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Challenge #8 - In and Out

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  • Challenge #8 - In and Out

    Disclaimer: I do not own the character in these drabbles. He has no one to blame but himself.
    Challenge: A. This isn't so much the same event several times as two complementary events alternating several times. Hope that's OK.


    Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil--

    Why am I doing this?

    I can't see nor breathe and, to be sure, am doomed; and that is what we do.

    But thy rod and thy staff they comfort me no more. Thou leftest me the moment I tasted her.

    In the dark I see suffering. Women, children, crazed with torment and agony. I shiver with relish.

    I rip the velvet ceiling and touch the pine, scratch it, my fingernails raw.

    Here I am, hopelessly confined. Then why am I so free?


    I won't get up today. I will lie here in this wood, curled up around my pain.

    Not metaphorical pain, either. Last night it burnt, today it stings.

    I'm glad it happened. This is me. Stinging all over and smarting with empathy. It's a faculty, just like hearing. A survival tool. Yesterday I was deaf. Couldn't hear the cries. Today I cry along.

    I should thank them. I killed their daughter and they rewarded me. I know they meant it as a punishment. But I will use it to the good.

    Tomorrow. Today I will lie here in this wood.


    Oh no. Oh no. Oh no?

    Oh yes!

    A downpour doesn't reduce the scent. Or the feel. Of fear. I felt it before, around, always. But it tasted acrid.

    I hold this strange woman, and just before her blood, I taste her fear. Warm and spicy for the first time in exactly a hundred years.

    I'm elsewhere as I drink. I'm back to last night. I'm tonight. Facing my sweet Slayer's wretched eyes, the hurt on her face when I toy with her. It's as vivifying as this red gush down my throat.

    This is true happiness, not last night.


    I blink my eyes. She's here.

    I slept. For months. A coma. Yes. That makes sense. Explains this feeling the world's carried on without me. Hence this sword in her hand. And? You have nightmares while in a coma, right? Atrocious, bloody, sadistic, beastly nightmares. Right?

    Doesn't matter. All that matters is her embrace. I love her because her touch is as good as she is. Midas. She turns even me into gold.

    I can smell Hell. We do that. But she kisses me, so I'm not worried.

    The excruciating stab of metal through my chest.

    I must deserve it.


    The idiots! The amazingly mindless, freakishly boneheaded morons! They actually removed it!

    Every two centuries, bump into some cheapo Beelzebub and bingo: saved by the Beast.

    Well, that's all well and good but? Got my work cut out. There's that new pup, brains-on-twigs. Start with her. Then her boyfriend, then her wooer. IN THAT ORDER. Then? Hm, tough call. The son or the sweetheart? Normally I'd just save the best for last. But she's his sweetheart too, so him watching her disembowelment could be lovely.

    Anyway, gotta act fast. The damn thing's still in the hotel, I can sense it.


    First the son. My love for him: bam!

    The witch is good. Again.

    And Slayers? They just can't stop saving me.

    I've come to like the sting. It goes after a while. But the high stays. I brood, and I scowl, and I mope. But half the time I'm high. On humanness.

    I know I'm not human. And, God knows, I know I'm not good. Should I forget, it reminds me with a vengeance. But I feel what humans feel. I care, I love that species like it were my own.

    And that's worth all the guilt in the world.
    "I'd like to keep Spike as my pet."
    "Get out of my temporal lobe, House!"