***

You know how us Catholic girls can be

We make up for so much time a little too late

I never forgot it, confusing as it was

No fun with no guilt feelings

The sinners, the saviors, the loverless priests

I'll see you next Sunday

***

Her skin is pale, petals of peach colored flowers that have fallen and crumpled on the ground. Hollow eyes that once sparked with emerald fire, now just an empty ocean into which she's drowned in. Golden hair has dried to yellow husks, lifeless and limp in the punishing wind.

But the girl who would once care has been silenced by the singeing memory of paradise. It scorched a chasm in her heart where the memory of a man once burned with passion. Now it only remains a charred reminder of a love she lost and can never feel again.

Sometimes she still thinks of butterflies and innocence; pink ribbon in her hair and silver dolphin trinkets dangling from her ears. Days of dreaming under a summer sun and hunting for fairies in tranquil forests. The dream has become a nightmare now, and the tall oaks and redwoods have been replaced by tombstones. The fairies have scattered, leaving her alone with the demons and monsters

She once believed in angels and heaven. Would kneel at the side of her bed in the serene glow of the moon and pray for deliverance. Skipping to church with her skirt wrapped around her ankles and eyes mesmerized by the steeples brushing the clouds.

"That's where God is." Her father told her, picking the girl up by her waist. "He's watching over you all the time." He points to the pristine blue sky and she smiles.

***

We all had our reasons to be there

We all had a thing or two to learn

We all needed something to cling to

So we did

***

        She doesn't step out into the day anymore. Afraid the merciless sun will burn away her dry skin to reveal the lifeless shell behind the eyeliner and mascara. Afraid that God will lash against her for the sins and dark deeds that are abundant on this path of temptation she has chosen.

        Sunday school taught her to accept the sinner and forgive the sin.

        She can't do either for herself.

        The brilliant sapphire shade of the sky that once brought a smile to her face is now reflected in the eyes of a demon. A heavy fog drifts over her memories when he wraps his powerful arms around her, and her mind whispers to her in the moments between dark and dawn. The voice of someone telling her this is the type of man to stay away from. But he's not a man, so maybe the teachings don't hold here.
        Or maybe she just tells herself that to keep the guilt from weighing on her soul.

***

I sang Alleluia in the choir

I confessed my darkest deeds to an envois man

My brothers they never went blind for what they did

But I may as well have

In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son

I had one more stupid question.

***

        She's the messiah, the savior, the golden saint.

He's a sinner, a monster, a faithless being.

When the moon's brilliance is overcast by clouds whose bellies are heavy with rain, she steps out into the wind torn night. Coat billowing behind her as she walks toward the empty church, a crucifix stands watch in front of the house of worship, aged wood splintering from time. Her fingers touch the cross to see if it will burn. It never does.

So she kneels, knees sinking into the dew soaked grass of the church yard. She prays to be delivered from temptation, for God to forgive her sins because her thoughts keep returning to a demon. Unsought tears stain her cheeks in tracks and the heavens join in her sorrow. Rain splatters around her shuddering figure, baptizing her again in the Lords tears.

***

What I learned I rejected but I believe again

I will suffer the consequence of this inquisition

If I jump in this fountain, will I be forgiven

***

        "Luv, what are you doing?"

        Buffy turns around too quickly and stumbles to her feet. The rain continues to fall in sheets of water that slide off both of their pale flesh. His eyes accuse her of nonsense, still revering a God that neither have reason to believe exists. A harsh wind rushes through the sky, sending the currents of rain at an angle toward him. But he doesn't blink away the rain stinging his eyes.

        "Spike." She acknowledges in an apprehensive tone; gaze uncertain as to what is safe, the church of the Lord behind her or the concerned eyes of a demon watching her thoughtfully. Absently she rubs her eyes, knowing she can blame the tears on the heavy rain.

        He takes a few cautious steps toward her and places both hands on her shoulders. She turns her head away from him and he can hear the heaviness in her breath, the quickening of her pulse. There's fear in her soul, but that's always there now.

        He speaks to her in a hushed whisper, running his fingertips against the unscarred side of her neck. "Was once of god fearing folk. Worshipped the Holy Ghost, Blessed Son and the Lord above." His voice pauses, and she returns her gaze to his. He pulls out the thin gold chain that dips beneath her shirt and bites his lower lip at the sight of the cross. He recognizes the symbol, knows who gave it to her. In one solid motion he tears it from her neck and she can barely contain a whimper. Clutching the miniature crucifix in his hand her eyes become mesmerized by the steam rising from his skin in the rain. The stench of smoldering flesh accented by the aroma of soaked nature

        "And this is what I'm rewarded with." He growls in answer to his burning skin, and then quickly drops it.

        She wants to say that he deserves it, a soulless monster has no place in God's house, but keeps quite as he regains himself, water spilling off of his body as he raises his eyes toward her. "You want forgiveness pet?"

        She doesn't answer at first, pretends that she doesn't understand him through the falling rain. But he can't be fooled.

        "I want to stop feeling like this." She admits in a hushed breath. "I want to stop feeling like I'm a monster." It's almost to faint to hear under the rain.

        His head cocks to one side and his gaze softens at her confession. Softly he places a hand on her cheek, feeling her slick skin under his rough touch. "I've been a demon for a century and more now." He pauses. "The Lord doesn't have patience for the likes of me. I'm damned for a reason pet." He's not about to mention to her it's because he doesn't have a soul, she reminds him of that all too often. "But you've been to heaven and back pet." He grabs for her hand and she doesn't protest as he leads her fingertips to the large wooden cross she stands before. Guiding her palm over the splintered surface he whispers in her ear. "You're not a monster luv."

        The moment bleeds into unknown minutes as the rain descends onto the soft earth. And finally she draws her hand away, curling it toward her face. He waits as she turns around to him and she presses her head against his chest. Her tears come unsought and quick like the rain above. Wrapping his arms around her in a strong embrace he kneels them both to the muddied ground; murmurs unheard endearment against her head, brushing his fingers through her damp locks to calm her shuddering figure.

        He may be damned by the Lord and all that is holy. But a monster has no opportunity to be redeemed. She is still a child of God, a servant of good.

        And through her tears he realizes that's not what she wants. Sin is much more tempting then the way of the church and she started this way with no intention of going back.

        She does not want to be forgiven.

***

We all had delusions in our head

We all had our minds made up for us

We had to believe in something

So we did

***

end.