by backfromspace

It's three AM Saturday morning and I haven't breathed since Wednesday. You'll have to forgive me if this is a little surreal.

Remember what you told me, once upon a time? Once upon a time. The pithyness of that phrase always got to me. What exactly is a "time", anyway? How can you be on it? Who came up with it? Were they just trying to fuck with our heads, or did it have a point?

Anyway. What you told me, once upon a time. You dragged it out, as I recall, so it's only fair if I do the same to you. You told me... oh, so many things. About love and lust and the American Way. About that One Thing with Gunn that you never wanted to discuss. You told me too much about yourself. I wonder why you couldn't seem to resist it?

I'd ask you to forgive me for slipping off-topic, but I know you've already forgiven me for everything. Well, that's great. Don't I get a choice in my own salvation anymore? What if I don't want to be forgiven? What if knowing that someone, somewhere, was harboring a grudge against me was the only thing that kept me alive that long?

I'm a creature of a different age, Wes. My kind thrives on animosity. Hell, I made my living off of it, in more ways than one. You want irony? There it is.

But you never were one for irony, were you. I tried that thing with the lipstick and the mirror, you know. Traditional. Thought you'd appreciate it. Turns out lipstick doesn't help with the writer's block. But then again, I always do my best work when I haven't slept.

Remember when you tried to save me? You were always trying to save me. You never did figure out that some things just aren't meant to be salvaged. That thing about being from a different age? I meant it. People like me don't do so well with metamorphosis. It's much better to leave us alone. When we care about other people it... complicates things. Complications aren't - weren't - a thing I could afford.

I shouldn't have come back. My self-preservation was screaming that at me. "Go to Iowa! Chicago! Des Moines! Anywhere no one will know you and you can be safe!" But that thing you gave me - what's it called - oh yes, a hero complex. My hero complex made me come back.

I wanted to save your life. Just to show you how little it means.

The funny thing is, it worked.

So tell me, Wesley. Do you love me, now that you owe me? Now that there's nothing left for you to save?


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