Sunnydale, slayer, beware.
The car was all over the bloody road, but didn't care about that. Could hardly focus, as I had taken to the only thing that would ease the pain at this point. Killed a couple of birds and thought that it would make me feel better, but who was I kidding? Drusilla had been taken away from me, killed, dusted, right in front of my own eyes at Angel's little hotel and worse, it was a former friend that had committed the act.
Like Angel, bloody Rory the rage had developed a pesky soul, but unlike Angel, at least now, he was interested in being a white-hat and doing the bloody good deeds. The sod. The ponce. Mother bloody fucker was going to pay for what he did, as would everyone that got into my path. Had looked for the spineless former uber-vamp, turned wretched white-hat after draining the two birds, and couldn't find he or the mick who had shot me. That was another thing, that I hardly even felt. Had a nasty sodding gash in my face from where I had pulled the bullet out, and normally, it would have bloody hurt like the dickens, but this time, without my Dru, without my salvation, it didn't feel like anything.
All that I felt was bleeding pain, so I didn't differentiate between the two pains, hence, the bloody drinking. I tipped the Jim Beam back as I narrowly missed a car heading away from Sunnydale, and as I entered the city limits. Honked the horn at the wanker and had half a mind to turn around, ram the blighter off of the road and drain him dry and use his bones to play drums.
But, had other things to do here in Sunnydale, like kill everyone, including the bleeding prissy slayer, and then finding me a nice powerful witch or warlock who could help me bring my Drusilla back. Saw a ponce taking pictures of me as I neared the town, and decided to make him eat the sodding camera, but when I hit the brakes, I dropped my bottle, tried to catch it, and ended up slamming my car into a guardrail, and didn't even feel the pain from the impact as I ripped the car back around and drove my damaged car into town. Didn't care where I started. Didn't care about Angel and Cordelius being back in bleeding Los Angeles. Hated Los Angeles. All that I cared about was destruction. The destruction of Rory, the little spineless mick with the pistol and the destruction of the slayer, her little mates and anyone else who got into my way.
Pulled up to Angel's former mansion. Was bloody mine now, and didn't care if the slayer came around to try to stop me, because this time, she would be deader then either of the other two that I had killed. Pushed the car door open and slammed it shut, guzzling down the remainder of the Jim Beam, and realized, immediately, how much that I had consumed. Didn't care, but I wanted vengeance and needed a witch or a warlock to do some nasties for me and bring my salvation, my ripe, and wicked plum back, and now, I felt myself falling into the mansion, and collapsing on the floor, feeling nothing, as I hit it, the bottle breaking next to me being the last sound that I heard. This was better then the pain.
Like Angel, bloody Rory the rage had developed a pesky soul, but unlike Angel, at least now, he was interested in being a white-hat and doing the bloody good deeds. The sod. The ponce. Mother bloody fucker was going to pay for what he did, as would everyone that got into my path. Had looked for the spineless former uber-vamp, turned wretched white-hat after draining the two birds, and couldn't find he or the mick who had shot me. That was another thing, that I hardly even felt. Had a nasty sodding gash in my face from where I had pulled the bullet out, and normally, it would have bloody hurt like the dickens, but this time, without my Dru, without my salvation, it didn't feel like anything.
All that I felt was bleeding pain, so I didn't differentiate between the two pains, hence, the bloody drinking. I tipped the Jim Beam back as I narrowly missed a car heading away from Sunnydale, and as I entered the city limits. Honked the horn at the wanker and had half a mind to turn around, ram the blighter off of the road and drain him dry and use his bones to play drums.
But, had other things to do here in Sunnydale, like kill everyone, including the bleeding prissy slayer, and then finding me a nice powerful witch or warlock who could help me bring my Drusilla back. Saw a ponce taking pictures of me as I neared the town, and decided to make him eat the sodding camera, but when I hit the brakes, I dropped my bottle, tried to catch it, and ended up slamming my car into a guardrail, and didn't even feel the pain from the impact as I ripped the car back around and drove my damaged car into town. Didn't care where I started. Didn't care about Angel and Cordelius being back in bleeding Los Angeles. Hated Los Angeles. All that I cared about was destruction. The destruction of Rory, the little spineless mick with the pistol and the destruction of the slayer, her little mates and anyone else who got into my way.
Pulled up to Angel's former mansion. Was bloody mine now, and didn't care if the slayer came around to try to stop me, because this time, she would be deader then either of the other two that I had killed. Pushed the car door open and slammed it shut, guzzling down the remainder of the Jim Beam, and realized, immediately, how much that I had consumed. Didn't care, but I wanted vengeance and needed a witch or a warlock to do some nasties for me and bring my salvation, my ripe, and wicked plum back, and now, I felt myself falling into the mansion, and collapsing on the floor, feeling nothing, as I hit it, the bottle breaking next to me being the last sound that I heard. This was better then the pain.