Disclaimer: I own nothing – Joss does.
I. Children's Lessons
I want to scream but don't. I clench my jaw instead. I bite down hard. It's the first lesson Holtz ever taught me. Silence. There are creatures in this world that can hear a whimper from a mile off. I know better than to call his name, though it echoes ceaselessly in my mind. (In truth I cry out 'father!' in my thoughts though I know I am not his. I'm a demon's spawn. He has told me this.)
I choose my steps with care so they make no noise. I leave no trail behind me. It's been five days. Five days without rest, without food or drink. Five days since he left me alone, tied me to the tree to die. We have played this game before, he and I. Every time we do I am overwhelmed by an emotion I can't define. (Terror is its name. I know that now.)
I have to find him. I have to find Holtz! (my father!) I reach the top of the hill and glimpse a shadow fading into the wood. I catch a scent. It's him. I know it. I follow him into the darkness, my heart swelling with joy.
II. Daddy Dearest
The demon has no face, but I know him well. His cruelty marks him. I know his name, too – Angelus – but in my thoughts I call him something else. (I call him 'father' – but would never admit this to Holtz.) We fight for hours, days – or so it seems – from the pit of the valley to the mountain peak. The other beasts gather round to watch. They cheer for The Destroyer, but I don't know if they mean him or me. We are bathed in each other's blood, as well as our own. It smells the same to me and I try to ignore the truth of it. We fight on, relentlessly, and we both grow weary in time. But still I defeat him. I drive the stake into his heart. He looks surprised. (Though I still cannot make out his face.) He grasps my hand, the one gripping the stake, and with the other he takes me by the throat. He smiles when he whispers, "My son." He breaks my neck with one fluid motion a second before he crumbles to dust.
III. Father's Son
I stand over her, watching her sleep. Her breathing is slow and steady. Her brown hair falls in waves about her face, fanning out on the pillow beneath her. She looks so sweet, so innocent, and I was deceived. Gunn isn't here. She's all alone. And I have the taser in my hand.
I watch her sleep, and while I stand there a wave of anger washes over me. She chose the demon – the demon – over me. She betrayed me! (I betrayed her first, of course, but reason doesn't enter into it.) I want to hurt her like she hurt me. I lift the weapon. I touch it to her skin. Her brown eyes open wide in terror. Her body shakes and she screams. Fred screams, and somewhere in the shadows of my subconscious, I hear my father's laughter ring.
IV. Peace
They love my Jasmine – unconditionally – and so do I. (For a time, at least.) She brings them joy. She brings them peace. And me? She makes me a part of the world for a time. For a short time. Far too short a time. And then the peace I sought for so long is ripped away from me. And after the anger at my loss subsides I feel nothing. Nothing. Not peace. Not even hatred. Not really. I try to hate them, but it's all pretend. I dredge up the memory of hate and send it forth against them – against my father and his friends. I want to hate them, but I don't. I can't. I can't feel love or hatred now. I feel nothing. I am dead – just like my father. An empty shell. The shell will shatter – and when it does – I will be gone. And peace will be mine at last.
V. Love
My father raises the blade to cut my throat and put an end to my madness. I knew he would. That's why I came to this place. I'm a coward, too afraid to end my own life. And why is that? I'm not so sure. Could it be I cling to Holtz's teachings even now? (Suicide is a sin to his God.) Or perhaps I feel something after all, some small emotion – for him – for my father. Maybe I love him. Maybe I've always loved him. That could be why I hated him so much. For letting me go. For not protecting me from Holtz. I want to lay the blame for all that's happened to me and all that I've done at his feet. But in my heart I know it's a lie. I can not blame him for my choices. I made them – out of anger and ignorance and stupidity, perhaps – but all the same they were mine.
'I really do love you, Connor,' he says to me.
And I answer him with spite. 'So what are you gonna do about it?'
And in answer to my question I see all my suffering reflected in his eyes. Pain. Anger. Shame. And love – all the love I've ever wished for and more.
'Prove it.'
He brings the knife down, slashing my throat. And in that act of violence I know my father's love at last.
