::Sunnydale, any random day::
"Just, um. Why don't you try to tell me what happened, maybe…"
"I was at this concert, ok? It was 3 months ago. This chick my girlfriend dug. I was dating a banshee, see, a real sweet thing, but she loved the depressing music. Helped her cry, to send humans into madness and stuff. So we're sitting there, middle seats, and this woman just opens her mouth and starts singing about some other broken-hearted chick she's banging named Adrea or something, and BAM! My eyes feel like they're on fire and the guy next to us is praising his drugs and I feel like I've been jumped with a semi-truck. All this pain, from everywhere, eating you up inside, my girlfriend's screaming and which means all the humans start screaming too, and –it's so awful. You couldn't imagine. Constant ever since. The pain, all the time, the hurt and fear and self-loathing."
"Have, have you ever thought about, well, helping people? That might make you feel better. Like, trying improve things?"
"Improve things? I killed a cat yesterday! What kind of monster eats his neighbor's cat? I can't improve anything! I'm DAMNED, DON'T YOU SEE! It's awful; I destroyed everything I ever touch, and my girlfriend dumped me, and she was evil and I still loved her even though that makes me even more of a wretched person, and I can't even stomach cow blood now, and… no. No, I can't take it anymore, Slayer. I can't live like this!"
Before Buffy could move he'd thrown himself onto her still outstretched stake, and crumbled into nothingness. The oldest Summers girl looked hard at the dust-covered piece of wood for a while, then sighed and slumped her shoulders. Willow came bounding up from behind the cherub statue, a tentative smile on her face.
"Hey Buff, sorry it took me so long," she said, and held up a white and pink paper bag appreciatively. "There's that new Baskin Robbins across the street and I thought some mint with chocolately good chips sounded swell right about now. Did I just see what I thought I was seeing?"
Buffy nodded, motioned with the stake. "Vampire was caught hunting squirrels. Vampire cried. Vampire suicided."
The red head scrunched up her cheeks and made a grimacing noise under her breath. "What happened?"
"Sarah McLachlan concert in L.A back in August."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed, and they stood in a moment of silence, looking at the grass.
A bird warbled once in the still, silent air of night.
"So," the Slayer chirped up excitedly, making a playful grab for the ice cream bag, "Whadd'ya get me?"
Octipedingenue, also known as Kawcrow, has this great LJ icon. It says: "Every time Sarah McLachlan sings, a vampire gets his soul." How could I resist?