Angel in Hell
Fire. Brimstone. They surrounded the lost vampire completely. For weeks Angel just lay on the stone, hoping that he was dreaming. He knew he wasn't though. He hadn't even had nightmares this bad when he was at his worst, right after the curse. He used to stay awake for weeks at a time then, just to avoid the things that haunted him in his sleep. This was different though.
It didn't take Angel very long to figure out where he was. Buffy. Acathla. The fight. He was in hell. Not the kind where all sorts of evil things live and torture you with pitchforks. This was the other hell. The one that was a playground for whatever evil power controlled it. The kind where his mind was the plaything.
A body breaks down relatively quickly. Angel had mastered the art of physical torture in under a century. Mental torture came naturally to him, but there was only so much he could accomplish with the limited power he had.
It took years for the hellfire to crack his will. He could have dealt with the heat, but in the long run it was the lack of anything else that got the better of him. In the infinite expanse of hell he was completely lost. His happy memories acted like a battery for his will, and when they eventually ran out all that was left was fire. That was when hell began for him.
He couldn't think strait anymore. His mind was just a confused mess of all the murders he'd committed. All of the people who's lives he destroyed. They weren't even coherent. They were just painful. They had no beginning or end, no chronology about them. They were, like the fire, everywhere. Sometimes he would weep for his victims. Sometimes he would weep for himself. Most of all he would weep from the memories that remained of Buffy; he only had painful ones left. He couldn't even concentrate on one memory of Buffy to remember her, even if for a moment. All he could feel was the pain he'd caused her, reflected in his broken mind.
This torture for his mind and soul lasted for what seemed like hundreds of years. He was entirely broken then, completely without his humanity. He was an animal now, responding only to what he could sense, and what he could feel, and for a long time all that was offered to him was pain.
The most terrible and most amazing part of being a human is the possession of a soul. Souls are our what ties people to mysticism and spirituality. Souls are magical, and they are the source of humanity. It is why humans are special. Souls are the part of humans that carry on after death, and into new life. They are the part of us that remembers things forever. They makes us feel real emotions in ways that demons can not. Except Angel.
The soul living in the immortal body of the vampire is truly unique. Humans only get to explore their souls for the natural course of their life before it moves on. Angel, on the other hand, had centuries to learn all his soul had to offer, and likewise his soul had centuries to learn all that he had to offer.
This singularly important feature allowed Angel to retain indefinitely some part of himself during his time in hell. It also enabled a whole new level of torture.
Time hadn't meant anything for a while. Angel couldn't really remember anything about his past. He had shut it all out of his head, surviving on just his basic functions. He would spend years without moving. It meant nothing to him anymore.
Very suddenly, and for only a moment, Angel can see her face. Buffy. Energy jolts through him, memories are pulled to the surface, and for a second - just a second, he thinks he can almost feel his heart beat. And as quickly as it came, it vanished. Angel is left in new anguish.
That one dagger struck deep, and the wound stayed with him more pronounced than anything else. It was his only memory now. Angel passed through different phases of consciousness, and for a long time felt as though he was falling. He passed through seas of painful feelings, and when he finally opened his eyes the fire was gone.
He was living in a memory now. It was cold and dark and the reality of it all hurt. The one image that his eyes fed him called foreword a world of sorrow. Her face staring into his made him feel all sorts of pain that he had spent years pushing down inside himself. He couldn't think anymore.
He was overwhelmed by this new hell. Everything was a reminder of what he'd never really have. The pictures and the smells and the sounds teased him. This was the worst part yet. The picture reached out and for the first time he felt something that wasn't hot or hard, and it made his soul scream out in an exasperated cry. He withdrew, both in body and mind. His only instinct was to fight this new evil change.
***
Slowly a tear trickled from Buffy's eye as she knealt beside the nude, fetal, broken figure of her dead lover. Is this real? She thought. Please, let this be real. Let Angel be back with me.
***
"You're home now" the picture lied. The noise hurt him.
***
"Angel." The word barely escaped her lips. "You're home now."
END
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