Fragments

Prompt #7: Hardest Truth.

There was kind of no way around this one being angsty. I've been having a crazy week, and I wonder if this isn't the result; some residual anger slash hatred of the world and stuff. :P

The hot water doesn't burn my skin anymore. Double meaning in the words "thick skin" now, but I'm too numb- again, literally and figuratively- to even crack a smile at that inside joke.

I loathe when Buffy looks at me anymore.

There was a time- really, just weeks ago- when I'd do anything to get her to look at me. To see me. Yeah, most of it was acting like an idiot and saying whatever I knew would get her cheeks to turn that delicious pink. Always knew how to get a reaction.

Turning off the water, I shiver slightly at the cool air hitting my skin now. I dry off, I wrap the towel around myself. Stare in the mirror.

Now, when she looks at me, all I see in her eyes is pity. Disgust. Apprehension. Repulsion.

It kills me to finally realize it, though I shouldn't have been so stupid. So naïve. I've made a point to never let anyone carve their way into my heart; the only exception to that was Diana. Maybe it was a sign, her death, something from the universe showing me how truly alone I'm destined to be.

I get dressed.

Buffy will never love me.

My makeup is heavy again. Pull on a pair of dark jeans- not entirely sure they're clean, given that I only own three pairs of pants and don't often have the money to use the laundromat down the street. Stolen or… otherwise. Certainly never claimed I hadn't been around the block.

How could I have been so stupid; falling in love with the epitome of light, of smiles and sunshine and good? If she's a goddess, I'm a fucking trash bag on the side of the road.

I'm sliding my leather coat on, and out the door seconds later.

The way she looks at me, the things she probably thinks of me; it'll all probably get worse when she and her little gang of nerds find out I've switched teams.

What can I say? Thin line between love and hate. They're both feelings of passion, aren't they?

If I can't get Buffy to love me, then I'll do the next best thing.

Interesting that there's still movement inside City Hall. That alone should tell you something's not right. After I'm pointed in the right direction by a woman at the service desk- pretty sure she's not vamp, but she ain't human- I walk down the hallway, and my steps don't falter.

Really, I should have seen it from the start.

Buffy will never love me. She'll never want me. To her, I'll always be the second-string Slayer. A foster case to pity and look down upon from her perfect little pedestal, alongside her perfect little friends. Inside her fucking perfect little life.

I knock on the door, and raise an eyebrow when it opens. Neither of us show any surprise. "You sent your boy to kill me."

"That's right. I did." He's not gonna bullshit me. Maybe he already knows why I'm here.

"He's dust."

The Mayor nods. "I thought he might be, what with you standing here and all."

If Buffy won't love me, then fuck it.

My eyes darken even more. I can feel them go colder.

"I guess that means you have a job opening." It isn't a question. And it doesn't come out as one.

He gestures for me to enter.

Fuck it.

I'll make her hate me.

I've got nothing left to lose.