Remembrance: 8
by Selene
They only had this day left...
He stared down at what was left of his apartment. Everything was in shambles and it looked like a tornado had gone through the place. You would think that with the wealth of splintered wood lying around that at least one of the two vampires would be dusted. He tried to muster up some anger, even remorse for things destroyed that he had that were once important to him. He only felt empty. The things didn’t matter to him. Well maybe his books did... that was all he had left. What good was he without them? He was needed only for his mind. And lately that had been soaked in alcohol.
Fred was gone. Nothing was going to take her place. He felt all joy had gone out of his life.
He kept on going through the motions. The same stubbornness that had seen him through having his throat slit. For being a Judas in his friends eyes. For living even though he felt like he should be dead. Ashamed and hurt. Unworthy. He couldn’t quit. He found that he could still care about ideals and for some people... He still wanted to make things right. To somehow fix things so he could look at himself in the eye and feel that he had done enough. He was firmly committed to standing up to and ending the evil of Wolfram & Hart. He knew that this upcoming mission was almost impossible. It was his gordian knot. Since he couldn’t affect things from within Wolfram & Hart he would slice right through it. Hopefully to its heart. Stopping it for a moment. It would be enough for him.
It had taken all the things that had mattered from him. Lilah was gone to him. Knowing that she was forever in their service her soul gone for eternity. He thought about her a lot. He had tried to burn up her contract with the company to set her soul free. Only to see another reappear in its place. She was beyond his reach. And he grieved for her. There had been something about her that said that she could have been good if given the chance. She had been changing. He had seen the signs. He saw redemption in her future and then she was killed. All of her possibilities shattered.
Wolfram & Hart had definitely taken Fred away from him. Her soul burnt up so that something godlike could take its place. Left him with Illyria. Illyria that could, at times, be so much like Fred that it hurt. It was like seeing a car wreck... it was so morbid but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. All the glow that Fred had was still there when you saw Illyria. It was like looking at Fred as she truly was. Not an imitation but her. That is why he would do anything to keep Illyria from acting like Fred. He could manage fine being around her as Illyria but, seeing her act as Fred just poured salt into the wound. It had been tearing him to pieces. Part of him was intrigued by Illyria and he hated himself for it. How could he be interested in the thing that had killed his love. He had a coldness inside him where he could clinically observe her and be asking himself if there was a way that he could study her. Measure her powers and classify her. Maybe figure out what had actually happened to Fred’s soul. So he could finally know and let it rest.
He had brought Illyria back from Spike’s apartment. Her wounds had healed and you couldn’t tell that they ever were there. She seemed mentally scarred from the beating that she had taken from Marcus. It was obvious that she wasn’t accustomed to being on that end of the fight. Wesley had tried to talk to her but after refusing to let her look like Fred she had closed herself off. She stared absently at the scattered remains of one of his chairs. Broken and battered. He hoped that she was ready to face her part of the plan tonight. Four members of the Blackthorn... He remembered her fighting skill... her strength and reassures himself that she will be fine. He stops. Why is he worrying about her, of them all, she’s the fiercest.
He only has to face Vail. An invalid. An immensely world bending powerful invalid. He made a mental note to bring his knives and personal stash of mojo for backup. He was ready no matter what it took he would get the job done. This had to mean something. For all that was lost there had to be some sort of retaliation...
Illyria looked down at the shattered leg of Wesley’s chair. That was how she had been when they had found her. Weak. Shattered. She knew now that she did not like those feelings. They were unfamiliar. Before she was contained that grovelling slave couldn’t have come close to touching her. She had been infinite. She felt her boundaries now... constraining. Fragile.
As she had lay there broken she had felt the spark. The spark that she had always been able to control. To banish. Flare. It had warmed her. Comforted. Spoke. Whispering nonsense words in a singsong voice that soothed. It was still there getting stronger as she was weak and healing. The words clearer with more direction. The one word repeating was Wesley.
She looked up into a pair of hazel eyes. She saw pain flash in them. She felt pain too. She clamped down on the spark willing it to be quiet. Wanting to not feel these things. She stood stock still. The war that was raging inside of her unnoticed.
She needed to hurt the Wolf Ram & Hart. They had done this to her. They must pay. Vengeance was something that the spark and her understood very well.
He had done it. The swirl of guilt ran through his mind. Drogan’s blood streamed through his veins strong and powerful.
He pushed away any thoughts of remorse. It was done and there was no turning back now. There had been no other choice left open for him.
Now, with his plan in place for Lindsey, he could afford no second guessing of himself. Lorne would follow through on his part of the deal... repugnant as it was for him. Lindsey was evil and he had already consigned him to a hell dimension once already. Angel couldn’t waste time worrying about the fine line between right and wrong. He had made the hard decisions and everyone had better fall in line or the whole plan would collapse.
The sewer was especially rank today. He couldn’t risk taking one of the cars and letting Wolfram & Hart in on where he was going. He came up to the surface in the shadow of a strip mall. He had kept tabs on Connor since his “parents” had brought him in a few months ago. This whole situation would have never come to be without Connor. His love for Connor was unconditional and uncontrollable. It made him do things that he would normally never do. Like taking over Wolfram & Hart. He would do it over again in an instant... Even if it meant losing Cordelia and Fred. For Connor. He walked into coffee shop and spotted Connor going over his notes with a Grand Cafe Mocha in front of him. Figures he likes whipped cream... Just like his mom.
His smile genuine Angel waves awkwardly. “Hey... Umm... Connor, right?”
Connor looked up his gaze clear but quickly becomes shrouded when he recognizes Angel. “Oh, hi.”
“Uh... What are you studying there?” Angle tried for the small talk.
Connor shook his dirty blonde hair out of his face, and looked at Angel directly, “I know that you are my father. I have all the memories back. They’re there mixed up with my new ones, like a bad dream. An inappropriate erotic bad dream?...with a cheerleader?”
Angel looks like he’s been punched in the gut. “Do... Umm... Do you have any questions? Uhhh... Not about that... The cheerleader thing,” he said uncomfortably.
Connor shook his head, “I understand what you did. I am grateful but I just... I just don’t want to talk about it.”
Angel wanted thing to be better between them but he had given up so much just to make it even this much better for him so he didn’t push. “Well if you ever have questions you know where to find me... I hope... I want you to be happy.”
Lorne struggled to try and choke down what passed as a seabeeze in this tired karoake bar. He sighed. It was probably for the best. His gut was churning over and over. He had thought that a drink might calm him down. It wasn’t going to be that easy for him.
Angel’s request for him to “back up” Lindsey weighed on him. The thought of intentionally hurting another made him feel queasy. He hated fighting. That was the reason he had been relieved to be here rather than in his home dimension of Pylea. That Angel had let it come to this was what was really bothering him. He had followed Angel before and tried to help in any way that he was able. But, this wasn’t what he believed in. Angel was going in the wrong direction.
He would do what was asked... This one last time and that was it. Then he was done.
He heard his name called and stepped on to the stage...
“If I Ruled The World” was never sung better.
He looked up and down the street cautiously. Some habits died hard. It was a good thing that they didn’t. Charles looked around at what had been his home. Where he had grown up. Where he had lost Alonna. It never stopped hurting. Even now thinking about how he wasn’t able to saved her. Hadn’t kept her safe. He was all that she had. It didn’t matter that he had dusted hundreds of vampires. It mattered that he had dusted her. His sister.
He had nowhere to go. No one who really cared. Just what was left of his friends and tonight he had to make a difference. There was no room for mistakes.
What did he have now... A fancy suit? A dead ex-girlfriend? Another casualty to his ego?
He felt that what they were doing tonight was the right thing to do. To finally go up against the evil instead of sucking up to it. Angel’s plan to take over Wolfram & Hart from the inside was at best delusional. There was no stopping evil that you shook hands with.
He was so ready to tear each and every vampire to shreds with his own bare hands if need be. The Senator was about to be voted out of office and back into hell.
He would try to change things down here. He would care. For the people that had it the hardest. He headed over to the shelter to see if there was anything that he could do to help. He was going to spend his day trying to make whatever difference he could.
Whiskey. More. More. More. His hands were shaking.
He had thought of calling Buffy. What do you say to someone who you love when you know that you are probably not going to see them again. That had been his whole reason for existence since he came back. He must see Buffy. Buffy would see that he had changed now. That he was worthy. That his soul was every bit as worthy to love as Angel’s was. He had sacrificed himself. To save the world. But for him it had been to save Buffy and Dawn, the bit.
When he had finally gotten his chance to go to Italy it was the defining moment of his unlife. And Buffy had moved on. It had been a year. She had no reason to know that he was alive. If it would matter or not was the question. He wanted to be big enough to accept those reasons but seeing her with the Immortal had just reaffirmed all of Angel’s snide comments. ‘That why would Buffy care if he had come back? That she hadn’t felt the connection between them. That nothing was going to compare to the great love of 1999. And his one shiny perfect moment. The git! And what was with all the cookie dough comments? You would think that he had a sweet tooth but the guy never touched anything that resembled human food...
He couldn’t get drunk enough for what he wanted to do. Which was to call Buffy up and tell her how he really felt. To let all of his feeling come out and just be done with it... Buffy never seemed to handle his confessions the way he hoped she would. All the time in the past when he told her how he felt always ended up in disaster.
Since there was no way that a long distance phone call was in his future he settled down to pass the rest of the day with his second love, poetry. He could channel all of his feeling into it. And be held up for public humiliation, again...
Another shot.
“Keep it coming... Damn, gimme the bottle.”
A/N: Please give me feedback. Review me!
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