Title: What Came Before
It is hard to remember a time without demons. When I try very hard I can picture a dirty little town, hardly a town really. It was a few houses with straw roofs; there was a meeting hall, and well I suppose that really it was just a tavern. Today it would be a tavern, then it was the center of our village. It was where Olaf went each night. He would go there to ogle the wenches and listen to them joke about me. ‘Oh funny Aud.’ The things they said about me you would not believe. To be a woman in Sjornjost then was worse than a nightmare because I was really there. There with the trolls and the unfaithful men. I watched as the man I loved and slaved after was drawn into their lies about me, he believed them enough to go to this Rannveig wench. He did not see the real me...the me that Xander saw. Olaf turned his back on me. That was when the dabbling started.
I started with simple spells, multiplying rabbits and such. That got out of control fairly quick. Then came the breakthrough. The Thornton’s Hope spell, add Eelsbane and voila...instant Troll. D’Hoffryn was impressed enough to give me the title of Anyanka, I became the vengeance demon. And now nearly twelve hundred years later, D’Hoffryn is out to get me. D’Hoffryn has plans to kill me, and not in a you’re going to lose your powers, again, kind of way. He killed Halfrek instead of me for a reason. He has a plan and I think it involves me ending up a big ball of fire.
Now I find myself remembering what came before more often. I long for that thatch roofed cottage. I miss the dirty benches and the stench of spilt mead. The things I miss most now, in this hellhole of a town, are the simple things, mothers and fathers, filthy little children running around screaming with joy. Sunnydale is a miserable place to spend eternity, I am still a demon and I hate it here...
I think I can almost feel what it was like to be human in the back of my throat. I can taste my mother’s cooking and I have a vivid memory of drinks that were thin and bitter, not the bland drinks I get now. Not the thick salted blood that I still crave. I remember cold London nights, going from party to party trying to follow the crowds, trying to be let in. Trying to fit into their preconceived idea of what it meant to be a gentleman. Wanting to fit into their world, knowing I was a good man. I was never violent, rarely cross. I took their abuse; listened to the insults they would hurl at me. ‘Oh silly William.’ The ways they taunted me, calling me William the Bloody. And then there was Cecily, beautiful girl, so very much what I thought I wanted. She would have been the perfect wife, if only she had seen...what? Seen what Drusilla saw? A trembling man in an alleyway. That was when it began.
Life took an unexpected detour, I became the vampire. There were decades of bloody murder. People screaming for mercy and finding none. Together with my unholy family we took life without abandon. We never sought refuge from the evil that was housed within us. We courted it like a craved lover, welcomed it into our lives.
Life never ends now, not ever. There is no end to the pain that comes now. There is no hope that what came before will come again. The voices that haunt me, the faces that stare at me no matter how hard I try to look away, they will remain. Now all of my victims, my prey, they stalk me, as I am the hunted. That will never end now, I will remain the hunted, I will spend the rest of eternity with the voices and the urge. The need to feed so great it consumes. Buffy will watch over me even though she cannot bare the most benign touch from my hand. She will guard me, making sure I live to face the torments the Hellmouth still has to give me. She let me wallow in the hunger, she will let me live here, in this place I hate...
Copyright Tania 2002
Violators will be forced to watch their exes have sex on a table via laptop