By: Tazzy
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em but wish I did…
Spoilers: After Spike’s chipped but before Dawn.
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
Look at ‘em. Sittin’ around an’ actin’ like they’ve got nothin’ ta fear from me. Sure, I’ve got a chip in me head that won’t let me hurt th’ bloody humans, but that doesn’t mean I’m helpless. An’ they think they know me so well. All they see is the Big Bad with his fangs pulled. Okay, so I threatened to kill ‘em all a couple of times and nearly succeeded a few, but they’re still here and I’m an effin’ vampire for Hell’s sake! What did they expect, an invitation to tea and crumpets?
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
Labels are so easy to put on people an’ so hard to take off. They don’t see the painfully shy poet that was nicknamed William the Bloody Awful Poet. They only see William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, an’ part of the Scourge of Europe. I was all of those, still am in some regard, but I’m also much more. I am Love’s Bitch and I watch and observe, a habit left over from being a shy human. I also have dreams an’ hopes an’ wishes an’ regrets, but they don’t see those. They only see the vampire, the mask that I show to the world.
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
It would be so easy to just stand up durin’ one of their little “Research Sessions” an’ just rip inta all of ‘em. Tear off those masks that they present ta th’ world an’ show each other what they really are. But that would only get me a chunk of wood through the heart if I was lucky or a sound thrashin’ at the hands of both Slutty an’ Ripper if I wasn’t. So I pull my masks around me when they start ta tease an’ belittle me, actin’ like the Big Bad, that nothin’ can hurt me. Not lettin’ them see the pain their words cause, draggin’ up memories of tryin’ ta impress th’ woman I loved with poetry that I tried desperately to make worthy of her only ta have her an’ her so called friends throw it back in me face.
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
My dreams are simple. I wish that Darla had been staked over a century ago. I wish Angelus had never gone to Romania and snacked on that gypsy. I wish I had my sire back. I wish Angel looked at me with somethin’ other than guilt, disgust, an’ anger in his eyes. But, I think Hell has a better chance of freezin’ over than any of m’ wishes comin’ true. Angelus was off his rocker when the curse was broken last time, an’ Angel can’t look at me without rememberin’ what his demon an’ I had together. I’m just another reminder of his “penance” an’ guilt.
When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
They think they know me so well. All of them. The Witch sees a poor defenseless puppy who’s all bark an’ no bite. The Whelp sees someone he can take his frustration out on without getting’ himself killed. Slutty sees a deadly enemy chained an’ broken. The Watcher doesn’t wanna see anythin’ or he might get thinkin’ about his mate that he use to summon demons with. Not one sees the shy poet desperate to convey his feelings in any way possible, the demon who tried anything and everything to make dark Irish eyes smile, the lover who cared and nursed for over a century before being abandoned, and the vampire who will be the death of them when this chip stops working…
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
By: The Who