justprompts : Complicated
Complicated.
My life is a living complication. I’m well aware of this, and I’ve known this since I was the age of sixteen. It’s probably possible that I’ve known this for longer, but for time’s sake, we’re gonna go with the age of sixteen. That’s when my life got really complicated.
…and just now, in this very moment, I realize just how easy I really did have it back then. Back then, there was no random gray area that you just stumble upon. (At the time, anyway.) The beginning was simple. Stake all vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. Cock the gun and pull the trigger. Badda Bing Badda Boom, or… however the saying goes. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, you get the idea. Quick and painless. Giles showed me the ropes, and I staked the suckers, beheaded the baddies. I did the slayer deed.
Here I am, walking down a lonely street that’s littered by streetlight. In all fairness, it should be pouring outside. It would better suit my mood than what could be considered an otherwise beautiful Californian night. It’s the type of night where lovers go for a walk, or people go to the old ridiculous drive in’s and have their car battery go dead and laugh about it. I never expect that from myself, but that’s what normal people are doing. They’re living. What am I currently doing? Oh, right. I’m walking down the street with some old-ass ancient sword with the intent of killing off one of my friends. So, cue the complication, and spare me reasons as to why this scenario doesn’t sound right.
I am now, currently, without counting Faith at the moment, (cause God knows when her birthday is, or how old she is; She never disclosed that information to any of us.) the winner of being the slayer that has survived the longest of any slayer ever. I’m at the old age of twenty-two. Consider how depressing that is… and then consider never having the audacity to talk about it. I will state this: I would not be alive (for the third time) today if it weren’t for the people that I consider my friends. They’re the reason that I made it this far into the world, and they’re the reason I’m still standing, still fighting, and still sane. I owe more than my life to them, more than words can explain. And now, for the fifth time in the process of twenty minutes, I’ve begun to consider turning around and turning Anya into that shade of gray I was just talking about. Yeah, I’m talking about Anyanka AKA Anya, by the way. Demon, turned human, turned demon.
I’ve done many things as a slayer, that I know other slayers (if they were alive) would probably put me in the category of rogue, or maybe just plain idiocy. I’ve befriended vampires; I’ve not killed a demon because he or she has posed no threat. Hell, since we’re there and on the subject, I’ve dated a vampire, and slept with two of them. But you see, I’m not a rogue, because I do believe in good. I believe that if something does no harm, than there is no reason to do harm towards it. I’m the queen when it comes to gray, and I’ll die fighting for what I believe in. It sounds cheesy and over reactive, but it’s true. It’s that simple, and that complicated all the same. For a while there, Anya fit into the category of those I’d be willing to protect if it came down to it. She was a friend and she stood beside me and risked her life for my sister and me. Being grateful for that sort of friendship doesn’t even cover it. Yes, she explained that the only reason that she even bothered to do it was because of Xander, but either way, it still counts. I’ll make a long story short. She was engaged to Xander as a human. Xander broke her heart. Vengeance became the name of her game again.
…and last night, she killed an entire fraternity, because of a wish.
Which is where the fine line between slayer as friend, becomes slayer as enemy.
Where friend becomes slayer.
Which is where complication arises.
And where “gray area” is used or completely discarded.
How easy it is for a slayer to single-handedly lose one of the few things that she holds closest to her in her lifetime.
There were words. There was yelling. But when it all came down to it….it was really just that simple. Simple like when I first started slaying. When I rebellious little Buffy, but when all vamps were evil, and all demons were to be killed. There is no justification for a demon to live after something so heinous. And evil.
Anya knew it too. And I know that she knew I would make the decision.
Willow gets it, but bless her soul, is bonded by Xander. Xander gets it, but will die claiming the opposite. So, as per being a slayer, it’s left to me, and the ability that a slayer has: to be truly alone, to stand out, to make the decisions, and to do the dirty work.
I’ve been there before. Putting a sword through your soul mate’s heart, because the weight of the world rests on it? Yeah, I did that…and it will stay with me for the rest of my life, regardless of how that turned out.
Xander walked out that door, and it felt like a knife was gutting me. Holding back tears is a similar feeling to choking. Putting on a front, keeping resolve. It’s what I had to do as I walked out after him, clutching the sword. We went opposite ways. Him, to find a way to stop me. Me, to find Anya, a friend, a demon, and kill her.
And that’s where I am. Walking down the street. Alone. The way the slayers were before me. Walking down the lonely street for twenty minutes, a girl has time to think, and ponder, and weigh options, and try not to break down.
... wanting to turn around, but doesn’t. Can’t.
It’s all very complicated, yes.
But it always comes down to one very simple answer: I’m the slayer.
So I march on.
My life is a living complication. I’m well aware of this, and I’ve known this since I was the age of sixteen. It’s probably possible that I’ve known this for longer, but for time’s sake, we’re gonna go with the age of sixteen. That’s when my life got really complicated.
…and just now, in this very moment, I realize just how easy I really did have it back then. Back then, there was no random gray area that you just stumble upon. (At the time, anyway.) The beginning was simple. Stake all vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. Cock the gun and pull the trigger. Badda Bing Badda Boom, or… however the saying goes. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, you get the idea. Quick and painless. Giles showed me the ropes, and I staked the suckers, beheaded the baddies. I did the slayer deed.
Here I am, walking down a lonely street that’s littered by streetlight. In all fairness, it should be pouring outside. It would better suit my mood than what could be considered an otherwise beautiful Californian night. It’s the type of night where lovers go for a walk, or people go to the old ridiculous drive in’s and have their car battery go dead and laugh about it. I never expect that from myself, but that’s what normal people are doing. They’re living. What am I currently doing? Oh, right. I’m walking down the street with some old-ass ancient sword with the intent of killing off one of my friends. So, cue the complication, and spare me reasons as to why this scenario doesn’t sound right.
I am now, currently, without counting Faith at the moment, (cause God knows when her birthday is, or how old she is; She never disclosed that information to any of us.) the winner of being the slayer that has survived the longest of any slayer ever. I’m at the old age of twenty-two. Consider how depressing that is… and then consider never having the audacity to talk about it. I will state this: I would not be alive (for the third time) today if it weren’t for the people that I consider my friends. They’re the reason that I made it this far into the world, and they’re the reason I’m still standing, still fighting, and still sane. I owe more than my life to them, more than words can explain. And now, for the fifth time in the process of twenty minutes, I’ve begun to consider turning around and turning Anya into that shade of gray I was just talking about. Yeah, I’m talking about Anyanka AKA Anya, by the way. Demon, turned human, turned demon.
I’ve done many things as a slayer, that I know other slayers (if they were alive) would probably put me in the category of rogue, or maybe just plain idiocy. I’ve befriended vampires; I’ve not killed a demon because he or she has posed no threat. Hell, since we’re there and on the subject, I’ve dated a vampire, and slept with two of them. But you see, I’m not a rogue, because I do believe in good. I believe that if something does no harm, than there is no reason to do harm towards it. I’m the queen when it comes to gray, and I’ll die fighting for what I believe in. It sounds cheesy and over reactive, but it’s true. It’s that simple, and that complicated all the same. For a while there, Anya fit into the category of those I’d be willing to protect if it came down to it. She was a friend and she stood beside me and risked her life for my sister and me. Being grateful for that sort of friendship doesn’t even cover it. Yes, she explained that the only reason that she even bothered to do it was because of Xander, but either way, it still counts. I’ll make a long story short. She was engaged to Xander as a human. Xander broke her heart. Vengeance became the name of her game again.
…and last night, she killed an entire fraternity, because of a wish.
Which is where the fine line between slayer as friend, becomes slayer as enemy.
Where friend becomes slayer.
Which is where complication arises.
And where “gray area” is used or completely discarded.
How easy it is for a slayer to single-handedly lose one of the few things that she holds closest to her in her lifetime.
There were words. There was yelling. But when it all came down to it….it was really just that simple. Simple like when I first started slaying. When I rebellious little Buffy, but when all vamps were evil, and all demons were to be killed. There is no justification for a demon to live after something so heinous. And evil.
Anya knew it too. And I know that she knew I would make the decision.
Willow gets it, but bless her soul, is bonded by Xander. Xander gets it, but will die claiming the opposite. So, as per being a slayer, it’s left to me, and the ability that a slayer has: to be truly alone, to stand out, to make the decisions, and to do the dirty work.
I’ve been there before. Putting a sword through your soul mate’s heart, because the weight of the world rests on it? Yeah, I did that…and it will stay with me for the rest of my life, regardless of how that turned out.
Xander walked out that door, and it felt like a knife was gutting me. Holding back tears is a similar feeling to choking. Putting on a front, keeping resolve. It’s what I had to do as I walked out after him, clutching the sword. We went opposite ways. Him, to find a way to stop me. Me, to find Anya, a friend, a demon, and kill her.
And that’s where I am. Walking down the street. Alone. The way the slayers were before me. Walking down the lonely street for twenty minutes, a girl has time to think, and ponder, and weigh options, and try not to break down.
... wanting to turn around, but doesn’t. Can’t.
It’s all very complicated, yes.
But it always comes down to one very simple answer: I’m the slayer.
So I march on.