Five by five. I'm sorry about
Have I told you what that really means?
There's a part of me that says yes, that somehow, somewhere in between the slaying and the partying we had, between you and me being friends, to the time you wanted to kill me, I told you. I can't really tell anymore. I don't really care anymore.
Now I think you still would like to kill me, I'm sorry to tell you that someone got way ahead of you. This could because of something I did or didn't do.
Remember that time I killed that man or I when nearly killed him, I won't apologize for those. I did them and I did them with a song in heart, that you can take to the fucking bank.
Whatever I did, there was one thing I wanted to needed to do that I didn't, maybe because of uncertainty, fear, all of these shit that just clogs your system. You know the things I've done, and the thing I wish I did was to kiss you. Those nights at the Bronze, when you and I exploded into the floor like one complete being of movement, everything inside me is pushing me to you. To kiss you. Then look into you wait for you to understand.
But I didn't did I?
I never backed-off from anything but you. You who took me in and helped me out of the fucking bind I was in, the kind of bind all slayers must have been through, weakness. My watcher told me once that our weaknesses make us stronger, boy he must be burning in fucking hell for telling me that lie. In my weakness I found you, you stole from the crap I was in and pulled me into yours.
What is it with you?
You don't try that hard and everybody likes you. You don't put out and people stick with you.
I wish I was you. Again.
I'm sorry about that and everything else.
I'm sorry about the thing between me and Angel. You love him the way I love you and I understand. I really do.
I'm sorry about the thing between me and the Mayor. He was like the father I never had. The father we both lost.
I'm sorry about the thing between me and Xander. I used him. Period.
I'm sorry for not kissing you, not taking the fucking chance and finding out what could have been.
Maybe we'd still be together. Maybe we'd still be friends, even if that could be awkward. Maybe we'd be bitter exes and living the way we do now apart. So far apart.
Five by five.
Have I told you what that means?
Maybe I'll tell you someday when you reach me here.
Five by five,