Finally, I managed it. I'm drunk. I'm utterly drunk. I'm so sodding pissed I'm hearing things. I could've sworn she just told me she'd been in love with Faith. A sixteen year old girl? Admit it Wes, you always got the hots for me. Well, yes, of course the girl has sexual chemistry with a broomstick.
Sod the glass, the bottle was already halfway to my mouth when she douched me with that tidbit of news. I was staring, I know I was. Tilting my head to the side, I looked at her, really *looked* at her. Huh. I guess I wasn't hearing things, and maybe that would explain why I'd not seen Faith in quite a while now. Though, admittedly, Faith was never one to be easily spooked.
"I...see," I muttered, thinking of how long I'd been in love with Fred. Far to long before we finally got together. Only so we could die before...we actually got together. Just a few weeks was all we got. I had told her sooner, but Angel wiped away those memories and those words.
"She never..." I wove my hand around, looking for words, "...Got a hint? Suspected anything? I take it she didn't and didn't take the...ah...news well? Huh."
"No, she didn't. I hid it remarkably well...apparently she'd already seen you and someone else who was back from the dead...then me, and I hadn't wanted to give her anymore stress. But I did. I was surprised she didn't bolt after I said it." I sighed and stared at my bottle. Lovely, lovely bottle.
"We both finally agreed that she'd been to young back then to know how to react if I'd have told her then. And then I died on her...and didn't get back in time for it to have done any good..." The tears started to well up in my eyes but I was drunk enough not to care. "I wanted her to have a better life than she apparently ended up with...damn it all..."
"Oh." It's hard for me to imagine Faith being unable to react to anything really. I'm guessing Miss Ramsey here knows a whole different Faith. Must've been a bit of a shock to see her now. Hmmm. I guess.
Sipping from the bottle, I ran her words over in my mind and frowned. "Someone else is back?" I asked, blinking a few times to clear my vision. Oh. Right. Glasses. Never mind then. But...who else was back? For one tiny moment, just a small one, I thought of Fred. But she couldn't be back, since her soul had been...evaporated.
That made me take a healthy swallow from the bottle. Thank god for my good friend Johnny. Or was this Jack? Daniel? Whomever, they were great lads. When I put the bottle down, I was surprised to see Miss Ramsey here had started crying. When did that happen? Why did it happen? Bugger.
Patting my pockets, I fumbled around to look for a handkerchief before finally settling on a paper napkin from the table. "Err...there, there, Miss Ramsey. Things probably look very bleak right now and everything but... " I paused, thinking how things didn't look bleak but downright black, "...Uhm, I'm sure things'll be better soon?" Yes. That sounded convincing.
I gave him a slight smile for his efforts. "It's all right. I just...I let myself care too much is all. I really shouldn't have. Should have known better than that. But yes, someone else is back. Faith didn't drop a name for that one, though."
Taking another swig, I said, "You know? I really wish I could really sleep. I think I could sleep for almost a week if it weren't for the nightmares. To sleep and not to dream, God I'd love that..." I laughed, even if it was a bit hollow.
"How 'bout you, Wyndam-Pryce? Think a week's worth of sleep would feel good?" A change in topics was a good idea. And a weeping drunk was bad company.
"Hmm, yes. I know about that," I muttered, mostly to myself. Care to much and get yourself in trouble. It's a very good set up highroad to a disaster. Not a mistake I was going to be making again any time soon, not if I could help it. My not caring much about anything any longer was a big help.
I still couldn't help but wonder who else was back from the dead? Anyone I'd known? But if that were the case, wouldn't Faith have told me? Unless she didn't know how, or was asked not to. She might have mentioned it to Miss Ramsey here in shock. Or maybe she just didn't have time. So...who else was back? Angel? Spike? Gunn? Cordy maybe? Illyria...
Christ, I need a drink. I think I'm due for my third bottle for the evening soon.
"Sleep," I slurred, "Ish oper-orrer-overrated," I nodded, quite possibly far to many times. "Because the moment you close your eyes?" I whispered, "They'll be there, clutching and clawing and trying to pull you in." Sometimes I wonder if I actually had left Hell at all when I woke up.
"The name's Weshely, by the-the way. Wyndam-Pryce is my bastard of a father. We jusht happen to be scar-sharing the same last name. Un-f-fortunatly. I could knock you uncinc-unkwinc- out, but if our good friends Johnny and Jack aren't helping...well..."
"Oh, they help enough to get a few hours total in. Only thing that works, really." Except...no. That had to have been a fluke. "An' I'd rather stay mostly conse-consc-awake while I'm in the pub. And sorry 'bout the name thing, Wesley. You can drop the 'miss', too, you know. 'M fine with just Ramsey, or Dian if you'd rather." I took a long swig and found when I finished that I'd emptied it. "Damn..."
I sighed. "Should have brought a bottle with me...got a lot stashed under my bed in a duffle bag. But the one good thing about not doing it is I get to spend the Council's money for another one." I bought another bottle and returned to the table. "Want me t' get you one, too, Wesley? Make the wankers pay for it, eh?"
"Hmm, I know. They say meditication works to, but I'm not going to f-find that out." It'll influence the thinking too, medicine does. Alcohol only makes you a bit more cheerful, and the world a bit blurry. Of course the lack of glasses already did that, but that's okay. The world's a blurred place anyway.
"Ramsey?" I wrinkled my nose at that with a bit of distaste. "Ramsey's a lad's name," I pointed out, watching my finger for a moment before pulling it back quickly. "Dian's nicer, Dian." Nodding far to long at that, I glared at my bottle. Which was empty. Buggeration. How was that possible?
"Huh?" Running that over in my head, a slow smile spread over my face. Let the Council of Wankes pay for the dead? That's was funny, it was so funny it actually made me laugh for a moment. Which...hurt. Cradling my head but still smiling, I shook my head at her. "I like you, Dian. Let's get us an-another bottle and toast on the Wankers for their guneri-genror- generosity."
"Yes, you've got a point about the names. I think Dian's nicer, too." I grinned and chuckled a little. "Glad you like me. It's kind of...nice, not drinking alone for once. Can comizer-comis- understand things, too, even if it's different, and it's nice, having someone know how awful trying to sleep is."
I bought him another bottle, and an extra for each of us in case we ran out again before we decided to leave. I handed him the bottle and raised my in toast. "To the Council. May they never run out of money, so we can keep spending it things they'd rather we didn't."
Gloominess aside, this was rather nice. And he wasn't so bad, really. Lot more interesting to talk than I'd have thought.
"Hear, hear," I cheered on toast. This was actually, nice. Even the patrons weren't looking at me as though they'd rather have me gone. They seemed surprised that there was someone who'd voluntarily sat down with me even. To be honest, so was I, even if it did turn out to be a somewhat kindred...spirit.
Spirit. How double. We were spirits in a way, who were in high spirits, drinking spirits.
Snorting at my own lame joke, I took a swig from the bottle and sighed contently when the amber liquid burned down my throat. "That's the good stuff," I murmured. "You w-wouldn't believe the sk-shit they had the nerve to call Alecohol in the States." A shudder ran through me when I recalled Gunn's beer, though a sad smile soon followed it.
"Sometimes I miss it," I admitted, slumping down in my seat. "My...friends." Alright, I'm getting to comfortable around her, time to head back to the safe-house very soon.
"Indeed. Very good stuff. I knew there was a good reason to stay away from most products made there, as far as the alcohol." I grinned a little when he snorted, but didn't ask. It didn't matter, after all. But at least he'd thought of something funny.
"Mmm. Must be hard. Never really had that many friends, myself. Mostly just associates. No one I'd miss terribly who didn't die long before I did, and they were in England anyway." I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I should probably get a cab while I could still walk to it relatively well. I took a long swig and thumped the bottle down on the table.
Go back and crawl off to my room and drink till I passed out. Good idea as always. "'S nice," I said again, "Havin' someone t' drink with."
"You're better off without them," I slur, leaning my arms on the table and resting my chin on them. I watch the light play in the amber liquid inside the bottle, turning it to gold and brown with little sparkles. The way life used to be. All gold with sparkles, a little bit of brown sometimes. Now, now it's all black and depressing.
"Once you get friends, you'll end up loosing them and then... poof! You're turning into a morose drunk who bemun-rewon- bemoans being alive constanterly." Oh. Wait. That's me. Now that's just funny. Another snort gets out at those words and it quickly turns into a giggle. Great. I'm so drunk I'm giggling, it's been a long time since that's happened.
"Yes," I agree, "S nice. Even if you make me giggle. You-you're a bad girl, Dian," I mutter, spinning the empty bottle on the table and grinning when it points at her. "Oh, looks l-like you'se it. How does zhis game go again?"
I managed to contain a snort when he giggled. But he did have a point about friends, in a way. Ones I'd had before had hurt me. Attachments. Pain. I really should buy a statue of the Buddha sometime when I was sober. Nice sized one so I can set a bottle in his lap or something. I giggled a little at that.
Then I did snort. "Should have known me when I was younger. Bit wild for a while, y'know, def'nitely a bad girl." I blinked and looked down at the bottle. "Mm. Looks like I am."
I scratched my head for a moment, thinking. "If I remember this...think it means we hafta kiss or somethin'."
"Sort of like Ruperts then?" I ask, remembering the stories I'd been told 'in confidence' about one Rupert Giles. How he wasn't the right choice to be anyone's watcher because of his dark, dark past. Why is it that every bloody watcher I've met has at one point rebelled but me?
Obviously I've done something very wrong. Then again, father would've eviscerated me if the word rebellious would've even past my lips. He would have. Literally. I know that now, that cyborg I shot was the spitting image of him. In every way.
Bleary eyed I look at the bottle before my eyes flick up at Dian. "Really?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. "I thought you were zupozed to tell the truth or some-something. Huh. No offense, but I'm not the-the kissing type no more."
Sighing, I shook my head and reached for the bottle. "Stupid game anyway. Jush like truth or dare, I've nothing to hide in either case and it zounds like you sp-spilled the beans too." A healthy swig gets taken from the new bottle, making me groan as the bitter taste goes down my throat.
"Eh, I was no Ripper. Just some mindless sex in my twenties, really." I took a swig and blinked. Good and strong, that stuff.
I squinted at the empty bottle. "Dunno. Too many things involving bottles to remember what's bloody what. And I can't blame on the kishin'. Ends in bloody heartbreak one way or another. Even the non-romantic stuff seems t' do that."
I nodded. "Is stupid, yes. Things kids and teenagers do. Ohhhh, teenagers. Headaches, most of 'em."
"Mindless sex huh? Hmmm, that's where I mustht've gone wrong." Nodding at that, I gingerly touch my cheek, thinking I'll probably not going to get any mindless sex looking like this. Then again, the time for mindless sex is so very over for me.
I'll just be mindless.
"Sick of games," I mutter, remembering the game Angel played just before we took out the Senior Partners. If indeed we even took them out. Oh I’m getting more morose then usual, and that in company. That cannot be good, before I know it what I’m thinking will be out of my mouth. Really time to go home now.
"Gamesh are stupid. And-and so are teenagers and kids. Nothing but t-trouble. Connor was a kid, gave me nothing but trouble and all I did!" I start, raising my voice as well as my finger, "wash trying to save him and-and Angel. The Council of Wankers is welcome to those Shlayers." Holding up my bottle, I clink it against her, "more power to t-them. Bloody serves them right eh?"
"Mmm. Can't say I like most games. Liked sparring, if that could be called a game. Darts, too. But that's about it. But drinking games can be all right." I took another swig and ran a hand through my hair. Been years since I'd done any of those.
He clinked his bottle against mine and I nodded. "They can barely handle one Slayer, rather apparently can't handle two...and now they've got them popping up willy-nilly all over the bloody globe. 'S not gonna go well, I'm thinkin'."
Faith would be fine, though. She was Faith, after all. My girl. I rubbed my face; I really, really needed to stop thinking of her as mine. She wasn't mine, she was her own, and she wasn't even my Slayer anymore. Suck it up, Dian.
Sod the glass, the bottle was already halfway to my mouth when she douched me with that tidbit of news. I was staring, I know I was. Tilting my head to the side, I looked at her, really *looked* at her. Huh. I guess I wasn't hearing things, and maybe that would explain why I'd not seen Faith in quite a while now. Though, admittedly, Faith was never one to be easily spooked.
"I...see," I muttered, thinking of how long I'd been in love with Fred. Far to long before we finally got together. Only so we could die before...we actually got together. Just a few weeks was all we got. I had told her sooner, but Angel wiped away those memories and those words.
"She never..." I wove my hand around, looking for words, "...Got a hint? Suspected anything? I take it she didn't and didn't take the...ah...news well? Huh."
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"We both finally agreed that she'd been to young back then to know how to react if I'd have told her then. And then I died on her...and didn't get back in time for it to have done any good..." The tears started to well up in my eyes but I was drunk enough not to care. "I wanted her to have a better life than she apparently ended up with...damn it all..."
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Sipping from the bottle, I ran her words over in my mind and frowned. "Someone else is back?" I asked, blinking a few times to clear my vision. Oh. Right. Glasses. Never mind then. But...who else was back? For one tiny moment, just a small one, I thought of Fred. But she couldn't be back, since her soul had been...evaporated.
That made me take a healthy swallow from the bottle. Thank god for my good friend Johnny. Or was this Jack? Daniel? Whomever, they were great lads. When I put the bottle down, I was surprised to see Miss Ramsey here had started crying. When did that happen? Why did it happen? Bugger.
Patting my pockets, I fumbled around to look for a handkerchief before finally settling on a paper napkin from the table. "Err...there, there, Miss Ramsey. Things probably look very bleak right now and everything but... " I paused, thinking how things didn't look bleak but downright black, "...Uhm, I'm sure things'll be better soon?" Yes. That sounded convincing.
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Taking another swig, I said, "You know? I really wish I could really sleep. I think I could sleep for almost a week if it weren't for the nightmares. To sleep and not to dream, God I'd love that..." I laughed, even if it was a bit hollow.
"How 'bout you, Wyndam-Pryce? Think a week's worth of sleep would feel good?" A change in topics was a good idea. And a weeping drunk was bad company.
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I still couldn't help but wonder who else was back from the dead? Anyone I'd known? But if that were the case, wouldn't Faith have told me? Unless she didn't know how, or was asked not to. She might have mentioned it to Miss Ramsey here in shock. Or maybe she just didn't have time. So...who else was back? Angel? Spike? Gunn? Cordy maybe? Illyria...
Christ, I need a drink. I think I'm due for my third bottle for the evening soon.
"Sleep," I slurred, "Ish oper-orrer-overrated," I nodded, quite possibly far to many times. "Because the moment you close your eyes?" I whispered, "They'll be there, clutching and clawing and trying to pull you in." Sometimes I wonder if I actually had left Hell at all when I woke up.
"The name's Weshely, by the-the way. Wyndam-Pryce is my bastard of a father. We jusht happen to be scar-sharing the same last name. Un-f-fortunatly. I could knock you uncinc-unkwinc- out, but if our good friends Johnny and Jack aren't helping...well..."
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I sighed. "Should have brought a bottle with me...got a lot stashed under my bed in a duffle bag. But the one good thing about not doing it is I get to spend the Council's money for another one." I bought another bottle and returned to the table. "Want me t' get you one, too, Wesley? Make the wankers pay for it, eh?"
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"Ramsey?" I wrinkled my nose at that with a bit of distaste. "Ramsey's a lad's name," I pointed out, watching my finger for a moment before pulling it back quickly. "Dian's nicer, Dian." Nodding far to long at that, I glared at my bottle. Which was empty. Buggeration. How was that possible?
"Huh?" Running that over in my head, a slow smile spread over my face. Let the Council of Wankes pay for the dead? That's was funny, it was so funny it actually made me laugh for a moment. Which...hurt. Cradling my head but still smiling, I shook my head at her. "I like you, Dian. Let's get us an-another bottle and toast on the Wankers for their guneri-genror- generosity."
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I bought him another bottle, and an extra for each of us in case we ran out again before we decided to leave. I handed him the bottle and raised my in toast. "To the Council. May they never run out of money, so we can keep spending it things they'd rather we didn't."
Gloominess aside, this was rather nice. And he wasn't so bad, really. Lot more interesting to talk than I'd have thought.
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Spirit. How double. We were spirits in a way, who were in high spirits, drinking spirits.
Snorting at my own lame joke, I took a swig from the bottle and sighed contently when the amber liquid burned down my throat. "That's the good stuff," I murmured. "You w-wouldn't believe the sk-shit they had the nerve to call Alecohol in the States." A shudder ran through me when I recalled Gunn's beer, though a sad smile soon followed it.
"Sometimes I miss it," I admitted, slumping down in my seat. "My...friends." Alright, I'm getting to comfortable around her, time to head back to the safe-house very soon.
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"Mmm. Must be hard. Never really had that many friends, myself. Mostly just associates. No one I'd miss terribly who didn't die long before I did, and they were in England anyway." I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I should probably get a cab while I could still walk to it relatively well. I took a long swig and thumped the bottle down on the table.
Go back and crawl off to my room and drink till I passed out. Good idea as always. "'S nice," I said again, "Havin' someone t' drink with."
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"Once you get friends, you'll end up loosing them and then... poof! You're turning into a morose drunk who bemun-rewon- bemoans being alive constanterly." Oh. Wait. That's me. Now that's just funny. Another snort gets out at those words and it quickly turns into a giggle. Great. I'm so drunk I'm giggling, it's been a long time since that's happened.
"Yes," I agree, "S nice. Even if you make me giggle. You-you're a bad girl, Dian," I mutter, spinning the empty bottle on the table and grinning when it points at her. "Oh, looks l-like you'se it. How does zhis game go again?"
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Then I did snort. "Should have known me when I was younger. Bit wild for a while, y'know, def'nitely a bad girl." I blinked and looked down at the bottle. "Mm. Looks like I am."
I scratched my head for a moment, thinking. "If I remember this...think it means we hafta kiss or somethin'."
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Obviously I've done something very wrong. Then again, father would've eviscerated me if the word rebellious would've even past my lips. He would have. Literally. I know that now, that cyborg I shot was the spitting image of him. In every way.
Bleary eyed I look at the bottle before my eyes flick up at Dian. "Really?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. "I thought you were zupozed to tell the truth or some-something. Huh. No offense, but I'm not the-the kissing type no more."
Sighing, I shook my head and reached for the bottle. "Stupid game anyway. Jush like truth or dare, I've nothing to hide in either case and it zounds like you sp-spilled the beans too." A healthy swig gets taken from the new bottle, making me groan as the bitter taste goes down my throat.
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I squinted at the empty bottle. "Dunno. Too many things involving bottles to remember what's bloody what. And I can't blame on the kishin'. Ends in bloody heartbreak one way or another. Even the non-romantic stuff seems t' do that."
I nodded. "Is stupid, yes. Things kids and teenagers do. Ohhhh, teenagers. Headaches, most of 'em."
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I'll just be mindless.
"Sick of games," I mutter, remembering the game Angel played just before we took out the Senior Partners. If indeed we even took them out. Oh I’m getting more morose then usual, and that in company. That cannot be good, before I know it what I’m thinking will be out of my mouth. Really time to go home now.
"Gamesh are stupid. And-and so are teenagers and kids. Nothing but t-trouble. Connor was a kid, gave me nothing but trouble and all I did!" I start, raising my voice as well as my finger, "wash trying to save him and-and Angel. The Council of Wankers is welcome to those Shlayers." Holding up my bottle, I clink it against her, "more power to t-them. Bloody serves them right eh?"
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He clinked his bottle against mine and I nodded. "They can barely handle one Slayer, rather apparently can't handle two...and now they've got them popping up willy-nilly all over the bloody globe. 'S not gonna go well, I'm thinkin'."
Faith would be fine, though. She was Faith, after all. My girl. I rubbed my face; I really, really needed to stop thinking of her as mine. She wasn't mine, she was her own, and she wasn't even my Slayer anymore. Suck it up, Dian.
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