The name's Mercedes. It's funny how many people think they know me. Sure, I'm the bad-ass Slayer whose predessesor was none other than Faith. She was the only other Slayer I've ever heard of that had fun with her job.

But getting back to the point. Do you really know me? Of do you claim to know me through tales from Buffy, or Xander, or Giles? Do you want to know me? If you really want to know me, I'll start from the beginning.

I was nine years old when my parents died. They hated what the Prophecy said. I was the Chosen One, or Two. I loved it, savoured it, wished it would never stop. So when my parents died - God rest their souls - that's what kept me alive. My sister had to work to keep us nourished, so she had very little impact on my studies, including slaying.

Life continued and I grew up with a Watcher and no friends. Sad tale? No. I couldn't stand all the acting. Everyone I'd ever met put on a happy face around me. They all knew I was different, but didn't know how. Whatever.

When I turned 18, I came into my parents' fortune that had matured nicely over the years. Mind you, so had I. I considered myself to be quite attractive and I thought I could have any guy I wanted. It was probably true, but I rarely tested my theory.

My Watcher sent me to Sunnydale from Miami. I needed a change of scenery, so I figured, why not? When I arrived in Sunnydale, I bought a house, painted it, unpacked and then went searching for my new Watcher. He was, so I was told, in the Sunnydale High School's library.

I met my Watcher, Wesley, who turned out to be the stuffiest and most anal person I had ever met. Along with meeting my Watcher, I met the girl who would soon become my rival. The Chosen One, the all-famous Buffy Summers. I thought we'd be the best of friends, kicking ass and taking names, but as it turned out, she was just about as anal and angelic as Wesley.

That same night is one I'll never forget. I only wish I could sometimes. I followed Buffy to a dark place. I can't describe it much, it was odd. It was like part crypt and part apartment. Here resided the all-famous vampire. One who bore a soul; a curse that many vampires would fear. She, Buffy, broke his unbeating heart in two because he killed Faith.

His name was Angelus.

He was a dream. Sure he was a vampire, but he was different. This drew me in. I lost control and fell head-over-heels for him. I told him too much and at my prom he left me.

He left me for Buffy.

Angel seemed to forget I existed every time she waltzed her too skinny ass into the room.

So I left. I talked to a red-head whose name was Laurel, before leaving whose date had also taken off with his ex, but left immediately after I came to my fucking senses.

I ended up at the Bronze.

This is one of the hardest things for me to talk about. You'll understand later.

He thought I was Dusilla. He was Spike. He pulled up a chair after he apologized for mistaking my identity. I asked him who Drusilla, or Du, was. Angel had mentioned her. Turns out Angel was Dru's sire, as he was Spike's grand-sire, thus making Spike a vampire. Angel made Dru insane by killing off every person she had ever loved before he took her. Spike claimed that he and Dru got by much better than Angel and Dru ever did.

It struck me that everyone in this small town was somehow linked. But that's what I get.

Anyways, Spike filled me in on the Angel and Buffy situation that would kill them both eventually. But Spike cared less about Buffy and Angel and focused more on Drusilla.

He mentioned that I looked like her, and since she left him brooding, I fed off the crazy resemblance. We ended up at my place, and after he made his mark; two fang marks in the side of my neck, we made love.

It was so evil, so flled with naughtiness that I savoured it. My deep down rebellion shone through brightly. That's what I loved about him.

Spike.

Weeks later, after I attained a room-mate, Laurel, who could be considered a runaway, I found Spike in the sewers. He was searching. Searching for the ring that would make him invincible.

The Gem of Amarra.

Nothing frightened him anymore while he was wearing that god-damned ring. Not even me. He decided that he needed a tan, so we went on vacation.

He started to change.

Not only was he insanely cocky, but he was fooling around with other girls. It was OUR vacation. We spent a whole 24 hours together, if that. As soon as he fucked me over, I left.

I felt as if my heart had crumbled.

I had complications getting to Sunnydale from Hollywood. That's when Angel came to the rescue.

He reminded me of Batman.

He was there, on his was to Los Angeles and offered to drive me back home. Had it not been dark and 29 miles off, I would've declined. But I accepted. He had broken up with Buffy and let me know that I could and should look him up once he settled in L.A.

We never said good-bye.

My so-called vacation had prevented me from attending my granduation ceremony. Spike said I probably failed. I proved him horribly wrong.

Graduation.

It wasn't a normal ceremony, but then again was anything in my life normal? The mayor of Sunnydale went full out demon and killed 15 of the graduates. I tried to get back in time for graduation. God, I tried. No one believed me. Not Wesley, not the ex-Watcher/librarian Giles, no one.

Until there was Oz.

So what, he was dating Willow. I was sick of caring about anything, so I turned to Oz. He was a werewolf who was dating Willow, a witch.

Willow didn't scare me. Oz chose to cheat on her with me and that was that. Until that day.

Oz had called me to see if I wanted to join him and his band on a tour. Unfortuantely he neglected to tell me taht I was to be a back-up singer. That scared me more than the Apocolypse itself.

During this excursion, I got a phone call from Angel, with whom I had been keeping in touch. I had also sent him on a guilt trip, prior to the Dingoes' tour, about myself and Oz. Which was, in fact, the exact reason for his call. I had no idea he was so possessive.

So I was playing two guys. That didn't bother me. Angel played me once before and Spike fucked me over before disappearing to look for his precious Dusilla.

Oz eventually broke up with Willow after a weregirl, Varuka, torched their relationship and ours. He left for L.A.

I gave him Kudos. In fact, since I had the Gem of Amarra around my neck, I had no reason to fear Spike or any other vampire anywhere. So, I left. Laurel, my room-mate, who had broken up with Zander after he took off for two months and expected her back, came too. She had met Angel's sidekick Doyle. He was a small Brachen demon. Pardon, half-Brachen demon.,/p>

Doyle died not long after.

Laurel went in a downward spiral and brought me with her.

So there we were, two emotionally wounded girls, living in L.A. and wishing for things that would never come true. I secretly wanted Spike back and she had a death to deal with.

Laurel received Doyle's vision-thingy. He had the ability to see the future of people in hopeless positions and before he died, Laurel got the headache-y torture of help.

Anyways, in our spiral, I dated Angel a couple times before staying with Oz.

Years passed and things picked up. I made more friends, like Winifred and Gunn, who aided Angel in his attempts to aid the helpless.

I was coming home after a long day at the gym when something didn't seem quite right. I was waiting for news on Sunnydale. The inevitable had happened and Spike was involved.

The end of Sunnydale.

The end of Spike.

Laurel's message of the news replayed in my mind like a broken record.

'I finally got news from Sunnydale. Bad news. From what Xander says, it was a bad time. They lost some potential Slayers, Xander's ex-girlfriend... and Spike.'

And Spike.

Spike.

My life stopped. Nothing mattered. I didn't know what to do. For once in my life I felt helpless. I remember my hand immediately reaching for the necklace that bore Spike's ring alongside a crucifix. Grabbing at it, ripping it off, I proceeded to throw it at the wall.

I broke down. How could I have left him unprotected. The ring could've saved him. It wasn't fair.

Oz came over and tried to console me. I give him credit for staying with me while I cried myself hoarse and sick all night.

Why Spike?

God, why did you have to take Spike?

I mean, I understand he's not all-human or anything, but Spike was me. He made me whole, kept me stable.

I went on a depression streak. No one noticed because Slayers heal so much fucking faster.

No one noticed the 6-inch cuts.

The cuticle marks.

The dark circles under my eyes.

I lost 30 pounds the next couple weeks. I drank, cried myself to sleep and tried suicide every night.

It was all because of Spike.

He was mine.

He's gone.

Forever.

Now do you think you know me? Hell you don't. No one knows me. No one understands. Leave me alone.

You will never know.

You will never really know me.

Mercedes Reeve.