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“It's getting to the point where I'm no fun anymore.
I am sorry, sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud.
I am lonely, I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are.
And you make it hard.
Remember what we've said and done and felt about each other.
Oh babe, have mercy.
Don't let the past remind us of what we are, not now.
Tearing yourself away from me now, you are free and I am crying.
This does not mean I don't love you.
I do, that's forever, yes, and for always.”
- Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes”

* * *
It's amazing how tangled a straightforward situation can turn out to be. If I wasn't the restless sort, I might have never questioned what you wanted me to do. But I've got a curious streak a mile wide and twice as deep. It's gotten me into trouble more times than I can count and even saved my sorry ass once or twice. This time though, it just mucked the whole sodden thing up more.

I used to love doing research once upon a time. Hard to believe? I don't blame you for your doubt, after all you've only ever known a part of me. But once, I was a scholar and a gentlemen to boot. Before your brain bursts from this sudden revelation I'll comfort you with the knowledge that I no longer enjoy it the way I used too. Despite all of eternity stretching out in front of me I just can't seem to sit still long enough to do it properly. So I avoid it like the plague. Except for this once, when it was just me and I had no other options. I'll spare you the boring details; one research montage is pretty much identical to all the others. Just picture it in your mind if you will, me in various stages of attractive dishevelment, growing closer to the truth in proportion to the books and dead library goers piling up around me. All this, of course, done to the tune of some appropriate eighties tunes. Perhaps something by the Clash, or Billy Idol.

Yes, I know, my sense of humor never fails to leave you in stitches on the inside. That's where it counts after all. I bet that despite your stoicism you're dying to let out a chuckle. No? Well perhaps I'll just cut to the chase.

Turns out there was a lot more to the story than I'd originally been told. Surprising, right? However could Ripper the Liohearted have led me astray? Sins of omission are funny, slippery things. That, and by counting on the fact that I'd gladly wade ass-deep in alligators for Buffy. In some ways I really am too predictable. Perhaps the next time around, if there is a next time around, I'll work more on acting like I don't give a rat's ass. I'm not sure it would've made a difference in the end in this case.

Yes, yes, you're tired of hearing about my troubles. You might have wanted to be the cause of them but you never counted on dealing with the fallout. Not that it matters much but I wasn't really counting on finding out too much about this Construct. After all, if it was as arcane as imagined and if the Watcher's coveted it so much then I figured the story was likely moldering in some Council archive. For the most part, I was correct. There was devastatingly little to be found. A few references here and there over the years but nothing specific, nothing to let me know what this weapon of your could or couldn't do. But then, one day I came across a story.

You'd like to hear this one then? Finally, a spark of interest in that tea-addled brain of yours. Well, I was planning on telling you Rupert, old chum, but this is one secret I think I'll keep to myself. Tit for tat, see? I don't show mine if you won't play fair. How does it feel to be on the receiving end for once? You can roll your eyes all you want, but I can see that the curiosity is already beginning to eat you up alive. It's small recompense in the grand scheme of things but there's only so much I can do to get back to you. So you're just going to have to allow me my petty revenge.

Consider yourself lucky. What I'd really like to do to you would make that little episode with Angelus seem like bloody heaven.

It's not the ship that stops me though. I want you dead bad enough, I'd risk the brain damage or scare up some other nasties to do my dirty work for me. No, what really stops me is the fact that Buffy wouldn't like it, wouldn't understand it. And I love her too much to let her down any more than I already have. So, you'll continue to breath and I'll sit here and continue to talk at you while I imagine crushing your skull between my bare hands while feeding your entrails to something appropriately nasty.

It's not perfect but it'll have to do, just like every other damn thing in my long sorry life.


Chapter End Notes:
Thank you so much to everybody who has reviewed the story so far. I hope you keep enjoying the story.



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