Here I am- Chapter 2- "Opposites"

Kill. Destroy. Hurt. No, don't hurt anymore nothing should hurt--could--ever again. That was what she must do and she would do it. It was all so clear, like coming up out of a pool your cousins pushed you down in for wicked long and you came up and breathed like you were doing it for the first time. You had to kill them. Kill them all. That was the only thing that made it stop. Stopping, it was the only way you could live. But, you couldn't live not ever. But, you couldn't stop, not ever. Never stop to stop it. Everything was all the same. Opposites, death, life, good, evil, desire, sacrifice, Slayer, vampire: they all were the same so they erased each other. Objects turned into what you wanted them to be, what you needed. A hair brush was a sword, her fists blood. Screaming nonsense was talking about how it all made sense:

"Head and heart. Don't stop until there's dust. Dusts, fists, speed. Slayer is a vampire, a vampire is a demon. Slayer is a demon. The Demon must die. Cut its head off, that'll kill it."

She held the sword to her/the demon's neck and kept hitting/slicing for the blade to go through. She had done this before, killed an evil Slayer, herself, or maybe she hadn't. Didn't matter. It was all the same.

"No, love. No, you aren't a vampire. She didn't get you."

Talking gently, not hurting, tackling, holding, crushing, hit or being hit the same. Hurting, hurting, hurting…

Him, with golden white halo hair was a vampire that would give her everything. Pleasure that was so begging-for-more good it came around to begging to stop or go, pain, terror, and death. Opposites.

"She'll never get you. I've got you. I love you."

"Hate!" she cried and laughed, "Know you, know you hate."

Arms around her like death, not letting go, never letting go. Pummels inside/outside, Slayer Killer/Lover, riding so hard to break in Heaven/Hell. Love you…

"Hate you," she hissed and felt the arms loosen and hit the tender hard face.

"That's it, hate me. Hit me. I'm the bloody demon. The vampire!"

Him, now wore a vampire face, but it didn't go together. Not opposites/not the same. She looked at the golden white/red blood man/demon with her eyes widening and squinting, her head straight and tilted and he wouldn't wash clean. Like Yeager puke on your only pair of black jeans. Like your only doll stained with mom's constant party waste. Not fair! Those were her only jeans, her only toy, all she ever wanted.

"I fucked you up. I ruined you," she said.

"No, baby," he said, "I'm built for getting bloody. I heal. I heal but you do it better than me. Better than anyone. You've gotten so much better already. Now you just have--"

"Better than you. Better than anyone," she smiled; he wasn't ruined, "Under me and over me all the time. Holding The Slayer in place."

"Well," he smiled, face broken up, opposites all true, happy/sad, impressed/disappointed love/hate with her, all with her, "I never quite put it that way."

She pounced on him and laughed because he now made a less broken face that made him look like a sad doll with sharp edges. Bodies together. But, with that face she could see how he was separate from the place around them, the room. She liked this room it smelled like orange spice tea and Marlborough like:

"Home, flavor country," she laughed.

"Yes, we're home and--do you want a smoke?" he asked.

She shook her head "You," she laughed and then her brain went side-ways like a shit-eating grin.

"Know, you," she snickered, "You're that vampire, asshole, Sweet-on-Her."

Names tasted too bad to come out. She could just say the letters or something else different.

"Don't call me that, that Sweet on--" he made a silly sour face under her.

"I much prefer 'asshole' to the latter, love. Can we just go with 'asshole?' I 'm not sweet on he--I 'm sweet on you now. You got that. I'd say just call me 'Sweet' but there's a bugger of a demon who fancies musicals that already has--"

She touched his soft/hard spot and he made a new broken face. He bent down under her like clay. She laughed. He was a riot. Serious killing machine. Safe. Cold but so warm.

Desires were reality. She ran her hands on his black shirt and he pulled it up and the shirt was gone, it became skin. He pulled his arms around her soft too. She licked up his chest and ran his hands over it. It tasted good, but felt sad.

"Soft and hard. Opposite and the same, whole and broken inside," she said.

"I'll fix it," he whispered, "Just give me time. We're making progress, getting it together. Now that you're talking---"

"No more talking. It makes your mouth sad. Taste me like poems," she said.

"All right," he said and he cupped his mouth around her and it sucked her insides in and made them all cool and soft.

"Oooew," she said as her mouth smacked away, "Wicked cool! Again."

He smacked his lips all over her face and it made her laugh.

"No," she laughed and he did too. He was a silly little puppy, "Again on the mouth and pull."

"Keep telling me what's inside of you, what you want, and I'll make it happen. Then, they'll be no stopping you."

He kissed her pulling and tasted and licked to be tasted. This time she had been waiting. Opposite/Sameness came back in a tidal wave. Weak/strong, want/have, take/give. Her body knew its purpose and so did his.

"Talk to me," he needed no breath and breathed hard as she kissed and felt.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

He tilted her back on top of him and she felt the hard floor slowly pushing into her knees.

"Make it soft," she said and she laughed when he wrinkled his forehead up all confused.

"Hard," she said hitting the floor, "Make it soft under me like you."

She saw him start to smile, but before it could finish he was kissing, pulling, caressing, cupping her as her wrapped her body around his and they floated up as he stood. She felt something soft and firm under her whole body. A bed. He made that? She knew she was forgetting her mission. Kill the vampires, the demons. But, she couldn't find any. The one inside took off somewhere scared, so she wasn't scared, wasn't a demon.

"Keep telling me what you want," he said right in her ear and then wiggled his tongue inside.

"You remember this?" he asked and did it again and stopped and said, "Tell me."

She remembered this. She shivered and made a noise. She remembered shivering and making noises and wanting to die, but this was the opposite. It didn't matter if it sounded the same.

"Remember," she said as she gripped him and his hands ran down her body, "The same and opposite."

"You remember the first time, don't you? How good it was, even when we were falling apart. I remember a lot more and I can use it to put you back together. I know just how to make you feel so good, but I still want you to tell me. You want more?"

"More," she could feel her heart racing but she wasn't scared.

She pressed his lips to his and his hands stopped traveling down her body. Before she could object her wet spot felt free with air. He had pulled the clothes away to softness. His hands were outside her basement where it flooded and dripped and tingled and puckered like her mouth as they kissed.

"Meet me in the basement," she said and pushed his fingers inside of her.

"Yes, you remember this," he whispered and touched and didn't touch stopped and went. Opposites touched, moved, stood still, separated. She went inside out. This wasn't what a Slayer was and it was everything a Slayer was. It was feeling nothing bad everything good, slowly building all at once. It was being strong and screaming soft and deep.

"I'm the only one that could do this with two fingers and get five stars, you said. Not that you would remember saying that. That was a different world."

"Remember a different world," she yelped and sounded sad, but she was so happy.

Holding him down to keep him up. She whimpered and screamed hard and ugly now, and felt beautiful. She remembered mouths, fangs, his mouth everywhere. He kissed her face and she had some tears and laughed so hard.

"I know you. You're from the basement," she laughed, "Came down to you. You wanted me."

"Yes," he gasped, "You remember. You remember I was in Bu--You remember."

He had gotten too soft now. Stopped everything. She had scared him, but she remembered they both had been scared before.

"Shhh," she said, "It's okay. It will only hurt for a second, then you'll start to like it. I promise it gets better the second time. You burned. She hurt you, but you came back. You're a Champ, Sweet-on-Her."

"Don't call me---Never mind me!" he pushed out his chin; he was still scared, "I could give a rat's ass if you stopped getting these fun facts about me that have sod all to do with you."

"Tell me about you," he whispered pleading, "Who are you? Tell me you know who you are."

"I'm not The Slayer, but I am. Should protect, but I kill. Should kill, but I protect," she said and her voice was only flat.

"No, you are The Slayer. The only living true Chosen One. Tell me," he demanded.

This again. She was getting bored. She sighed.

"Sleek and sharp Mary. Goes to school, eats her vegetables. They all squeeze her so tight. They don't know they break her, but she can take it. Take it and kill and live. Salon fresh. Mom loves the good girl so she bought her killer princess hair. The family is so proud it makes you puke. She's the bonnie." she told him.

"No," Brit shook his head. The Watcher was bummed. She had to try harder.

"Not her. I don't want he--I want you. You know that. You must know that. What can I--Tell me who you are!"

The frustrated Watcher, shakes her shoulders, her head is the snow globe. He wants to see the South Boston exhausted colored snow fall. He rattles her chains. That's what boss man Watchers do. She does it back worse. Shows him her teeth disguised as a smile.

"Oh, this one. Dirty stupid whore," she answers, "She gets detention, swallows principals. Naturally, they let dirty girl drowned, push her down. There's no time to bathe her, tuck her in. She wouldn't stay in bed so mom fell down a lot 'till she couldn't get up again."

She sat back on the bottoms of her bare feet. She's had this question on tests before with cute Brits. He really seemed to care about the answer. This time she smiled because she knew she was getting it right. She would blow him away; please him. She'll use a line she heard somewhere. They like stuff spit at them they've already chewed.

"I don't think a woman's really a woman unless she's a blond, you know?" she couldn't hold the smile, "Brown hair all dirty against spun gold. That's why I'm dead. Did you kill me? I think it was you."

Definitely bored now. She dove on him and it felt better on the soft bed he made. She was on top of Sweet-on-her and she was going to touch him and not touch him all day and make sure he didn't get scared. She had to protect and not kill, or kill and not protect. It was the same.

"No!" he grumbled, but he was always mad and never really mad. She remembered that, knew it, liked it.

She was rolled on the bottom but wasn't it really the top? She went to push him forward knowing he'd bend like clay. But, she felt his arm push her down, but it became a strap. His hand pushed up on her chest and it felt sore, but it really clawed at her and scraped jaggedly along her insides for everything. Or was it the opposite?

"Tell me who you really are! Tell me, Faith!"

Faith? There was a blond vampire who had strapped her down to a table and teased her and clawed out everything. She wasn't the perfect girl anymore that Faith would die to save. She was nothing, and that meant faith was nothing. Nothing but death and pain and trapped and…No faith! No more faith ever again.

She screamed and screamed and fought with everything, nothing. She was about to twist the vampire's head off when it screamed: "No!"

And she saw its face and it wasn't that blond nothing-girl vampire at all but… Something heavy as a wrecking ball held her on one side while she quickly got held down on the other with a group of little weights to make up one big one.

"Don't do it!" the very bloody halo haired Sweet-on-Her said.

Suddenly she felt it, that horrible pinch that ended before she could fight. NO! NO! NO! It was happening again. She threw off the wrecking ball weight and the group of the others, kicking and hitting as hard as she could at them. She felt to the floor too scared to scream or breathe. She heard a horrible sound like an animal being killed and she saw people around her. Some were bloody like Sweet-on-her and one of them just laid there eyes open looking dead, but maybe it was worse and they did it to him , the thing they just did to her. It would take a second to take, like all things they did to her she didn't want to talk about. But she had to talk now.

"Please," she struggled to say to them. The paralyzing brain folding juice was already working; at least when she talked the dying animal stopped crying.

The blonde vampire nothing girl wasn't there. They were all men. The vamp bitch had sold her, pimped her. No! She could still feel her soul. There was still time. Had to be weak to be strong or strong to be--all opposites had to be true for anything to be true.

"No! Please let me out. I'll do anything. I--I can't sit frozen in the room alone. It's not a living cell. It's frozen solid. It shrinks to nothing! Please, don't let me out to be with them alone!" she begged them.

"It's not what you think, Faith," her new/old pussy/rugged Watcher was one of the men.

"You're not in The Infinity Room. They didn't inject you with Eternal Depravation. It's just a sedative. You'll sleep and be with Spike."

She went to her knees and hugged her old Watcher's legs. Master was servant. Didn't it always go opposite like that?

"NO! NO! I'll be good. Please, don't flush me away. I'm not a piece of--"

Yelling interrupted her. Fucking rage. Fear. Fear. Fear.

"Buggering, Sod! Are you out of you're mind? You shouldn't come in here at all, let alone with a hypodermic. If you ever do it again you're going to wish you lived in my time-line where you became numb from the waist down. She saved your life there, Pryce. She saved all of you."

"Right, and as I've told you," Watcher voice, disgusted, "I'm trying to save hers. When Buff--when the vampire injected her and left her in--"

"--those bloody rooms I got her out in time. But, not in this buggering time-line. In this time-line I bollixed it up and SHE threw her in there for hours and made it so I couldn't--I tried to get to her. I punched my sodding hands to pulp. You were the one that got her out with sodding magic," voice so mad and scared, "And it's not that I want to appear ungrateful but every time you come in here like Captain Jack, she thinks that her body is being taken down there. She thinks her mind is going to Hell. She thinks her soul---She thinks I'll turn her into a vampire because that's what the bitch wan--"

She had to fight. So afraid, whore. So fucking afraid, bitch. She heard the screams of the fighting dying animal again. She called to him the only one she could see blurry and sliding.

"S-Sweet! Sweet! Sweet-on-Her!" she screamed.

"I'll be the worst. The best. You bite; I suck," she warned/begged him, "Five by five counts down to nothing. The rocks I stand on shrink to less than zero. Frozen inside! Evil again. Please, kill me. Please--"

"It's all right, love. It's all right, "she could hear him, blurry, "I'd never hurt you."

Fucker. He betrayed her. She was alone, always alone.

"Kill me!" she cried. He was touching her.

"No!" he said.

She fought in the blurry to run. She felt firm cold hands pull her off the floor from behind. She could feel that this wasn't a man or a demon. They were strong and angry and knocked everyone away. Cold and faraway hands, but there. They knew her good. They knew Faith. Oh, Faith knew who this was. And oh, she was going to be pissed. Wicked pissed. She'd get the shit beat out of her.

"Faith, you must stop this behavior. This isn't the way a superior warrior would act," she said in that stupid fake voice she saved for when Faith bratted-out in public.

She didn't want Faith. She'd hunt her down like a dog. She hated her and loved her.

"I'm sorry, Ma. I had some shots. Only some turned into half a bottle," Faith sighed, but then she got pissed too, "Figured I'd start drinking and passing out early just like y--"

Faith felt herself fall. Only instead of being kicked to get up the cold skinny arms were around her, holding her, not dragging her. Holding Faith right for once.

"Just what I needed," a voice spoke Faith's thoughts out loud like Johnny Rotten, "The Ice-Queen Bitch Goddess."

Then there was the black again.


To Be Continued Soon... Thanks to SusanAngel