How did it come to this point? What brought me to this place? The overpowering odor of urine, rancid garbage, the metallic hint of blood, fills my nostrils. I watch with empty, blood shot eyes, as cockroaches vie with rats for the remains of a bird.
I lay slumped in an alley, next to an overflowing dumpster, unable to find the energy to move, awaiting the rising of the sun. I can feel it coming, the prickling sensation on my exposed skin, the pain behind my eyes.
But nothing diminishes the agony flowing through my veins as the last of her blood, her healing, soul brimming blood leaches from me.
As the pounding in my head intensifies, I close my eyes and slip back four days.
To the day, I destroyed myself.
Again, I see her horror, her pain, her...sorrow, as she finds me crouched over my victim. A nameless, random choice--a smack- filled whore I found on the waterfront.
I dropped the girl and forced myself to my feet, watching her eyes harden, the life, the love leaving them. Slowly she turned and walked away.
And I let her go. Didn't try to stop her. Didn't try to explain.
I'm not sure there is a rational explanation.
For five years I hadn't killed a mortal, not even the scum on which we fed. I did it for her. Her purity showed me the way. We didn't need to kill to survive.
But, I had been a killer for two hundred years before I had met her and that's something a person can't ever forget. The instinct is always there, simmering beneath the surface. To rend, to destroy, to drain.
My demon is restrained by her soul, but I'm still a killer.
And so, five years to the night we left Sunnyhell, I killed again, for pleasure, for sport, to prove that I still could. I didn't do it because we had been fighting or because I was bored or because I was hungry.
I just did it. I was strolling on the docks, saw the girl and took her. I can drain a person of blood in three minutes.
My life ended in three minutes.
As I dropped the girl, it was already too late. After one and a half minutes of sucking down drug enriched blood, the familiar scent of violets wafted towards me.
And I didn't stop. Didn't try to cover up my crime.
Just as I didn't try to stop her from walking away.
I didn't bother trying to go home that night, not wanting to see the disappointment or the hatred or the fear in her eyes. I holed up in an abandoned warehouse and waited for the pain to start.
As the smack left my system, as the moon rose heavy and bright, I felt the first pang of need. I wandered for the next three nights, always returning to the warehouse to sleep. Thrashing in fever dreams, each day worse, as I grew hungry from lack of food and lack of her.
Mortal blood would have helped to stem the craving, but I saw no reason to feed as I saw no reason to continue to live. My demon forced me into hiding each morning, but couldn't force me to feed.
So, now, I have no energy, no strength to rise and find cover. My body shakes with need. My eyes burn. My mouth is bone dry, my tongue swollen with thirst.
I await the sun and my final death.
And, yet, if I could just see her one more time, see her with love shining in her eyes or her face as we make love, our pale bodies entwined beneath the stars...
My queen, my goddess, my soul. Without her I am nothing. without her I want to BE nothing. Nothing but dust.
All this time, I thought I was simply addicted to her blood, to the strength it gave me. It kept me alive, made me powerful, and suppressed my demon. With her blood sustaining me, I became the man I might have become before a dark haired demon came out of the night and snatched my life from me.
But, now, with impending death comes clarity and I realize I'm not only addicted to her blood, but I need her. I need her to love me, to forgive me, to make me whole. To see past the stupidity of my act. To welcome me home.
I hear the sound of car at the end of the alley, but I don't have the strength to turn my head. The soft patter and squeak of tennis shoes drifts towards me, the pace quickening. I manage to force my eyelids open.
And she falls to her knees beside me, in the filth, the muck. My goddess, my savior, bringing herself to my level. I try to tell her 'no' and 'go away' and 'leave me alone', but my tongue and throat don't work.
Our eyes meet and I'm stunned to see crystalline tears flooding from hers. I'm not worth one drop.
"You idiot," she cries, her arms wrapping around me and lifting me. "I've lost one husband in the last three hundred odd years, I'm not planning to lose another one any time soon."
I lay helplessly in her arms as she carries me to the car, hear her bark orders to the driver as we slide behind opaque glass. She cradles me on her lap like a child, her tears wetting my filthy face, and I smell her blood.
My lips twitch, my eyes flicker, and her wrist covers my mouth. Helplessly I latch onto the wound, too weak for even my demon to emerge. I try to suck, but don't have the strength. As her blood drips into my mouth, I swallow and immediately feel the rush. The pain fades, and my lips move on the cut, keeping it open, drawing the blood faster.
My hand raises and curls around her wrist. My fangs slide down and I bite. As power fills me, I taste her love, her lust, her anger, her pain, her need.
She needs me almost as much as I need her. My eyes flash open and I pull my mouth free. Our eyes meet and hold and I see the love she feels for me shining in her soulful depths. There is anger and disappointment as well, but those can be dealt with later.
More tears drip from her eyes as she caresses my cheek with a shaky hand. "You're an idiot, William."
And suddenly I laugh. The pain and need gone, the hunger satiated, I'm filled with joy. Straddling her lap, I lean down and kiss her with all the love I feel for her.
"Forgive me," I beg in a whisper.
"Do you forgive yourself?"
"Only if you forgive me."
She sighs in that cute way she does without breathing and gives me a tremulous smile. "I forgive you. I have no choice. I love you with all my heart and soul, William."
Relief sweeps me and I bury my face in the crook of my neck, unfamiliar, unnatural tears stinging my eyes. "I love you, too, Lily...even though I don't know who this William is you keep referring to."
She chuckles at that, her hands rubbing my back. I know there's a lot more to discuss, to face, to understand and to accept.
But, in her arms, addicted to her love, I feel like I can make it right again. We're so much stronger together.
My beautiful flower of death, my Slayer, my Lily, and me, her William.
End