All by Starla
Disclaimer: Joss owns the concept.
Distribution: sarcastic retort, anyone who asks.
Author's Notes: It's kinda... yeah.
Rating: PG
Feedback: Yes, please, please.

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I run, run, run, feeling something within me howling, screaming, crying, raging for just the chance, just the god-for-fucking-saken chance, to get free, and run, and laugh, and hunt as I've never allowed it to.

Often, I wonder if I'm human anymore. Often, I wonder if I ever was.

I feel the blood, pumping, pumping, spilling over my hands in thick waxen streams, feel the way the skin shrivels and rots, decays beneath my very touch.

I am hunter. I am monster.

Sometimes, I wonder, when there is time for such coherency, if the things I hunt - (stalk in the dead of night like little more than rats) - understand the thrill I take in their demise. I wonder, sometimes, if they understand anything at all. I wonder if they've ever been given that chance.

Do I give them that chance?

If you could feel it, screaming, screaming, inside of me, feel the way I'm not me, but them, and it, and all, then you'd know; you'd know that I wasn't what you thought. You'd know I wasn't to be trusted.

But you don't feel that, and so you when you choose to think about what I am, you choose not to think about what I'm not. You choose not to see that I'm no longer innocent, and that I no longer do this because it's my fucking destiny.

I do it because it's me. I do it because, I am all.

In the dead of night, when the world is silent, I am there. In the light, I wait, and I watch, and any moment, I can pounce.

I am the be-all-end-all, and when the world burns to the ground, I'll be screaming into the ashes.

I am all that; I am more. I am primal, I am fear, I am everything every monster wants to be.

I feel only the barest hint of my past - feel as though nothing came before (bloodbloodbloodblood) the hunt except hard black nothingness, a velvet sky of dreams that were never given time to form. I am nameless, hopeless. I am not people. I am not whimpering my way through a life of - (do I know what life is?) - family and friends - (do I know what love is?) - and a certain clarity of who I am really am. I have none of that, because I am no-one, and everything. I am nothing.

But once, I was Sally Malone. Once, I was Annette Studlian. Once, I was JaneErinTinaMaeveJenny. Once, I was Buffy Summers.

But in the end, I am nameless.

I am all.