The sun set rapidly, that night, as if it was aware of what would happen, and was scared to show its brilliance in such an evening.
As soon as night fell, Buffy walked out of her house, turned her head to look every way, nervously, eyes like a frightened rabbit. She directed her steps towards the old graveyard, abandoned for what had seemed centuries. But she knew. She knew the graveyard wasn't abandoned at all, in the depths of the Earth.
She sat restlessly on an old, moldy, and cold marble tomb.
There, she waited. Facing her was the far end of the cemetery, and the beginning of the forest. A temple, old and rotten, stood between Buffy and the dark woods. A sombre shadow emerged from the opening of the temple. Buffy could see him, even if the only light was at the gate, the way her back was facing. It had to be him. Who else?
She was convinced he hadn't seen her: nor a glance her way, nor a sudden gasp.
He was going in the woods. If he succeeded, he'd be protected for the rest of the night. The opacity of the forest would be a barrier for him. She had to run after the vampire. Otherwise, she'd never kill him.
The vampire started to run to the woods. Getting up swiftly, the slayer dashed after him. This was her chance!
After a moment of running, she reached the border of the forest, but was out of breath. She addressed herself to the forest:
"Spike, stop!" she said, panting. "I know you're here! We have to discuss something. I thought we had a truce. You weren't supposed to suck all the blood out of Willow, Alex, Giles, Mom, and... Well, most of the kids at my school, anyway... So what choice does that leave me with? Come back! I have to kill you!"
Seeing the forest gave no response, nor did Spike, she took a deep breath, and entered the forest. Buffy heard a muffled sound, as if someone was trying to yell, but a hand was on their mouth to keep them from screaming.
The slayer suddenly felt afraid, as if she had heard herself scream, like her last cry of agony. Swallowing hard, she clenched her fists and started to run towards the direction she had heard the cry.
As soon as she took a step, she cut her ankle. Letting out a whimper, she got down to see what had cut her, and felt her ankle. A big shard of glass, sticking out of the mutilated foot reached her hand and cut off her pinkie finger. She started to yell, and franticly moved her other foot, but it was pierced by an even larger piece of glass. Blood gushed down the foot. A vein exploded, soaking the forest with Buffy's blood. In pain, she fell to her knees. Her right hand, humid with the blood that was pissing out of the spot where the missing finger should have been, started to advance, as if wanting to motion Buffy to walk on her knees.
She did exactly that, and cut her wrist on another shard of glass. Blood splashed everywhere, and the hand was torn off when she tried to move it again. She started to cry, desperately, and clenched the arm with her intact one.
At that precise moment, she felt one of her feet let go. As she turned her head to see it, she smelled death, nearing. She noticed shards sticking out of her back, but continued to crawl forward, not realising she was now doomed.
Indeed, the shards had passed through her, and her sudden moves made her stomach tear open, leaving Buffy's intestines out, in the open. She felt empty.
"It was an ambush," Buffy thought. "It was all already planned. He wanted to kill me. Spike did this. I have been trapped. It's the end."
These were her last thoughts, as her body started to shut down, even if she was still conscious. Her vital functions stopped, and Buffy, the vampire slayer died, in sufferance. All had started in a pool of blood, and that's how it had all ended.
Yes, this is my torture for Buffy the vampire slayer, I don't like her at all, so this explains that, doesn't it? So, voilà, Buffy's dead, that's the end of that. So that also explains the title. Done for a torturing contest I was the only one to participate in… sheesh. Yes. Please R&R, and if you flame me, I will have the incredible pleasure of making fun of you, wondering why you haven't got a life of your own. Good day, good night, good afternoon, good morning, good evening, good whatever…
Bloody yours,
-Ajariel the Bloody-