the pearl


God, B, I never thought it'd end up like this.

I dreamed for years about what would happen when I finally got out. It's what kept me going, you know? Thinking about seeing you again and hoping that, after all these years, you'd finally forgiven me for all the shit I pulled. I did my time, and I know it wouldn't be easy, baby, but I had hoped, I had so hoped you'd be there when I got out.

And you are, but not the way I imagined. You're here and you're not here, and I'm standing next to a hospital bed, watching you twitch in your sleep, the eternal sleep that you've been taken into. 12 years ago, you left me like this, and now, there's a demon prowling the streets that can say it knocked down a Slayer.

Did you even know, baby? Did you even see what happened when he snapped your back and left you for dead? You were dead, from what Angel told me in that cold bare visiting room. Dead and revived, another Slayer called and now there are three, me, you, and her, and she's the only one that's working.

I remember the entire time I was in my coma. I remember every dream I had, and I had a lot. And over and over and over again, you killed me, B. You stuck your knife in me and killed me and killed me and killed me. Do you dream too, B? Do you repeat your death over and over again in your head? Does he appear out of nowhere? Does he kill you different ways each time? Does he kill your friends? Does he kill me? And do you cheer when he does?

Do you even remember who I am? I wish I could forget who I am, but I inked it into my arm, rough and harsh and bitter with a homemade tattoo pen in a dirty cell in the corner of the block. Prison tattoos don't have color, and my story is marked in black and skin, there for all to see. You're there, B, of course you are. I had a clock on my arm, no hands 'cause I didn't want to count hours, minutes, seconds, I was here forever, but when I got that phone call, when Angel told me the news, time froze and it was 7:30 forever for me.

Seven-three-oh and now there's no more time for you because you'll still sleep, you'll get old, you'll die in your sleep and even if you wake up, you'll be too old to do anything, and you'll wonder where that young girl went, wonder what happened while you were draining your life in a hospital bed.

I was almost you, B. And you never visited me then. But I can't let you go. You're under my skin, inked into my heart, and I will sit by your bed, holding your pale dry hand and wait for you to wake up.

Come on, B. Fight the dreams. Fight the demons. Fight.

This Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at And you can feedback her at