This little ditty is for my girl Missy’s birthday. Yes, it’s a craptastic pressie. LOL I’ve never ever written slash before and while this isn’t exactly “slash” it does have m/m overtones…obvious ones.

So, I was digging around for some Indigo Girl lyrics and found two that while they don’t necessarily go totally along with the stories, they did however cause me to be inspired. The songs are Blood and Fire and Ghost. The lyrics can be found at http://letssingit.com/lyrics/indigo-girls/4.html for Blood and Fire and http://letssingit.com/lyrics/indigo-girls/10.html for Ghost. Ghost inspired the first part and Blood and Fire is responsible for the second part.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No one in the following little tidbits belong to me. No infringement is intended. This in no way reflects on the way these people may actually live or their real sexual preferences so if you have a problem with it…bugger off. *grins* After all..it’s only fiction.

Hope you enjoy, Missy.


Raven’s POV

I sit here, sober and much more mature. I once said that there’s nothing in my life that I’d ever regret. Of course that was when I thought I was invincible, untouchable, and heartless. Back when my life was a veritable revolving door of drugs, booze, and sex partners. The more the merrier, right? Now, here I am, almost 40 and I have nothing to show for those years but pained memories and scars. That I hide because, to everyone around me, I’m a fucking legend…in every sense of the phrase. No one knows that my biggest regret is the one thing I’m most famous for. I helped break a man.

I say “helped” because he has so many other issues, but me, I managed to bring all those things to the surface and amplify them ten-fold. Now I’m faced, on a regular basis, with my biggest regret.

He was a ray of sunshine into my dark world. But, too bad for him I didn’t realize that he’s just what I needed until it was too late. I remember the first time we met. He practically bounced into the bar. Bright eyed with and even brighter smile. Young, pretty, and naïve to my ways. I sauntered up to him just like I did to all my conquests back then and immediately began working my charm on him. I remember being drawn in by his eyes. They were so sweet, so unexpecting, so innocent, and so focused on me. His loyalty to me eventually proving to be his downfall.

Over the next days I initiated him into my world. Within a month, I had him. He was mine hook, line, and sinker. He was mine mind, body, and soul. So much of the time we were together is clouded in a haze of alcohol and drugs. I demanded so much from him and he gave it all willingly. While he was sitting around waiting for me to call or come over, I was out sewing my wild oats. He stood by me every time I tried to stop drinking and give up the drugs. He was there to clean me up each time I fell off the wagon. He was the one who took me to the ER the night I found out I had liver damage. He was there every time some rat would claim that I’d knocked her up. He stood by me through my mood swings and my attempts at self-destruction. But I couldn’t be there for him when he was slapped in the face with his past. I tucked my tail and ran like a scared puppy, leaving him to fend for himself and face his demons alone. I assumed he’d learn from my mistakes, not follow in my footsteps.

Now, here he is. He’s no longer that beloved, happy-go-lucky, carefree, accepting man. In his place is a bitter, cynical, almost woman-hating man. His eyes aren’t innocent anymore. They don’t shine. They’re dull, hollow, and cold. His smile isn’t as warm and friendly as it once was. In fact, he only smiles now at other’s pain. He’s a dark shadow of the man that bounced into my life years ago.

I watch him with his new love and realize that the student has become the teacher. He has become me. People think that this is the real Stevie, that he was just hiding all that time. But I know better. Stevie is dead. I killed him and allowed this new person to take his place.

It hit me like a stiff kick to the gut that I do have one regret. I broke the one person that ever really loved me. Sure there have been others since him, but none like him. But, in some sick twisted way I think everything is for the best. If we had stayed together he would have continued to cater to me, let me dominate him and I never would have changed. But then again, I ended his life to save mine. We’re both reborn, we’re new men, but only one of us changed for the better.


Stevie’s POV

He thinks I don’t see him watching me and it’s at those times when I make sure he sees what I’ve become. I have to laugh at the irony. My former lover, my teacher, watching me with pained eyes as I toy with my new love, my student if you will.

Erin assumes I love him, just as I assumed Scott loved me. He made sure I’d never truly love again. But, I’ve also tried to make it as hard as possible for him to love again. We’re both masters of the mind-fuck. I did learn from the master.

Scott thinks he broke me, turned me into the man I am. He merely helped along the inevitable and finally after all these years I have him right where I want him. I know all I have to do is say the word and he’ll be back in my bed. Only this time, things would be different. I’ve lived and learned. He’d be the student while I taught him all the cruel lessons I’ve learned.

I know his eyes are on me, that brain of his working over-time psycho-analyzing me. Kicking himself for what he did…thinks he did to me. He has to be the dumbest smart person I know. He thinks he made me this way? How arrogant of him to think that he can take all the credit. And, just what the Hell is so wrong with me anyway? So what if I piss a lot of people off. I speak my damn mind. Honesty is the best policy. And so what if I’ve managed to alienate almost everyone but Erin. C’mon it’s not like Scott’s doing much better. Sure he puts on a great front, but that’s all it is…a front…a façade. I saw the way he was with Kanyon. I heard stories. People do talk. Of course, him and Kanyon are still friends and look where I am.

Fuck that, I’m digressing.

I remember our last night together. We had a vicious fight. I was “too needy” and he needed his space. He couldn’t deal with all my baggage so he said. Of course, as usual, after our fight we had amazing make-up sex and I in my delusional mind thought every thing was peachy fucking keen. When I woke up the next morning he was gone. Barely a sign that he’d even been there…aside from the aching in my heart. I think I could actually feel it ice over. I still have the letter he sent to me a few months later when he was in rehab. Apparently he felt the need to “tie up loose ends”. I know that last fight he wanted me to chase after him, find him, and beg him to come back, but even I have some pride.

But, he thinks I’ve changed? Look at him! Trying so hard to be a new person He’s braided his hair and dumped a bucket of bleach on it. I liked the loose curls so much better. The way they felt brushing my…fuck that…I’m digressing again. He’s trying so hard to be young and I think it’s pathetic. I can’t stand watching the way he chases after Jeff Hardy. Not that Hardy is totally innocent; he does some chasing as well. It’s like a shitty game of freeze-tag. Jeff will never be able to replace me. The old Scotty would’ve never chased after someone and he damn sure never would’ve sit in a corner and pined after an ex.

Erin thinks I’m crazy for even thinking about Scott. But as much as I hate to admit it, he is as much a part of me as I am of him. Memories haunt me like a ghost. Our first meeting, our first fight…our last fight. I miss him.

No, fuck that. I’ve got Erin. He brings me a cold beer and a sandwich and lets me watch the Simpsons in peace. He lets me bitch and he gives me massages when I’m sore. For once I have someone to cater to my every beck and call.

And I’ve got my hobby. Fucking with his life. He started dating Amy Dumas during his last run with ECW. Guess who fucked that up for ya, Scotty. Damn skippy it was me. I laid on the charm, gave her my pity story about how much shit you put me through and that was all I needed to do. Chicks are so easy to fuck with that it’s not even fun anymore. Used to be a sport, but what’s the fun in it if the game isn’t equipped to retaliate properly?

So fuck you, Scott. You got what you wanted...what you deserved. I hate you…

I hate you so much I love you...and it hurts.

To e-mail the author contact her at flamingbytch@hotmail.com

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