<<"Betrayed", Norther, Mirror of Madness>>
One morning I woke up,
realised I've been betrayed
shadows of yesterday
fill my mind as I drift away
no matter what's ahead.
I'll face the death
I'll find my hate
this twisted fate I have
shall lead the way
and make you brake
Xander's face twisted as a snarl crossed it. Kick him out, would they? He couldn't stop, any more than a true policeman could let a murderer walk free. Thousands of vampires still walked the night, free to murder and maim. And Buffy thought she could stop him with a petty command?
Ozymandus stood at the shore, and told the sea to stay back.
He resolutely cut several stakes using his Uncle Rory's bench saw. There had been a special on one by one pine this week, at Carter's Hardware. Once the last had been done, he put most of them into a bag, save the last. He put that, a cross, and a bottle of holy water into a bum bag strapped around his waist.
He picked up the custom made brass knuckles he had found in Giles' armoury, with the crosses soldered on the front, and put them in his jacket's pocket. Then he stepped out the garage door to face death.
One night I went to die,
deceived again,
I was ready to fly
thousand blades waiting for me,
so fuck you all,
I was meant to be free
my hate was cheating me,
is this the path,
I cannot see
too many bridges burned,
can't you see I am the traitor
He sat on his bed, cleaning a deep cut on his arm with the free hand. All he had was a bottle of fifty percent vodka he had stolen from his folks, but it seemed to be doing a good job of cleaning the debris from the wound. Once it had been cleaned, he tied a bandage around it.
Damn vampires. Damn demons with knives. He'd kill them all, make them all pay.
Buffy had caught up with him yesterday. There had been a huge scene in the courtyard at school -- all the world now knew that Xander the social outcast was now even cast out from his fellow losers. The cheerleaders, once content to humiliate him, no longer felt him even worth that much attention.
Traitorous Slayer. Giles, while obviously sympathetic, was unwilling to help him while Buffy could see him. The Englishman had been of little help to the Californian teen.
[chorus]
would you die for my hate now
burning in my eyes,
burning me inside.
I guess I now have to cut you
while lying by your side,
I'm out of my mind
Stepping into his small sanctum once again, Xander threw the zippo lighter on the bed, then threw the exhausted can of hairspray at the waste basket with an explosive curse. He had been using it as a primitive flamethrower, in concert with the lighter, when it had expired midfight. He had been lucky to escape the two remaining undead with merely a deep, deep scratch on his face, cutting through his left eyebrow and crazily zagging across his cheek.
this time the conspiracy,
in your mind went out of line
no more forgiving,
close your eyes
I'll help you to die
in the night I am beside you,
weird voices in my mind
you're asleep and I love you,
but more than thousand times I cut you
He collapsed onto the bed, sitting with his face hidden in his palms. Buffy had found him on one of his hunting expeditions, one of the rare outings where he was not ambushing a vampire in it's lair during sunlight hours. The bitch had sat back, watching him fight the demon.
Afterwards, she had tried to talk to him. He refused her -- he still loved her, in a small way, but he was unwilling to submit himself to her flawed service.
The Noble Slayer, descending to allow the primitive savage to help her in her holy quest.
would you die for my hate now
burning in my eyes,
burning me inside
I guess I now have to cut you
while lying by your side,
I'm out of my mind!
that night I took your life
and now this traitor dies
and so he died...
The Slayer had claimed understanding, yesterday.
The short blonde had approached him, claiming to know something of rejection and fear from some encounter she had had with Faith with a man that they had hurt. Xander doubted it -- her walls of purposeful ignorance were far too high to come close to understanding the ramifications of her actions.
Tomorrow afternoon, he was reluctantly coming to a meeting, to talk to Giles, Willow, and Faith. Xander didn't mind Faith at all -- she had never kicked him out 'for his own good', had never tried to dumb down the demon slayage.
She would understand. The dark haired Slayer had spoken to him of a possible job with a big figure in the demonic underworld, killing demons.
He pulled a perfectly formed katana from under his bed, painstakingly sharpening it. The dead had no use for their leavings once they had shuffled off the mortal coil.