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I wonder if even Faith knows what it's like to be with someone like Spike. She fucked so many guys, used them like tissue and then threw them out. Human guys. Even Faith had to hold back or she would have killed them.

With Spike, I don't have to hold back. I can let myself go and not worry about crushing his ribs, breaking his bones, bruising his flesh. I don't even worry about hurting his feelings. I can do anything with Spike.

Even handcuffs. Chained to his bed. Spike on top of me, in me. Me helpless to resist anything he wanted to do. I knew it was pretend. Faith and I fought handcuffed together. She was able to break the chain between the cuffs and free herself. If I wanted I know I could do the same.

So I know the handcuffs were mostly pretend. If he had tried…what…to kill me, feed on me, turn me, make me say "I love you," I probably could have stopped him. Probably. But the idea that I was completely in his power, it was an aphrodisiac. Not that Spike's flesh isn't already.

The next day my wrists were sore and the marks hadn't completely healed. I was ashamed thinking about it, ashamed I had let him degrade me that way. I remember trying to hide the marks from Tara when I talked to her. The marks from me fighting the cuffs, writhing, not in pain, but in pleasure.

I hate this. Wanting him. Wanting him. Using him. Hurting him. I've tried to stop that. The first night, in that house, we marked each other up pretty badly. I'm tough. He's tough too but we both looked like we had been beaten with more than flesh. Cut and bruised and limping. It takes a lot to damage us but I could barely walk from him pounding himself into my pelvis. Just thinking about it now and I feel the tissues between my legs engorge.

He's never marked me again. But I have him. At least I leave him less damaged these days. I try to take a little care. But I still…hurt him. I like to hurt him. He lets me. All my slayer powers are made to hurt and kill. I have to keep all that locked up the rest of the time. Under control. But not with Spike. With Spike…I can...lose control.

I'm wrong. Wrong. WRONG. WRONG! The things I do to him. The things I let him do to me. Wwwwrong.

I let him take me upstairs at the Bronze. In the dark. Watching Xander and Anya and Willow below dancing. He whispered in my ear, his hands reached behind me, pulled up my skirt, his fingers slipping under my panties, up into my flesh.

Stop.

But he knew that's not what I wanted. He spread my legs and pushed me forward and pushed himself inside me.

Aaaaah.

I can't belong with him in the dark. I can't. I belong in the light with my friends. But he's not there. He's in the dark pressing his cock into me. God no. All this is wrong.

I had to stop. I had to get myself back. I would go patrolling and end up at his door. Stand against it imagining what he would do to me if I pushed it open. His fingers pushing the buttons open, pushing inside my clothes, pushing my legs open, pushing inside me, stroking my skin, in my hair, between my legs, rubbing, knowing just where, just what to do to make me lose myself.

You don't know what it's like, being the Slayer. Having all that strength and that power and having to control yourself, to never let yourself be swept away with passion, to never really let yourself go. With Spike I can let go.

All the guys I've been with. Angel. With Angel, it was sweet. He was so easy with me. He was trying so hard not to hurt me, to be tender. Looking back, it was pitiful. I didn't come. He only came once. We barely wrinkled the sheets.

It must have seemed better than that to Angel because he lost his soul over it. Maybe it was some kind of fetish he had, a taste for innocence. Dru was an innocent when he took her.

I knew Angel wasn't as good as my dreams but I thought we would be doing it again. A lot. And that it would get better. But I woke up and he was gone. It was raining outside and lightening flashes were making like a monster movie and thunder was shaking the house. The sheets were cold.

When Angel made fun of that night, made fun of me, I was hurt but I wasn't really surprised. Only later did I realize he wasn't himself. That wasn't Angel. Angel would never have said those things to me. Not even if they were true.

Spike now, Spike would. If he was trying to hurt me. If he was angry. If we were fighting. But I wouldn't believe him. I'd think of the look on his face when he touches me, when his dick touches me, touches me outside, then inside, deeper, deeper, deeper, stroke, in, out, my legs linked around his back or folded up along his sides, or over his shoulders, while he drops himself into me, pounds my cervix with the head of his cock, hard flesh over bone rubbing my clitoris and his eyes watching my face to see how I'm liking it. If Spike told me I wasn't good, it wasn't good for him, I'd laugh. I might punch him but first I'd laugh and remember his face.

I can't remember Angel's face as he came inside me. I just remember waking up alone and cold and hearing the rain.

Then there was Parker. Parker hurt me. Made me feel worthless and used. Now I do the using.

Riley. I really wanted it to work with Riley. I wanted to be normal. I wanted a normal life, a normal guy, normal sex, a normal relationship. He wasn't quite normal with that Initiative crap in his chest and the drugs in his bloodstream. But he was normal enough. Captain Cardboard Spike called him. Potato sex. I did like it with Riley. I liked it some. I would close my eyes and…pretend it was Angel.

I would listen to my body as hard as I could when Riley touched me, trying to make it like it was in my dreams, trying to feel what I thought I should feel. But I always had to hold back to keep from hurting him. Even before the chip came out, before the drugs stopped. I'm the Slayer. If I had wrapped my legs around him and lost it during sex and squeezed, I would have broken his back. I feel sorry about Riley. I wanted that to work. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be normal.

Normal. What is normal? It's not fucking in a crypt, fucking under a rug, leaving your lover's body tatooed with marks of pain. It's not wanting someone who's evil, who's everything the world fears.

If they found out I'd be so ashamed. Xander would be the worst. He would be sick. And without knowing…details. Willow is fighting her addiction but I give into mine. She would be disgusted. Anya would smirk and look pleased. Dawn would be angry, knowing I was spending time with Spike instead of her.

Spending time with Spike. Him handcuffed while I pour hot wax on his flesh and he winces in pain. Spike moaning as I take his flesh in my teeth and bite down. Spike panting as I ride him like he's my personal sex toy. Punching him. Kicking him in the head. Refusing to …talk to him. He wants…what? Spike wants to love me. He wants...hearts and flowers. He wants…possession. He wants me to stand before my friends and say "Boyfriend" or he wants to pull me into the dark and never let me leave, let me leave, never leave, never stop, stop, never stop.

Then Katrina. I heard a scream and went running. I was so glad I had someone to rescue, some reason to run away from Spike's crypt, some fight to keep me from pressing myself into his flesh, from surrendering to his perversions. And mine.

I went running.

I thought I would be able to let go, fight and win and feel good about myself. But things went crazy weird, like a dream. Things happening out of order, and again. Demons coming at me and then disappearing. Spike finding me when I'd tried to escape him. Me striking out and hitting him again and again. Fighting the demons then striking someone I thought was Katrina and seeing her roll down that hill. Then there she was. Dead and still and it was my fault. Her death became part of everything I had been doing that was wrong.

Spike got me home.

Home to my bed. Home to my dreams of Spike and Katrina. Dreams where the things I did with Spike, to Spike became confused with what I thought I had done to Katrina. Spike helpless as I staked him in his sleep. Katrina with the stake in her chest, her eyes open and accusing.

It was all my fault, all my fault because I'm wrong. The way I hurt Spike. The way I hurt Katrina. I'm wrong. Wrong.

I needed to be punished. I needed someone to stop me from doing those things with Spike, to stop me from doing those things to Spike or someday he might be dead underneath me.

The police. The police would punish me. Punish me for killing Katrina. Punish me for Spike. The police would stop me from fucking Spike, from hurting Spike, from staking Spike. I was wrong. I needed to be locked away the way they locked Faith away. The police would help me. They would stop me from being wrong.

Spike tried to stop me. I needed to be punished but he wouldn't let me. He pulled me back. He stood in my way. When I hit him he said…"That's my girl." I'M NOT HIS GIRL. I'm Angel's girl. None of the things I've done with Spike count. Only that night with Angel counts. How dare he. CALL. ME. HIS. GIRL. I AM NOT YOUR GIRL! (I am no one's girl). YOU DON'T HAVE A SOUL (I don't have a soul). YOU ARE DEAD INSIDE (I only feel alive with this dead thing inside me). YOU CAN'T FEEL ANYTHING REAL (Please God, don't let any of this be real). I COULD NEVER BE YOUR GIRL.

I hit him. Again and again. And he let me. As he always lets me. I believe he would let me stake him if he thought it would give me peace. I hit him until the shame at what I was doing hit me. I hit him until there were tears running down my face and blood running down his face and then I was running away and leaving him.

The police were busy.

I stood in the middle of the floor waiting for them to be finished with their business so they could start on the business of punishing me. Then I heard Katrina's name and flashed back to Warren and knew I hadn't killed her. I hadn't killed her. Whatever else I had done I hadn't killed an innocent.

I pushed everything else out of my mind and fled. I went home. Later at the Magic Box I told my friends what had happened (part of what had happened). I forget what I did the rest of the day. Maybe I went to work. Maybe I didn't.

That evening Tara came over to tell me what she found out about my… about what went wrong when they brought me back. Tara says I'm not wrong. Then it all came flooding back. Now I have no excuse for…any of the things I did to Spike, for using him, for beating him, for leaving him. I found myself crying and begging Tara NOT to forgive me. I cried and begged Tara not to forgive me because I knew Spike already had.

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