was videos her friend Xander had taken of booze and coke-fueled orgies where Watchers dressed as druid priests forced nubile Slayers to pleasure them while dressed as ballerinas. Xander only shot the films for his own amusement but Buffy later tortured him into giving them up. Then she killed him.
Buffy was a rogue slayer, but she operated very differently from her old friend Faith. Unlike Faith, Buffy had no interest in partnering with demons or other evil entities. She just didn't care enough to bother. Ultimately the minions of the Hellmouth came forth and destroyed Sunnydale anyway, whooping like cowboys at the end of a cattle drive.
Buffy fought back by drinking bottle after bottle of cough syrup, tuning out the screams of the innocent. Her last memory was of catching Angel in bed with Darla. It didn't hurt or anything. Dying felt good. Remembering didn't matter.
Blackness was closing in.
The last empty cough syrup bottle fell from her fingers.