Well, first story I'll have written in a while. Might be a bit rusty, besides, it's 1:00 in the morning in Vancouver. Anyways, just R&R. Flames welcome, honestly don't care. Make it constructive, though. None of the: "ooh, this sux...grrr" bull shit. Anyways, you know the drill. Don't own jackshit. Read on.
89868986898689868986898689868986
I sit silently, my stolen CD player blaring the burned CD; Marilyn Manson, Pantera and such. I'm being ignored, as always. This is a white collared affair, and I'm here in my jeans and leather jacket.
In Buffy's apartment.
I've always known that since the first day, the first day I made myself present in Sunnydale, Buffy has hated me. I'm not stupid, despite what they think. I did drop out of school, but I'm not an idiot.
I only dropped out of school 'cause everyone hated me.
I only joined the mayor 'cause everyone hated me.
I only stole Buffy's body 'cause I hated myself.
Nobody noticed. It was like it was physically impossible for them to notice. Like it would hurt them if they saved me, helped me.
I didn't want to become this. Sometimes I wish I was back at home, before my mother died, before she started hitting me, throwing shit at me, screaming at me. Before she hated me.
Before I was born.
Before I met Kakistos.
His name still burns my ears, hurts my head. I feel a twinge in my heart whenever I think about him. About what he did.
My gut twinges whenever I think about when Buffy stabbed me.
I only wanted redemption, someone that understood.
That's all; someone that understood. It was supposed to be Buffy, but of course it wasn't. She only led to more pain, more hatred. More anguish.
I thought jail would help.
It's supposed to help.
It couldn't. All that kept me sane in the beginning was Angel's weekly visits. Slowly they'd change into monthly occasions, and then he just stopped coming.
It hurt. It hurt a lot.
But I still had to stay alive. What if he came back?
What if he came back and I was gone, I was dead? What if Buffy came to tell me that she forgave me? What if Xander came to tell me that he no longer hated me?
What if Wesley came?
God, that was so hard when he did come. I knew there was a reason. He wouldn't come for a chat.
There was a higher chance of Queen C doing that, and there was more chance in my heartache to just disappear one day then Queen C coming for a visit.
There was no chance of me ever feeling completely happy again.
Anything I did, everything I would do, was plagued by what I had done.
But I helped Angel, and it felt good.
I was still depressed though. And scared.
So bloody scared, especially when me and Red came back from the Hotel.
She was cool about having to spend time in a car with a psycho, murderous slayer. She saw me shaking, and she saw me remembering.
Saw me blinking back tears.
Saw me dent the dashboard with my foot, hating everything about me.
I asked her where I screwed up. Where there was no chance of the Scoobies ever excepting me again.
"It was different for all of us." She had replied calmly. "For me; when you slept with Xander. For him it was when you almost killed him. Hard to say with Buffy. I don't think she ever trusted you to begin with."
That had stung. She knew it did, and she had every right to have said it.
Then the girl came tumbling out of the truck, and I knew I was back in Sunnyhell.
I was so scared.
I wanted to cry, and scream, and run to Angel, telling him I wasn't ready, that I needed to go back to Jail.
But I couldn't.
So here I am now. In this corner of this room, surrounded by people who I hardly know. I've been living here with Buffy, Dawn and Andrew since Robin got crushed when he crashed into an eighteen wheeler.
And I hate it here.
I want to be back with Wood.
I want to be back in Jail.
I want to be gone. Anywhere but here.
Because it hurts so much. It burns inside, scorching my heart.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and Andrew walks over. Asks me if I'm alright.
'Push him away,' I think, 'Stand up and push him away. Go into the bathroom, cry there.'
So I stand. My headphones fall off, and more tears drop.
God, I hate it here.
I run past him, accidently hitting him with my shoulder.
Blindly stumbling to sanctuary, my haven.
I close the door and back up until I hit the wall.
I hate it here.
Sitting on the ground crying wasn't my plan for the future.
Neither was falling in love with Robin, or going to jail, or killing Finch.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to have found Buffy and been accepted into her group, into her life.
Never happens like it's supposed to, huh?
I hate this place. This world.
It's alright though, it hates me back.
So does everyone in it.
At least they should.
A knock on the door doesn't surprise me, only jolts me from my thoughts. The door opens a bit, and Dawn looks in.
"What are you doing?" She asks.
Dawn has always been naïve.
She was wary to the ones she didn't trust, and completely open to the ones she did.
So when she doesn't know how she feels she gets confused. I look at her and turn my head, closing my eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
She knows why. She's not an idiot, just a kid.
Same age I was when Kakistos killed my watcher.
Just a kid.
"It'll stop hurting."
I look at her, interested.
"One day you'll stop hurting."
What does she know?
She's just a kid.
But I want to believe her. I want to think that I'll have a happy ending.
I know I won't.
But I want to.
So she sits beside me, and offers me a shoulder to cry on.
So I take it.
89868986898689868986898689868986
I sit silently, my stolen CD player blaring the burned CD; Marilyn Manson, Pantera and such. I'm being ignored, as always. This is a white collared affair, and I'm here in my jeans and leather jacket.
In Buffy's apartment.
I've always known that since the first day, the first day I made myself present in Sunnydale, Buffy has hated me. I'm not stupid, despite what they think. I did drop out of school, but I'm not an idiot.
I only dropped out of school 'cause everyone hated me.
I only joined the mayor 'cause everyone hated me.
I only stole Buffy's body 'cause I hated myself.
Nobody noticed. It was like it was physically impossible for them to notice. Like it would hurt them if they saved me, helped me.
I didn't want to become this. Sometimes I wish I was back at home, before my mother died, before she started hitting me, throwing shit at me, screaming at me. Before she hated me.
Before I was born.
Before I met Kakistos.
His name still burns my ears, hurts my head. I feel a twinge in my heart whenever I think about him. About what he did.
My gut twinges whenever I think about when Buffy stabbed me.
I only wanted redemption, someone that understood.
That's all; someone that understood. It was supposed to be Buffy, but of course it wasn't. She only led to more pain, more hatred. More anguish.
I thought jail would help.
It's supposed to help.
It couldn't. All that kept me sane in the beginning was Angel's weekly visits. Slowly they'd change into monthly occasions, and then he just stopped coming.
It hurt. It hurt a lot.
But I still had to stay alive. What if he came back?
What if he came back and I was gone, I was dead? What if Buffy came to tell me that she forgave me? What if Xander came to tell me that he no longer hated me?
What if Wesley came?
God, that was so hard when he did come. I knew there was a reason. He wouldn't come for a chat.
There was a higher chance of Queen C doing that, and there was more chance in my heartache to just disappear one day then Queen C coming for a visit.
There was no chance of me ever feeling completely happy again.
Anything I did, everything I would do, was plagued by what I had done.
But I helped Angel, and it felt good.
I was still depressed though. And scared.
So bloody scared, especially when me and Red came back from the Hotel.
She was cool about having to spend time in a car with a psycho, murderous slayer. She saw me shaking, and she saw me remembering.
Saw me blinking back tears.
Saw me dent the dashboard with my foot, hating everything about me.
I asked her where I screwed up. Where there was no chance of the Scoobies ever excepting me again.
"It was different for all of us." She had replied calmly. "For me; when you slept with Xander. For him it was when you almost killed him. Hard to say with Buffy. I don't think she ever trusted you to begin with."
That had stung. She knew it did, and she had every right to have said it.
Then the girl came tumbling out of the truck, and I knew I was back in Sunnyhell.
I was so scared.
I wanted to cry, and scream, and run to Angel, telling him I wasn't ready, that I needed to go back to Jail.
But I couldn't.
So here I am now. In this corner of this room, surrounded by people who I hardly know. I've been living here with Buffy, Dawn and Andrew since Robin got crushed when he crashed into an eighteen wheeler.
And I hate it here.
I want to be back with Wood.
I want to be back in Jail.
I want to be gone. Anywhere but here.
Because it hurts so much. It burns inside, scorching my heart.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and Andrew walks over. Asks me if I'm alright.
'Push him away,' I think, 'Stand up and push him away. Go into the bathroom, cry there.'
So I stand. My headphones fall off, and more tears drop.
God, I hate it here.
I run past him, accidently hitting him with my shoulder.
Blindly stumbling to sanctuary, my haven.
I close the door and back up until I hit the wall.
I hate it here.
Sitting on the ground crying wasn't my plan for the future.
Neither was falling in love with Robin, or going to jail, or killing Finch.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to have found Buffy and been accepted into her group, into her life.
Never happens like it's supposed to, huh?
I hate this place. This world.
It's alright though, it hates me back.
So does everyone in it.
At least they should.
A knock on the door doesn't surprise me, only jolts me from my thoughts. The door opens a bit, and Dawn looks in.
"What are you doing?" She asks.
Dawn has always been naïve.
She was wary to the ones she didn't trust, and completely open to the ones she did.
So when she doesn't know how she feels she gets confused. I look at her and turn my head, closing my eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
She knows why. She's not an idiot, just a kid.
Same age I was when Kakistos killed my watcher.
Just a kid.
"It'll stop hurting."
I look at her, interested.
"One day you'll stop hurting."
What does she know?
She's just a kid.
But I want to believe her. I want to think that I'll have a happy ending.
I know I won't.
But I want to.
So she sits beside me, and offers me a shoulder to cry on.
So I take it.