N/A: Big thanks to All4Spike for her help with the translation and her suggestions

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I'm so, so tired. This place stinks. I stink.

I turn around and he is there. His hair is almost white in the neon lights and he looks hot as usual. My mind starts wandering at once, going to places it shouldn't go, but I will not show it. I know I won't: I'm a master at this, by now.

"This'll make my day complete." I sigh and go to the cash register. "What?" "What's in the DoubleMeat nuggets?" "I'm working. Go away." "Yeah, and you chose to be in the consumer service profession, and I'm a consumer. Service me."

He smirks, annoying as usual. And hot. Did I already say hot? Damn him. Damn me.

"Order something or go." He sighs. "Give a bloke a chance for his eyes to adjust. Damn fluorescent lights. Makes me look dead."

He truly is annoying. And delusional. Does he really believes this will amuse me?

I just stare at him but he goes on, ignoring me.

"Some demons love 'em. The way they vibrate makes the skin twitch. That the kinda demon you are, luv?" "I am not a demon. I don't know why you can hit me, but," I pause to make a point, "I am not a demon."

But he is unaffected. I should have known it wouldn't work with him.

"Oh. I see. That why you took this job? Prove something to yourself? A normal job for a normal girl?" He shakes his head. "Good way to drive yourself crazy, that is."

I shrug but I can't deny it.

"I'll be fine."

He leans forward, puts his hands on the counter.

"Buffy."

I look at him, wordlessly.

"You're not happy here."

I can't deny this either. But maybe I should tell him that I'll never be happy again, no matter where I am or what I do. So what's the point? Maybe I should tell him so. Would it do any good? Would he leave me alone? And do I really want to be alone?

I feel all my strength leaving me.

"Please don't make this harder." "You don't belong here. You're something ... you're better than this."

Dear god, his eyes. He sounds... he looks so sincere, so sweet. Can't tell him to go the fuck away now, can I? "I need the money." "I can get money." He gestures with his head. "Walk with me now, come on."

So inviting.

No. No way. I have to go, to stay away from him, before he works his magic on me and makes me do something wrong. Again. "I ... I need to go help Gary with the fries."

I turn to go but he grabs my arm. His hand burns my skin through the cheap cloth of my shirt.

"You gotta get outta here, this place'll do stuff to you."

You are wrong. I scream in my head. This world, this life has already done 'stuff' to me. It's too late. Just too fucking late.

I pull myself free and, as I walk away, I can hear him shouting. "This place'll kill you!"

You are wrong again: I am already dead.

I stare, transfixed, at the bubbles in the oil. Someone is talking but I don't care to listen. Someone joins me and we watch together. Someone talks once more. I only understand the last few words. It seems I'm on break, finally. I snap out of it, tearing my gaze from the bubbling oil and turn to walk slowly away. Then I catch sight of the window and stop.

He is walking past outside the window, looking in at me. He stops and we stare at each other.

He calls to me with his eyes.

My hand goes to my head to take off my stupid cap and runs through my hair. And I can't stop looking at him, mesmerized. How long?

His eyes...

It's like a siren's chant. Come with me, come with me, come...

He resumes walking. I stop thinking.

I don't want to think. I'm on break after all, right? I just want a break. I need it.

We meet outside.

Where? Where are we?

We don't care.

We see nothing except one another. I see nothing except his eyes, locked in mine. They are so blue, burning with intensity, stripping me of any inhibitions I still have left and filling me with emotions and sensations.

And feelings, and desire, and passion.

We don't talk.

All I can hear is the sound of his zipper going down as he frees himself and the rustle of the fabric when he lifts my skirt and pulls my panties aside. His hands are on me and all I hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears.

We don't kiss.

He grabs me under my thighs, lifting my legs until they are around his hips. I squeeze them, pulling him to me with my heels. He grinds against me, pushing. And then he is inside. In me. Hard, big, pulsing, thrusting. Fucking my body and my mind.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I close my eyes. Feeling. Just feeling.

I feel his cock inside me. It's hard and fills me so good.

I feel the familiarity of our coupling. How many times have we done this? I know his body as well as he knows mine. We are like two halves of the same coin.

I feel his breath on my neck, his skin, so smooth and cool. So alive.

I feel the hardness of his arms under my hands.

I feel his hips slamming against mine, his pelvis thrusting as he slides in and out of me.

He is fast and slow.

I feel him twitching inside, hitting all the right spots. Again and again.

He is rough and gentle.

I feel the pleasure mounting. It's like a wave. Increasing, growing, rising. Wave after wave, flowing in my veins, burning my skin.

I feel him thrusting into me, in and out.

He is fast and rough and the pleasure comes, wave after wave, scorching me like a fever.

Growing, mounting, increasing. Rising, flowing, burning,

Exploding.

I let go.

And for a moment, a short, small second, I'm in Paradise once more.

I tremble, moaning against his ear, thrashing in his arms, squeezing his cock, wetting him with my juices. Coming and coming and coming for what seems an eternity.

I collapse against the wall with a sigh, grateful for the release and the feelings that still linger in my body.

My mind is numb. My limbs go soft and weak and I can't keep my legs up. I let them slither down. My bare feet meet the cold ground and the sensation startles me.

I open my eyes, blinking.

I feel his ragged breath, his lips softly brushing my skin.

And then I feel the hard surface against my back, scratching the skin on my ass, as he keeps slamming me into the wall.

I hear his praises, the words of love whispered in my ear.

And then I hear a cat mewling somewhere and a horn going on from afar.

I see his arms on both sides of me as he holds himself against the wall.

And then I see the trashcan and the filth surrounding us.

I blink, staring at the darkness.

And all I can really feel is the emptiness inside.

The End