𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓞𝓯 𝓤𝓼

17 | Where's A Slayer When You Need One?

"You saved me," I whispered, tears pooling in my eyes. 

"You sound surprised,"

"I am,"

He smiled a little.

"Why?"

I didn't know what to say.

Because I had told him we could never be together? 

Because he never came back to the office?  

Because I had been sure that I would never see him smile at me again? 

Because I thought he hated me?

"You...you hate me," I murmured and Kingsley raised an eyebrow at me. 

"You can still save people you hate," he replied and my heart sunk.

 "Oh," I muttered.

"What? You don't hate me? You're the only one who can have strong feelings towards somebody?" Kingsley exclaimed, his tone incredulous and I looked away.

"I-I'm sorry," I whispered.

"No," he muttered. "You're not,"

Was I?

Was I sorry for everything I had said?

Everything I had done?

Or was he right?

"You win," I spoke quietly.

"Its not a competition Carpenter," he replied and I rolled my eyes.

"But it is. Because everything's a competition to you. I have more important things to worry about right now like solving this murder case before somebody else gets hurt. First step is to get out of this hospital. And away from you,"

Kingsley stared back at me and I could see the hurt in his eyes. "So you want me to hate you?"

Exhaling deeply, I turned my gaze back to him.

"No. I want us to be two civil adults working together on a case. No hating each other, no running away," I said.

Kingsley shook his head, standing to leave.

"No. That's not how it works Carpenter. You don't get to hate me then love me and then hate me again and then think we can just be friends. We've already solved the case. Wesley and Cordelia will have found the demons by now. They'll have sorted everything out. The owner of the store will hire security guards to surround the place and you'll go back to your old job. Either that or she'll close the shop and you'll keep working for Angel. Or you'll move back to Louisiana and marry some jazz singer. I'm not in any of what happens next for you, Carpenter and if that's the way you want things then fine," he spat.

"Kingsley..." I began quietly.

"It's fine. Really,"

But it wasn't fine.

None of this was fine.

In fact, it was the opposite of fine.

But how was I supposed to tell him that?

He stormed out of the room, brushing angrily past a nurse. "Do you know him?" the nurse asked, walking into my room.

"All too well," I replied darkly and she sighed.

"I don't know who let him in then. He's definitely raised your stress levels,"

"He brought me here. And I've seen much worse," I told her.