The pain bloody worsened as I entered the city limits of Sunnydale.
All that I could think about was the fact that I had tried to rape Buffy, and that I had hurt her by sleeping with Anya and how Dawnie had made me realize truly what n ass I had sodding been.
I nearly crashed and lost control of the bike, as guilt rackd me, the bike sliding down the road, and myself, getting some nice road rash that didn't sodding hurt nearly as much of the bleeding pin in my chest did.
I deposited the bike on the edge of the woods near the cemetary, and looking around, bloody feeling like the world was following me, a giant lynch mob coming to attack me for all of my sins against their loved ones, I made my way towards my crypt.
The images were all still there. Slayers that I had killed and others and most of all, now in her town, visions of a bruised up Buffy on the ground near the bathtub, with me trying to take advantage of her.
How could I do that.
I cried as I opened the door to my crypt to find it empty. I was half tempted to rip Clem a new one. I mean some vamp could have made this place his, and then I would have had to do more killing, which I didn't fancy at the moment.
I headed right for the bottle of Smirnoff on the rock slab.
I grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap and sat down in my chair, wantin to throw the bloody bottle for what I had done to her, but not sodding wanting to because I needed it's contents in me to drown away the pain of a soul, and to try to think about how I was going to work up the courage to go see Buffy again.
I never lacked in the courage department, but everything was different now. The world was different now and I didn't know how to look her in the eyes and apologize, or try to explain all of the bad that I had done in the past, not that she would ask me to, but I needed her to, wanted her to.
I took several giant swigs and then threw the bottle. Bollocks. How could I have messed everything up so bad?
Comments 4
All that I could think about was the fact that I had tried to rape Buffy, and that I had hurt her by sleeping with Anya and how Dawnie had made me realize truly what n ass I had sodding been.
I nearly crashed and lost control of the bike, as guilt rackd me, the bike sliding down the road, and myself, getting some nice road rash that didn't sodding hurt nearly as much of the bleeding pin in my chest did.
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The bike was revving, as it lay on it's side, about ten feet away from me.
I dusted myself off, checked the wounds on my hands, and walked over to pick up the bike, getting back on it.
Had to go see Buffy, but how could I do that? Didn't want to go all epiloguey on the African story and throw the soul thing in her face.
I was sure that she didn't even want to talk to me, like bloody ever, probably.
I knew what I needed. A good heeping portion of alcohol to drown away the sorrows back at my crypt.
Just hoped that Clem hadn't decided to drink it all.
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The images were all still there. Slayers that I had killed and others and most of all, now in her town, visions of a bruised up Buffy on the ground near the bathtub, with me trying to take advantage of her.
How could I do that.
I cried as I opened the door to my crypt to find it empty. I was half tempted to rip Clem a new one. I mean some vamp could have made this place his, and then I would have had to do more killing, which I didn't fancy at the moment.
I headed right for the bottle of Smirnoff on the rock slab.
Reply
I never lacked in the courage department, but everything was different now. The world was different now and I didn't know how to look her in the eyes and apologize, or try to explain all of the bad that I had done in the past, not that she would ask me to, but I needed her to, wanted her to.
I took several giant swigs and then threw the bottle. Bollocks. How could I have messed everything up so bad?
Reply
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