Rating: PG 15
Spoilers: S5 Buffy/S2 Angel (after 'The Body')
Disclaimer: Not mine. Surprised?
Distribution: Take it. Send me addy, all will be good.
AN: I had to change a few things. Also, this is part of a series. The 'Fading' series. P.S Janice, you're a doll :)

I'm alone in my bedroom. Away from all the prodding stares of the people who care for me. I laugh harshly when I think about them, Willow, Xander and Giles. They don't even know *me*. I don't even know myself anymore, or how I came to be this... thing... this empty vessel for the balance of good and evil.

A month ago I was happy, or at least, that's what I told myself. I may have been deluded, but it was simple, and easier than reality. I was living the cliche, vampires aside: a family that loved me, friends who cared, a boyfriend that adored me and my grades were beyond average. It's funny how fate can creep up on you and absorb itself into your happy little life and turn it into a nightmare. At least my life. I chuckled bitterly.

I reach into my dresser drawer and pull out a wooden stake, my weapon of choice. I sit on the bed and run my hand along the firm wood, reveling in the familiarity and comfort that the stake brings me as I memorize its contours.

I feel the stinging sensation of splinters piercing my skin and embedding themselves there. Flinching slightly, I pull out each one, staring as the tiny droplets of blood formed.

Everyone always leaves me, one way or another. I feel like a chew toy, after a few good rounds, they get bored and leave.

Angel left. So did Riley. And now my mother's joined the bandwagon.

Empty and alone is my mantra, and staking every vampire possible is my action.

The sparkle and shine job. Pull on the mask and do your job until your fists bleed and the job is done.

I reach underneath my bed and pull out a small hand-knife, sharpened so much that the blade shines in the dull light of my room.

My eyes examine the blade with disinterest before I slowly press it into the flesh of my palm. I flinch slightly as the blade slices through my skin like butter. It leaves a trail of blood that slowly drips onto my sheets. I bite my lip, savoring the current of pain.

I need to feel something, anything besides the aching inside of my heart. Too many bruises to heal, it feels like they've imprinted themselves into my soul.

I fix my eyes onto my wrist, watching intensely as I raise the knife.

Is it worth it? Why stay in a world that uses you and strips away your supports?

I close my eyes tightly and raise the knife higher. I feel my hand descend towards my wrist. But at the last minute I throw the knife away.

I sighed and leant back against my bed.

Not today.

(May become a series)

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