No One Would Know
He was in love. For the second time in his long, long life, he was in love.
He absolutely hated it.
He hated the feeling of being in love. He hated the hurt that came with the emotion. The
uncertainty. The need for something that couldn't be controlled.
He hated the fact that he was in love with whom he had hated.
They'd worked together at one time and he'd learned things necessary to survive in the world of
good versus evil. He had actually enjoyed himself, was quasi-friends with the one he now loved.
Then things happened to change the status quo again and again, and he was in love once more.
Why wasn't his life ever simple? At one time, it had been. Get up, go out, feed, maim, kill, shag,
sleep. Nothing too difficult. Nothing too complex. Then a mob attacked his first love and he
had taken her to a little place called Sunnydale, and everything went to pot.
He should have greeted the sun long ago, but he hadn't, and now he was in love again. He felt
like banging his head up against a hard wall repeatedly for being so stupid. Not that it would do
any good, he'd still be in love with whom he had hated.
There was nothing he could do about it. It wasn't as if whom he loved would ever love him back.
Too much had happened in the past. It didn't matter if he was a good guy or not, things between
them would never be how he wanted them. Then again, he was starting to get used to things
being not how he wanted them.
He was in love again and no one would ever know. Not his friends. Not his enemies. Not even
No one would know he was in love with his sire.