Oct. 16th, 2004

not_the_shell: (Default)
This was...disconcerting.

Gunn, who I had considered a comrade-in-arms, who I had saved day after day when he had been trapped in that dimension where torture was a constant reminder of his failures...who I had watched die before me, just as Wesley had.

Who had spoken to me as if we might be friends.

He had abandoned me to the trap of this room, leaving me suffocating for words and starved for air I would never find. I wondered briefly, if Spike was still my friend. If Angel was still truly our leader.

If I might kill The Shell and be done with her tiresome presence once and for all, so that her words which lived within me did not also surround me as well, drifting down the hallways until they screamed into my head.

Pathetic weakling.

I stepped out of the room on feet I had only recently begun to understand as my own, and watched them all. Heard them all. Their sad little games and lies. If this was the reason we had been brought back from death, then I wished to die once more in glorious battle and be done with it finally.

Wesley was in my arms when he had crossed over. I had felt the life drain from him as I had whispered more lies in a voice not my own, then found the wetness on my cheeks. Strange. The tears had been mine - not hers.

Perhaps if Wesley was also dead, I might finally find the peace I needed. I could not bear to see him with...her. Hear the babblings of a once-great man now reduced to a sad state of mortal "love" for one so undeserving.

Perhaps...

September 2006

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