A Nice Attempt At Making Him Jealous
The room is noticeably spinning as I get up from my stool to cross to the dance floor. A long day of killing vamps followed by a hard night of drinking is making the walk take longer than I'd expected as I keep knocking into various stools, people, and walls that are getting in my way. It feels weird to be so out of control of my body. After years of practise and perfecting every movement, years of being constantly alert to the slightest change in my surroundings and ready to attack at any moment I now stumble and fall like a drunk in the street. If a vampire attacked me now I wouldn't stand a chance and if Giles could see me now he'd have a fit. Good job he's nowhere near then. He's off training the new girls who need him. Why does no one ever think that I might need them? Or is it just that my needs are considered less important? Either way it majorly sucks.
I reach the centre of the dance floor, finally, and start to sway alone to the music. I know it won't be long until someone starts to dance with me. I'm dressed to impress tonight- tight black halter neck and a short red skirt teamed with some killer boots that makes me feel like a million dollars. I need something to make me feel good about myself tonight after the day I've had. Just when I thought that maybe, in some way, I was getting better, just when I managed to go a few hours without that stabbing pain in my chest that means I'm thinking about him Angel calls. Bloody Angel. Calling up to "check in" and give me all the info on what's going down in L.A. He told me about all the things they'd done. To hear his name casually dropped into conversation without a second thought, to hear all the normal things they're doing together, to hear that he can manage to make it from day to day without breaking down breaks my heart. If this separation isn't bothering him then he must be totally over me. I used to be able to console myself that maybe he wasn't able to get here or that maybe he hadn't been in touch because he was worried I would reject him and so was staying there, thinking of me every day and missing me but these updates from Angel sure put those thoughts out of my head.
I heard him in the background today, talking to some girl called Fred. Bitch. I mean, really, what girl is called Fred? Stupid name for a stupid name for a stupid bitch. I heard him laughing with her and it felt like someone had pulled the ground from under me. I went into free fall. I couldn't catch my breath and I felt as if my legs would give way. I wanted to scream, to hang up and curl up into a ball and cry but instead I breathe deeply and listen to Angel yapping. He's asking about me, about my life and I can tell that he's trying to suss out if anything is going to happen between us. He's still waiting for me to announce- "yay I'm cookies now!" and run off to live happily ever after. Maybe I should tell Angel the truth, tell him that I was cookies long ago but I kept myself warm for someone else- someone who left me in the oven for too long so now I'm all burnt and no one is going to eat me ever. Maybe I should tell Angel that I lied when I said 'he's in my heart' and that what I should have said was 'he has my heart' but the only problem was I didn't realise until he took it with him and broke it. Maybe I should say all this but I don't. I couldn't face the pained silence and vampire sulking and I certainly couldn't cope with knowing that afterwards Angel would tell him all about it and he'd probably get a good kick out of me being all heart-broken.
So instead I carried on the strained conversation and we swapped stories about who's doing what and how we're all Saving The World- woo, go team us! I mumbled my way through the pleasantries until I could final hang up on him and try to get them both out of my head. I should hate them both for what they've done to me but I don't. I should stand up to Angel and tell him it's not normal to be carrying on like this, it's not healthy. You just don't stay in touch with the one you thought was your epic love- the Romeo to my bloody Juliet. I was young and naive and I thought it would last forever then it went horribly wrong and my heart broke and it should have ended there. Angel shouldn't have the right to drop into my life whenever he wants, to phone me up out of the blue like we're old college buddies who just lost contact for a while and he definitely shouldn't have the right to pry into my love life as if he owns me. And as for him, well, there's a whole bunch of things I should say to him. I should tell him that if the woman you professed to love for years finally realises she loves you and tells you, and you die and she thinks she's going to die too, and you come back and she's waiting and you finally have a chance to be together you should take it before one of you dies again, I should tell him that he's got no right to change his mind after all this time when I final know what I want, I should tell him he is absolutely the most awful kind of monster for hurting me this way but I can't even bring myself to pick up the phone. I can't blame him because there is this nagging doubt at the back of my mind that says he had every right to leave me and that maybe he finally realised all the awful things I'd done, the way I'd used him again and again and never told him how I felt till he was dying. How can I blame him for realising that there are better women out there than me, that I'm too broken to ever be loved?
After this revelation I didn't know what to do with myself for the longest time. I paced up and down trying to sort my head out but the only thing that was clear was I felt the need to go kill things. I spent the day alone as I pounded the sidewalks of London looking for the dark places that vamps hung out around here and taking a lot of pleasure in staking them while they slept. One less evil thing to worry about, right? But soon the novelty wore off and I was sick of being me- of trying to escape a past that wouldn't die (which is one of the many crappy things about having immortal exes) and just wanted to get out of my own head. So here I am many whiskies later and definitely on my way to forgetting some of my problems. Another night, another bar. I feel the need to change it up every few months when it becomes increasingly likely that someone I've slept with will ask me why I haven't called. There are only so many times I can mutter it's not you, it's me before I feel like a complete player but it is me. I've realised I didn't come back broken I was born that way.
"Oh poor little lost girl. She doesn't fit in anywhere. She's got no one to love." His voice bounces around my head in time to the beat of the music. I scream at him to get out and no one notices, it's too loud and they're all too wrapped up in their own lives, too busy dancing and drinking to notice little me going crazy. I never thought I'd go crazy. Die young, alone and possibly never be loved yes but crazy was always something I left up to the vamps. God it's getting late. I need a cab and a drink but maybe not in that order. I turn to go and crash into a man standing too close behind me.
"Hey, Anne." He mutters.
"Mm not Anne." I slur as I try to focus on him.
"Want a drink?" He practically shouts over the music as he thrusts a glass into my hand. "Double whisky, no ice, right?" He grins proudly as I try to steady my vision.
"You're…" I falter. Paul? Percy? Something beginning with a P. Defiantly a P.
"Peter." He offers. Oh jeez Peter. I knew it was a P. Polite Peter. "Drink up." He nods down to my glass and I oblige him with a deep swig. "You never returned my calls Anne. Did you phone break or something?"
"Urm yeah about that I-"
"It doesn't matter." He cuts across me. "I found you now and that's all that matters." He takes my hand and leads me to the chairs across the room. I wish I knew what to say to get away from him. I don't do second dates it's too difficult, they want too much from me. Everyone always wants something. I gulp down more of my drink to steady myself.
"I don't want to sit down." I pout feeling like a child.
"Shh come on, sit down with me." He cooes at me as he takes a seat.
"Don't want to." I manage to mumble.
"Shall we just go back to mine instead?" He asks as he tries to snake an arm around my waist. I shrug him off- something about him is giving me the creeps. Great taste in men, Buffy.
"I really don't think we should-" I stop suddenly. My head is spinning so fast I feel like I'm going to hurl. This isn't normal. "I don't feel well." I moan.
"You've had too much to drink that's all." He puts his arm around me and pulls me close. I try to push him away but I notice my arms are heavy all of a sudden and my legs feel like they won't hold my weight.
"No it's not that… it's…" Suddenly the words are difficult to form and I feel him half carrying, half pulling me forward.
"Too much to drink mate, I'll take her home." I hear him telling someone as I struggle to keep my eyes open. He doesn't know where I live, I think to myself, then it all goes black.
A/N: I hope you are enjoying this story. To anyone who reads my other story, The marrying Type don't fret I will be updating it very shortly! & Just a reminder that feedback makes me happy & happy writers write more so please please review.