(no subject)
This day was turning out to be no better than the one yesterday. People always say that 'things will get better in time'; 'Just give it time'. Well, I've done that. I've given things time for many other situations in the past and always have the same result. I still feel the same grief, pain, and guilt that was there in the very beginning. But wasn't this my curse? To feel the pain and death that I had inflicted on others?
Yes, that pain I had learned to deal with day to day. It didn't make it any easier of course, but I'd been shown how to use that as motivation to do what I'd been doing for the past seven years. First there had been that idiot of a guy, Whistler. As much as I rolled my eyes everytime I thought about him, he did get me out of the rat-infested alleys and to doing good. He'd led me to the ultimate reason I'd become someone and more importantly - wanted to become someone. Buffy.
People may not believe it, but I hadn't necessarily wanted Buffy as I did later from the moment I first saw her. Wanted to help her? Loved her? Yes. But it was a different type of love that developed after I was around her more and started helping her. It didn't take long, of course, but it was still there. Not long after that we found out that I couldn't have the happiness that went along with the way I felt for Buffy. So I did the only thing I knew what to do at the time. I left Sunnydale and her.
Then came Doyle. Doyle was the type of person who I'd think about and shake my head, but do it with a smile on my face. Although, now he was just another member of the family I'd lost. He'd not only sacrificed himself to save so many others when he died, but he'd sacrificed himself to save me. That wasn't something that anyone had ever done before for me. Sure, others had given up things and made other sacrifices, - plenty of hard ones at that - but no one had made the sacrifice. It was times like these that I wished Doyle were back here to hit me on the back of the head and tell me to get on with my life and back to what I needed to be doing - helping the helpess. Then after a three minute heart to undead heart talk we'd go out and get drunk to make ourselves feel better. That was something he was always good for. Not just the drinking, but the fact that he'd tell me exactly what he though. Just like Cordelia had always done. And now? Both of them were gone.
Next came Connor. I'd loved him more than anything else in this world and I still couldn't save him. He was also another person who told me what he thought. I hadn't always wanted to hear it all, and his views may have been drilled into his head by Holtz, but he'd been honest in his feelings towards me no matter what they were. Now - they were all gone. So, this was all that was left. Fred, Gunn, and everyone who had come over from Sunnydale - then me.
After than fun little meeting in the lobby with Dawn and Cordelia's cousins, I headed back upstairs towards my room for some quiet. Maybe I could spend some time here and not have to tell someone else about Cordelia's death. I'd already done it two more times than I'd wanted or planned and I didn't want to have to do it again. Once I was in my room, I looked around at the mess I'd made earlier. Since I wasn't about to clean it up now, I just walked across the room not bothering to step over or around the papers and items that were strewn over the room. I stopped and looked at the dresser seeing the one lonely picture I'd bother to pick up sitting there.
Staring at it for a moment, I turned and walked right back out of the door. I thought that being alone here in the room would allow me to just stop thinking about everything else. But instead, if caused me to think about it even more. There were too many memories, and sitting alone wasn't going to help matters at all.
Not looking or speaking to anyone, I walked downstairs and to the door leading to the sewers. I walked the sewers for who knows how long until I figured it was dark outside. What I needed was another good kill. Wesley shared that feeling and we'd let out some 'stress' the other night after telling him about Cordy. I climbed above ground and began walking the streets to see if there was any stupid vampires or demons wanting to show their faces. I didn't have any weapons this time, but I was alright with that. Using my fist let out so much more built up anger than a weapon ever could.
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