Title: Mono
Author: Kirsty
Disclaimer: Joss owns 'em. Not me. I ain't competing in Numfar's dance contest.
Pairings: S/A S/B S/D A/B.
Rating: 'R'
Spoilers: Everything.
Improv #22: sugar, frame, sheer, time
Summary: "Monologue: A long speech made by one actor in a play, film, etc,. esp when alone." (Collins Dictionary)
Notes: No - I'm not dead. Sorry to disappoint. Kate, Vixen, Rune - This is for you guys. (Each for my own reasons, but mostly 'cos I adore the lot of ya. <g>) Enough of the mush, on to the 'unbeta'd and written as quickly as my fingers could keep up with my brain' angst.
"I always wanted to hate you, deep within my heart of hearts. You know I could never do it, ya smug bastard.
Damn fool, ain't I?
I wanted to hate you after you left us. Hell - I pretty much wanted to rip out your guts and play jumprope with 'em the first time we met, but that was a long time ago. I wanted to hate you when I finally realised that you took me for granted, when you laughed in my face after that first *stupid* admission of love.
But I did hate you when you left us.
I hated that you made her cry every night, leaving her to gouge at her skin, attempting to replace the emotional pain with physical. Dru said it made her feel better, knowing that the spider was crying alone in his web, rather than the fly. Then again, my Princess never did make a lot of sense now, did she? Darla soon buggered off to pastures new after having to deal with one too many of Drusilla's fits. (Now that was one bitch that I was glad to see the back of. She made icebergs look bloody cosy.) Never needed the Ice Queen anyway. Had a rep to protect and all that rot.
I hated that eternal image of you that Dru held in her mind, the one she took out like a photo every other day - comparing us two. 'Daddy' always seemed to win, even though for all we knew you could've been dust. I got real angry after the fist few decades of that, y'know? Told her that it was about time we made our own way without the aid of an invisible Sire. When she agreed to go to America I thought she'd finally seen the light. Took the metaphorical picture out of it's frame and ripped it into little shreds. Washed our hands of the whole affair. Yeah - I was young, naive. So stab me.
But of course, you came back.
Cheers, mate.
That was just what I needed, right alongside having my spine snapped in two by the Slayer and Slayer Mark II. Never thanked her properly for that, although Dru offing her replacement probably should've done the job. No one ever believed my warning that a French manicure could be so lethal...But I digress.
You came back, you 'reacquainted' yourself with your inner bloody nutcase, fucked her, and screwed me right over. Blah, blah blah. I've gone over this crap too many times already to make it any more interesting to blab on about now. And oh yeah - there was that whole 'ending the world' gig you tried to pull off. I take it that weekend your brains were swapped in a jolly old exchange with a retarded bluebottle?
You have to admit it - That was sheer damn stupidity, man.
But back to *her*.
You made me go to her that first time, and when it came to the next instance my feeding habits were threatened, it almost seemed like second nature. God that's sick. But Hell - That's me and relationships all over, isn't it?
You nearly broke her, y'know? Saw it when we made that truce, saw it when the two of you were dukin ' it out. Saw it a few more, rare, times before... before...
Did you know that Dawn didn't cry at all for two solid weeks? Freaked the hell outta me, I'm telling you. I think that chip must've short circuited my brain, because I know for one thing I never should have felt guilty for that, and for another, I never would be tellin' you half of this without half a barrel of cheap booze running through my veins.
They all pity her now. Treat her different like. Like she's made out of glass or something. They're all petrified she'll just...break.
Too late for me 'an you of course. Never could take it on the chin as well as the Summers women.
Don't ask me how I knew you were going to off yourself that one Christmas. Christ, if you wanted to dust yourself, you could've just fallen on a stake or something.
Always had to fulfil some sort poetic justice.
Pillock.
'Poetic justice'. Funny. It still reminds me of her. You didn't know her, although you might've spotted her eyeballs rolling around the floorboards, oh... going on for November 1880? I couldn't bare that haughty gaze any longer. Couldn't touch her after I snapped her neck, though. Dru did the rest. Said she tasted like sugar and spice, and promptly spat out the blood. Made her head spin. Made my stomach lurch.
How'd you do that, huh?
How did you make me fall for your cast-offs?
How did you make me fucking well *feel* at all?
I knew it was all wrong with her. I'm not a complete fool, you know. I know it's twisted and perverse, but that's what I've come to expect. You understand that, right? Of course you do. You *taught* me that.
I also hate it that you've always been my Sire, even though Dru was the one to pop my proverbial clogs. (although I have to admit you did a better version of popping my cherry...)
They never loved me. Never *could* love me, not as much as they loved you. Not even as much as they hated you either. Congrats old man, you win both ways. You must be very proud.
Cecily was a mistake, I know that now.
Dru...
Dru was everything. For a while. She may have been my destiny, but Buffy was my fate. Or maybe that's the other way around? I'll have to get back to you on that one.
And you? I never really knew what was goin' on there. You certainly never seemed to give a toss either way. Jammy bastard makes everyone fall in love with him and never pays the slightest bit of notice. It'd be so fucking funny if it wasn't so deeply tragic.
I still haven't learned to hate you yet. Haven't learned to bury you deep inside my guts, to that dark place where even the demon gets jittery visiting.
You made me love them both.
No. Don't look at me like that - you bloody *made* me! You made me love them, and then you made me kill them and you still don't realise that, now do you?! I hated them because I loved you, and I hated you because I loved them.
And the very last thing she thought about was you before she made that jump. You're not surprised. You're so *fucking* calm about everything, aren't you?
And I hate you for it. For everything.
I HATE YOU.
And I hate her!
And I hate you more.
And then I think I love the both of you even more because you're not looking at me with hate in your eyes. She didn't hate me when she jumped, and she should've.
I shouldn't feel like this."
The punch was expected, and after wiping the small trickle of blood from his nose, Angel stood up and faced his boy.
"Are you done?"
Spike stopped his pacing, roughly wiped a burgeoning tear from his eye with the back of his sleeve, and swapped positions with his Grandsire, sitting on top of the tomb. He sat, cross-legged, and casually flicked a speck of nail polish from his thumb.
"Yeah. I'm done."
He looked up, and watched as Angel began to pace.
"It's your turn now."
Fin
Continue to sequel