Crimes and suffering pummeled by a vampire coming to the aide of a young slayer
It was hard living like this. Undead, and still looked upon by the humans that saw me in alleys feeding on rats, as some kind of loser. If only they really knew.
They were the same types of people that I would have feasted upon for weeks before the Gypsies cursed me, shackled me with a suffering that was so intense, that it was by far worse then any torment that I had ever inflicted upon any of my victims.
One of these alleys was were I lay, my green trenchcoat on, ruffled and stinky, not unlike me, my head up against the wall praying for something to happen and take me from this world. Rat blood infecting me with weakness, my body dwindling down to 165 pounds.
This is what I had been reduced to. Laying in trash and rat infested alleys, my head against dilapidated buildings, remembering with envy, the days when I was cursed, but still functional in the world, trying to help. Remembering with sadness but with a trace of exhiliration mine and Darla's escapades throughout the world.
God, Darla. I hated her, but still loved her so much. She created me in 1753, two hundred and forty three years ago, and had taken me to such highs, and led me to such lows. Our battles with Holz. Our travels with James and Elizabeth, and of course, our long journeys to every corner of the world with Spike and Drusilla. All culminating with me running into that Gypsy curse in 1898. I still remember it all as if it were yesterday. The taste of the Gypsy girl's blood, coursing into my mouth from her sweet thigh in front of the fireplace, and the subsequent harrowing agony of guilt and torment that was sent through me when with the red lighted eyes of the curse.
The pain was not dissimilar then to what I currently feel in this Manhattan alley, only then I was still strong, and now, I'm reduced a simpering waste.
I haven't had a goal or an agenda in some years. I feel like my time is up. This isn't uncommon, I feel this often, but it only gets worse, and the despair, more palpable.
I have to face the reality that I'm a disgusting monster now, with nothing to offer the world, and that a simple piece of wood could end all of the suffering, but I can't do that. If nothing else, my existence frustrates the likes of Spike, Drusilla and particularly Darla, who all had tried to help me after I was inflicted with a soul, and were all equally unsuccessful in their attempts.
My existence was now only alive to contradict the existence of vampires such as they, and other demons.
I banged my head up against the wall, trying to knock myself out, and temporarily away from the pain, but it didn't work. Then I saw a rat, and my hunger overtook my mindset of hurting myself, so I went after it, fumbling around, feeling as pathetic as ever.
I didn't get it and then I heard footsteps. "It's 1996, man, learn how to dress, and geez, could you look more pathetic!"
I looked up to see a dapper dressed, albeit in a goofy man's body looking at me.
"Get away from me!" I snarled, getting to my feet quickly.
"You're needed, Angel," He said, she's going to need you, it's all up to you though."
I didn't know what he meant, and really only wanted to kill him, but for some reason, I listened.
They were the same types of people that I would have feasted upon for weeks before the Gypsies cursed me, shackled me with a suffering that was so intense, that it was by far worse then any torment that I had ever inflicted upon any of my victims.
One of these alleys was were I lay, my green trenchcoat on, ruffled and stinky, not unlike me, my head up against the wall praying for something to happen and take me from this world. Rat blood infecting me with weakness, my body dwindling down to 165 pounds.
This is what I had been reduced to. Laying in trash and rat infested alleys, my head against dilapidated buildings, remembering with envy, the days when I was cursed, but still functional in the world, trying to help. Remembering with sadness but with a trace of exhiliration mine and Darla's escapades throughout the world.
God, Darla. I hated her, but still loved her so much. She created me in 1753, two hundred and forty three years ago, and had taken me to such highs, and led me to such lows. Our battles with Holz. Our travels with James and Elizabeth, and of course, our long journeys to every corner of the world with Spike and Drusilla. All culminating with me running into that Gypsy curse in 1898. I still remember it all as if it were yesterday. The taste of the Gypsy girl's blood, coursing into my mouth from her sweet thigh in front of the fireplace, and the subsequent harrowing agony of guilt and torment that was sent through me when with the red lighted eyes of the curse.
The pain was not dissimilar then to what I currently feel in this Manhattan alley, only then I was still strong, and now, I'm reduced a simpering waste.
I haven't had a goal or an agenda in some years. I feel like my time is up. This isn't uncommon, I feel this often, but it only gets worse, and the despair, more palpable.
I have to face the reality that I'm a disgusting monster now, with nothing to offer the world, and that a simple piece of wood could end all of the suffering, but I can't do that. If nothing else, my existence frustrates the likes of Spike, Drusilla and particularly Darla, who all had tried to help me after I was inflicted with a soul, and were all equally unsuccessful in their attempts.
My existence was now only alive to contradict the existence of vampires such as they, and other demons.
I banged my head up against the wall, trying to knock myself out, and temporarily away from the pain, but it didn't work. Then I saw a rat, and my hunger overtook my mindset of hurting myself, so I went after it, fumbling around, feeling as pathetic as ever.
I didn't get it and then I heard footsteps. "It's 1996, man, learn how to dress, and geez, could you look more pathetic!"
I looked up to see a dapper dressed, albeit in a goofy man's body looking at me.
"Get away from me!" I snarled, getting to my feet quickly.
"You're needed, Angel," He said, she's going to need you, it's all up to you though."
I didn't know what he meant, and really only wanted to kill him, but for some reason, I listened.