Summary: Angel reflects on the past, and about his future.
Spoilers: Everything.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, no matter how much I wish they
were. <sigh > They belong to Joss Whedon and the WB I have to live
with borrowing them for my stories.
Rating: Ummm, I'll say TVPG
by: Amy
******
I can't sleep. Not that I need to, but sleeping is something I always took for granted. I mean, sleeping does regenerate us, but we can get by perfectly fine without doing it if we allow our bodies to simply rest.
But I'm having trouble doing even that. The thoughts that haunt me at night are so horrible-- terrifying-- that I can barely close my eyes. I'm revisited to a place where even demons suffer, the torture is so great. We were wrong about that, all of us. Thinking that Hell would be a place that demons would love to be... What fools we were.
But my memories of Hell aren't the only things plaguing my thoughts. I can't seem to get her out of my mind, no matter how hard I try. Where ever I go I will be tortured, in memories or thoughts or realizations, it doesn't matter anymore. But this is the torture of Earth... I cannot be with her.
I've often pondered the unfairness of life. Sometimes I would curse myself for ever being born but even that helps none. It doesn't make me feel any less hurt or take away any of the pain. Strange though it may seem, it used to take some of the edge of my hurting heart, wishing I was dead, thinking that not being born would have been preferable to the fate I had been handed. But now even that brings no comfort, because if I hadn't been born... If I hadn't been through all that I had, I would never have met her. And that, in itself, would have been a worse fate.
But now, knowing her so intimately like I do, her thoughts and gestures as well as I know my own, and knowing that I can never be with her again is the worst kind of torment called upon my heart yet.
When I was pulled out of Hell-- By Buffy's own hand-- I knew that that would be the last time I would ever get to hold her. Somewhere, deep in my heart, I could see that we were not allowed to be together; She made me too happy, and we couldn't risk that happiness again. Even being around her brought that wonderfully painful feeling into my heart. Happiness. Something I will simply never be allowed to have.
So, that last time I touched her, held her, I made it count for me. Which makes it harder, I suppose, in the long run, to have that and know I could never have it again. But at the time, I couldn't let go. I wrapped my arms around her and prayed for something to intervene on my behalf. For something to allow that kind of love in my life. I'm still hoping somebody heard me...
In the dark times of the night, when it's cold and black outside and my thoughts don't let me sink into blessed oblivion for any length of time, I sit. I try to contemplate, or brood, whatever, but I always find my thoughts go back to her, and that's too painful for me. So I listen to the radio. That doesn't help much, either. Love songs, people pronouncing their happiness make me feel all the more empty.
Buffy came to see me two nights ago. She wanted to talk, to see if we could still be friends. I told her yes at the time, but I'm beginning to wonder if that's possible. Can I ever be in the same room with her without wanting more than I can have? Will I ever be able to look at her face and not see how much she loves me... How much I love her?
Our last kiss. The sadness was palpable, and the air was heavy as I took her small body in my arms for the last time, ever. As I pressed my mouth to her is a kiss that almost made up for everything. Almost. I could taste the tears on her lips, then and the memory hurts me that I caused her more pain. I had been selfish, wanting that last moment when I felt human and accepted. And I had felt that way, as her arms wound themselves around my neck, trusting me again, like she had so many times before.
I should never have kissed her. But how could I help it when she looked at me with those huge eyes, sparkling with tears? I should have known better, though. It was unfair of me. And loving her like I do, I should have forsaken any small measure of peace I would have gotten from that forbidden embrace to make her life easier. I wonder if she'll wait for me now... I shouldn't allow myself to even wonder.
Of course, where is the punishment in wanting something you can have? I know I'm bitter but I'm used to that. I would be almost comfortable in my grief if it weren't for her. My love for her is painful and strong. I see no sign of it lessening. A cruel joke, I'm sure. I wonder who is laughing at me.
I haven't seen myself in a long time. When I was young and human, I could look in a mirror or a pane of glass as I walked by and knew that I was handsome. Young girls would look at me in appreciation and I loved it. It's a heady sensation to have someone admire you so frankly.
That was, in fact, the only thing I missed when I lost my soul and embraced the dark. I had always been rather vain, and when I became a vampire that intensified, and I was angry that I couldn't look at myself anymore. Of course, when I regained my soul, I never wanted to look at myself, to do so would have been a reminder of all that i had done. I already had enough reminders.
And then I met Buffy. I looked at her gratefully as she seemed to treasure my presence. She told me I was beautiful in her sight and when she said that, I believed her. Buffy does not lie about such things. I cherished knowing her, and getting to know her better until our minds were one and our hearts entwined. And part of that was because when looked at her, I saw myself and I was starting to like what I saw.
And now... Now I can't look at her without hating myself all the more for the hurt I see reflecting in her eyes. The pain over the cruelty of our love. Irony is one of the harder pills to swallow, I've learned. Real irony, that is.
For a while before... Before everything, I was starting to feel almost invincible. Content that when I woke up, she would be there waiting for me. That I would have friends who trusted me and sought my opinions and approvals. That contentment ruined everything. I have a right to be bitter.
Even in that scary world Buffy lived in, with me and every other monster imaginable, she learned to trust one person with her whole heart, and I destroyed her for that. I forsook everything I had learned, everything I knew, for a long moment in which all I thought about was her-- A moment in which my soul was at last at peace because I was being trusted and held and loved by the one person destined for me. How many people find that one person?
I can smell her tears. When she looks at me, I can smell them fill her eyes, and the scent threatens to drive me to insanity.
I can feel her heartbeat. When she looks at me, I feel it intensify and speed up. The pounding of a heart that can never belong to me again breaks my own over and over. I would doubt it was even there if it weren't the pain it caused me.
I can hear her blood flow. When she looks at me, that wonderful, rich blood she has rushes through her veins and I crave it-- Not because it is blood, but because it is something of hers.
I can taste her lips. When she looks at me, her lips become swollen with tears and remembrance and I can taste the salty, warm flavor that was once what I would live for. What I looked forward to everyday-- The only thing. What I can never look forward to again.
I can see her power. When she looks at me, the power leaps into her heart and mind harshly, demanding to be seen and heard. It radiates off of her body in waves commanding the attention of all that see it. I see it. I always wonder-- Is it there because of me somehow?
I wish she saw herself as I see her, with my knowledge of all the she is, with my ultra sensitized eyes. With utter love. Rose colored glasses? Yes. I wish she could look into the reflection of those glasses and finally acknowledge that she is worth far more than she thinks. That her beautiful soul brings me to a state of grace that I had never imagined possible. All of this by looking at her.
And when I look at her, I see so many bright things in her path. It saddens me so much to know that I am not one of them. To know that my moment in her glory is over. My moment in the sun... For that's what she is to me. Not only my heart, but my only source of light in this dark world I call my own. She is my sun-- The brightest star in the sky. She is spectacular.
And now I wait... For someone else to discover that. For someone else to try to fill my place in her heart. The only small satisfaction I can take from all of this is knowing that no one will *ever* take my place in her heart. Star crossed lovers are like that, I suppose. She may give her heart to someone new, but we both know that a large piece of it will be reserved for me. That no one will be able to touch any aspect of our love... Not grasp it, not take it away. It is the one thing that is ours, and that will always be ours, no matter what.
Selfish of me, to love knowing that I hold the largest part of her heart and soul? Yes. But that's the thing about love. Either it belongs to you or it doesn't. No-- I phrased that wrong entirely. Either you belong to it, or you don't. Love is supposed to conquer all.
I'm still hoping so.
The End