It's hardly fair. Naughty slayer got a second chance. Killed a member of my family. (They all think she's a good girl, but it's a trick. The wool's over their eyes; can't see what's true. Lies, lies, lies.) Stuck with a pin, right in the chest. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
But she's taken more.
Stole my Angel's heart, ripped it right out of his chest. She's got it now, wired it so Angel does what she likes. Tsk, tsk, tsk. But the gypsies started it. The girl tasted like wildflowers, pretty as a picture. But the rest got angry; they must be punished. The candles burned, and they whispered words I'd heard before. (The stars chanted them in lovely voices, over and over. Lovely words.) And just like that, daddy was stole away, like a snap of fingers. The Slayer took their example, finalized the job, no more playing for Angel.
Buffy was jealous of Darla, too. One little whisper; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Turned Angel against her, naughty boy. Boys aren't supposed to hurt their mummies, not unless told. Jealousy consumes the Slayer, swallows her up and seeps through her skin. Always wants what she can't have, what's not hers.
Got a third chance too, naughty girl. Tsk, tsk, tsk; they should steal her cakes. Bad girls don't get cakes, everyone knows. The god was about to destroy the world. (Because we failed at it. Naughty slayer and the witch ruined the plans again. Scratch, rip, and tear. The ink is smeared and the paper is torn, no one can tell what it's supposed to read, and there's no time to rewrite.) The sparkles danced, and the sister's blood ran, but the puzzle was put together too early. (They weren't told to touch, the naughty children. Opened the box before their birthdays, not even a peek. The lid came off, the bow was ripped. Scolded, they should be.) The Slayer jumped, stealing all the sparkles for herself. (Tsk, tsk. That's another line against her.) But that made them angry, the blue and purple slit her open and disappeared. (I didn't even get to touch them, I bet they would've tingled my skin.) But the witch missed her, and brought her back. The stars told me all of it, what was to come, just like they always did.
Miss Edith told me to warn Spike, warn him of what I already knew. I could get him back, the Slayer would die, and the Hellmouth would burn, just like he promised. (But he never keeps all his promises, infected with the Slayer's lies. It's contagious, you know.) I thought he believed me, too. The electric shocks ceased, and my Spike had back his head. But only for a little while. (Tick tock, the clock ran out before it was supposed to.) The Slayer filled his head again, pushed me out. No room, the Slayer is greedy and takes up all the space.
But (Oooh, leeches and knives, all sticky red. Miss Edith and Miss Charlotte are fighting, naughty girls. Too much time at the Hellmouth, the Slayer has influenced them. No cakes for a week, and blindfolds. They'll learn.) the moon has told me something... a lovely fate. Buffy and I, we'll see each other again. The marks will ne counted.