I Wish I Could Sleep ch19
Connor exhaled deeply as the Master bit into his shoulder and drank. His body throbbed as his blood was taken, his heart was racing, he'd lost the feeling in his legs and he was dizzy. The room span, rows of fangs shined in the candlelight spinning so fast as he looked round. Hands gripped on the Master, begging for more. Connor's world was slipping away and it was magnificent. He gasped heavily and sighed, whined quietly though. There was
no sorrow, just physical pain. He felt his body drop to the floor and Nirvana he couldn't feel or think it was wonderful. And now tired sprawled out on the floor in the underground chamber he closed his eyes, and pretended he didn't exist.
Faith was still walking, still so angry. She couldn't place any of her feelings, couldn't explain them. She just felt, her heart heavy. She felt another presence...strangely homelike: "Aw...Faith, my girl," she turned to see the Major, smiling that two- hundred dollar smile. Arms stretched out. "What's the matter baby." Faith knew he was dead. He'd died, she hadn't seen it but...He was standing right ahead of her, and she wanted him to be real so much as she collapsed in his arms. He
stroked her hair and whispered in her ear: "That little punk...he hurt you huh? And those, those brats. They bring you
down you know Faith your better than that."
Faith kept her eyes closed, picturing the Major holding her, feeling his touch. Lost in sudden comfort. When she wished...that wish that stupid wish! She screamed at the top of her lungs. She'd imagined Connor was holding her, just for a second. She hated him. From the bottom of her heart and from the pit of her stomach. She tried to tell herself she hadn't loved him. But she
had. Only someone she'd loved could make her feel this bad. It hurt so much
all the time, no family, no real friends, no life, no Connor. This was her reality. She looked up and the Major wasn't there holding her, it was daylight. She hadn't slept, but it felt so real. It hadn't been though. She
ran back angry. They had to deal with what was going on here and get rid of
the Fang Gang so they could concentrate.
Billy walked slowly over to Connor's body lying in the corner of one of the
chambers where they'd put him. Avoiding the light, devoid of reality, sick to his stomach, like a drug-addict in the morning after. Eyes shut. Crouching. "Hey Connor," Billy said cheerfully, leaning over him. Connor would usually
have responded nastily, would have retorted the young demon. But he was so tired, and even when he lay still with his eyes closed he couldn't rest. He
felt himself falling and spinning, he could see it in the blackness. Billy cocked his head to the side: "I said hey..." he didn't get a response, "Well, anyway I'm to take you above ground. It's sunlight up there....I guess I'll carry you if you want." Billy grabbed Connor's arm and slung it over his shoulder passing Connor's body weight onto him and slowly began walking. "But uh....in return, don't suppose you could hit that bitch...maybe in front of me?" Connor glared at Billy, the world still spinning and surreal,
his eyes out of focus. "Shut up!" the words were heavy with hard breathing, you could tell it took
energy to utter a syllable.
Great, just great. He'd just stop thinking about her. A swirling in his stomach began to start, a raging feeling of dread. They were going to put him back up there. And he couldn't go home. He had to face her, her burning
eyes. Her sharp attitude. Her five by fives and her firm thighs. It was all
about Faith. Faith...that bloody slayer. When she touched him, it was like.
It was always like he could breathe. He could always breathe. But not like this, a door swung open and she breathed light into him. His world would turn upside and he would love it. He loved being beside her, because every-time he knew. When she touched him he would breathe again. But no more. None of that. She hated him, it was a revolting feeling, hating himself so much and having her hate him. Something that his entire being could not stand. Not after a million years of sleep. Not for a second. But he was forced to. He just wanted to rest.
Connor exhaled deeply as the Master bit into his shoulder and drank. His body throbbed as his blood was taken, his heart was racing, he'd lost the feeling in his legs and he was dizzy. The room span, rows of fangs shined in the candlelight spinning so fast as he looked round. Hands gripped on the Master, begging for more. Connor's world was slipping away and it was magnificent. He gasped heavily and sighed, whined quietly though. There was
no sorrow, just physical pain. He felt his body drop to the floor and Nirvana he couldn't feel or think it was wonderful. And now tired sprawled out on the floor in the underground chamber he closed his eyes, and pretended he didn't exist.
Faith was still walking, still so angry. She couldn't place any of her feelings, couldn't explain them. She just felt, her heart heavy. She felt another presence...strangely homelike: "Aw...Faith, my girl," she turned to see the Major, smiling that two- hundred dollar smile. Arms stretched out. "What's the matter baby." Faith knew he was dead. He'd died, she hadn't seen it but...He was standing right ahead of her, and she wanted him to be real so much as she collapsed in his arms. He
stroked her hair and whispered in her ear: "That little punk...he hurt you huh? And those, those brats. They bring you
down you know Faith your better than that."
Faith kept her eyes closed, picturing the Major holding her, feeling his touch. Lost in sudden comfort. When she wished...that wish that stupid wish! She screamed at the top of her lungs. She'd imagined Connor was holding her, just for a second. She hated him. From the bottom of her heart and from the pit of her stomach. She tried to tell herself she hadn't loved him. But she
had. Only someone she'd loved could make her feel this bad. It hurt so much
all the time, no family, no real friends, no life, no Connor. This was her reality. She looked up and the Major wasn't there holding her, it was daylight. She hadn't slept, but it felt so real. It hadn't been though. She
ran back angry. They had to deal with what was going on here and get rid of
the Fang Gang so they could concentrate.
Billy walked slowly over to Connor's body lying in the corner of one of the
chambers where they'd put him. Avoiding the light, devoid of reality, sick to his stomach, like a drug-addict in the morning after. Eyes shut. Crouching. "Hey Connor," Billy said cheerfully, leaning over him. Connor would usually
have responded nastily, would have retorted the young demon. But he was so tired, and even when he lay still with his eyes closed he couldn't rest. He
felt himself falling and spinning, he could see it in the blackness. Billy cocked his head to the side: "I said hey..." he didn't get a response, "Well, anyway I'm to take you above ground. It's sunlight up there....I guess I'll carry you if you want." Billy grabbed Connor's arm and slung it over his shoulder passing Connor's body weight onto him and slowly began walking. "But uh....in return, don't suppose you could hit that bitch...maybe in front of me?" Connor glared at Billy, the world still spinning and surreal,
his eyes out of focus. "Shut up!" the words were heavy with hard breathing, you could tell it took
energy to utter a syllable.
Great, just great. He'd just stop thinking about her. A swirling in his stomach began to start, a raging feeling of dread. They were going to put him back up there. And he couldn't go home. He had to face her, her burning
eyes. Her sharp attitude. Her five by fives and her firm thighs. It was all
about Faith. Faith...that bloody slayer. When she touched him, it was like.
It was always like he could breathe. He could always breathe. But not like this, a door swung open and she breathed light into him. His world would turn upside and he would love it. He loved being beside her, because every-time he knew. When she touched him he would breathe again. But no more. None of that. She hated him, it was a revolting feeling, hating himself so much and having her hate him. Something that his entire being could not stand. Not after a million years of sleep. Not for a second. But he was forced to. He just wanted to rest.