Ten Times I Cried [justprompts]
Ten Times You've Cried
Ten times? Oh, boy. Umm... do they have to be in chronological order? No, I'm stalling, sorry. I just, don't like to admit that I've cried at all, ya know.
Seeing the Blinikov World Ballet perform Giselle in 1890. And that was when I was soulless.
I cried a lot after I was cursed with my soul, the first time by the gypsies. But out of all the anguish and torment that I had caused, I remember crying at the memory of killing my sister, Cathy. I loved my family, and while I was upset over killing them, as well as the thousands of other families I killed or helped to kill, I cried not only because I had killed her, but I just mourned her death. I mourned as a brother should, no matter how she'd died, because she had been young, and beautiful inside and out, and should have had her whole life ahead of her, but instead she had unwittingly allowed a demon into her home, and he had killed her. Without a conscience, I would have killed my father, and perhaps even my mother for enabling him, for taking his side over mine -- but I never would have killed Cathy. I've been told numerous times that it was the demon who killed my victims, not me. I usually don't agree with that, not only because I have the memories, but because I know I'm capable of it, even with my soul. But Cathy, sweet, innocent Cathy, I never would have killed. I would have died for her, would have killed for her, but I never would have intentionally hurt her.
I cried the night I lost my soul, when I thought Buffy and I would be separated for months, possibly forever. At the time, I thought we would be separated by an ocean while I travelled with the Judge's arm. Little did either of us know we would be separated by much more than that, and ultimately more permanently. I cried with Buffy on the dock, and I gave her my ring, and I had never felt such anguish and pain as the thought of being away from her.
I don't know if this counts, but I would have cried after my soul was returned. I never really got the chance, since by the time the memories of those months returned, I was already in hell, but I definitely would have cried over all the pain I'd caused Buffy, as well as her friends. And the pleasure I derived from it.
I cried when Buffy and I were possessed by the ill-fated lovers in her high school. Technically it was the soul of the teacher possessing me that cried, but I recognize her pain.
I cried when I returned to my senses after I escaped from hell. I know I was wild for a little bit, but I remember smelling Buffy, seeing her, and crying, not only because I was out of hell... but because of the pain I was still in. Would always be in. And the pain I had caused her. Would always cause her.
I cried when I knew we could never be together. Not just because of my curse, but because our relationship, as it stood, just wouldn't work. Couldn't work, couldn't be sustained. I mourned its loss, and the loss of her. I cried because I knew even if we couldn't be together, she would never understand why. I knew I would have to be the one to end it, and she would hate me for it, and she did.
I cried when the First was tormenting me with Jenny Calendar's face and words, trying to drive me to kill Buffy, but instead drove me to kill myself. Up on the hill behind the mansion, I cried with her as she begged me to go inside, and I tried to get her to leave. I didn't cry because I was going to die - at that point, I welcomed the respite. I cried out of frustration and grief because I didn't want Buffy to see my weak, selfish act of suicide. I didn't want to leave her behind, and I didn't want her to see what I was about to do. And maybe I shed a few tears when I realized Someone else didn't want me to die, either. That snow had to come from somewhere.
I cried after Doyle died. It wasn't right away. I was angry with him, and with myself, for a while, over what happened that night. But eventually I was able to think back over the brief time we knew each other, had become friends, and mourn the loss of that friend. I might also have drunk some whiskey in memory and been a little drunk, but it still counts.
I cried after the loss of my son. The second time, after I made the deal with Wolfram & Hart and no one else remembered him. I mourned his lost childhood, and thanked God that he didn't remember that loss, that as far as he was concerned, he'd had a perfectly happy, normal childhood with loving, normal parents. I cried for the betrayed, insane young man I saved the only way I could find, the beautiful baby who'd been taken from me, and I cried out of relief, that he was no longer being tormented by the inner demons no one could slay.
There. That's ten. I might have cried more over the years -- I might not have.
Ten times? Oh, boy. Umm... do they have to be in chronological order? No, I'm stalling, sorry. I just, don't like to admit that I've cried at all, ya know.
Seeing the Blinikov World Ballet perform Giselle in 1890. And that was when I was soulless.
I cried a lot after I was cursed with my soul, the first time by the gypsies. But out of all the anguish and torment that I had caused, I remember crying at the memory of killing my sister, Cathy. I loved my family, and while I was upset over killing them, as well as the thousands of other families I killed or helped to kill, I cried not only because I had killed her, but I just mourned her death. I mourned as a brother should, no matter how she'd died, because she had been young, and beautiful inside and out, and should have had her whole life ahead of her, but instead she had unwittingly allowed a demon into her home, and he had killed her. Without a conscience, I would have killed my father, and perhaps even my mother for enabling him, for taking his side over mine -- but I never would have killed Cathy. I've been told numerous times that it was the demon who killed my victims, not me. I usually don't agree with that, not only because I have the memories, but because I know I'm capable of it, even with my soul. But Cathy, sweet, innocent Cathy, I never would have killed. I would have died for her, would have killed for her, but I never would have intentionally hurt her.
I cried the night I lost my soul, when I thought Buffy and I would be separated for months, possibly forever. At the time, I thought we would be separated by an ocean while I travelled with the Judge's arm. Little did either of us know we would be separated by much more than that, and ultimately more permanently. I cried with Buffy on the dock, and I gave her my ring, and I had never felt such anguish and pain as the thought of being away from her.
I don't know if this counts, but I would have cried after my soul was returned. I never really got the chance, since by the time the memories of those months returned, I was already in hell, but I definitely would have cried over all the pain I'd caused Buffy, as well as her friends. And the pleasure I derived from it.
I cried when Buffy and I were possessed by the ill-fated lovers in her high school. Technically it was the soul of the teacher possessing me that cried, but I recognize her pain.
I cried when I returned to my senses after I escaped from hell. I know I was wild for a little bit, but I remember smelling Buffy, seeing her, and crying, not only because I was out of hell... but because of the pain I was still in. Would always be in. And the pain I had caused her. Would always cause her.
I cried when I knew we could never be together. Not just because of my curse, but because our relationship, as it stood, just wouldn't work. Couldn't work, couldn't be sustained. I mourned its loss, and the loss of her. I cried because I knew even if we couldn't be together, she would never understand why. I knew I would have to be the one to end it, and she would hate me for it, and she did.
I cried when the First was tormenting me with Jenny Calendar's face and words, trying to drive me to kill Buffy, but instead drove me to kill myself. Up on the hill behind the mansion, I cried with her as she begged me to go inside, and I tried to get her to leave. I didn't cry because I was going to die - at that point, I welcomed the respite. I cried out of frustration and grief because I didn't want Buffy to see my weak, selfish act of suicide. I didn't want to leave her behind, and I didn't want her to see what I was about to do. And maybe I shed a few tears when I realized Someone else didn't want me to die, either. That snow had to come from somewhere.
I cried after Doyle died. It wasn't right away. I was angry with him, and with myself, for a while, over what happened that night. But eventually I was able to think back over the brief time we knew each other, had become friends, and mourn the loss of that friend. I might also have drunk some whiskey in memory and been a little drunk, but it still counts.
I cried after the loss of my son. The second time, after I made the deal with Wolfram & Hart and no one else remembered him. I mourned his lost childhood, and thanked God that he didn't remember that loss, that as far as he was concerned, he'd had a perfectly happy, normal childhood with loving, normal parents. I cried for the betrayed, insane young man I saved the only way I could find, the beautiful baby who'd been taken from me, and I cried out of relief, that he was no longer being tormented by the inner demons no one could slay.
There. That's ten. I might have cried more over the years -- I might not have.