Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" or "Angel". They belong to Joss Whedon & Warner Bros. TM and © 1999. The song "Only When I Lose Myself" is written by Martin L. Gore © 1998 Grabbing Hands Music Overseas/EMI Music Publishing Ltd. All rights reserved. The lyrics are shown in parenthesis. This is a work of fan fiction and is not intended for publication or sale.
Author's Notes: This short story is mainly meant to explore the range of emotions that Angel experiences having had his heart's desire for a fleeting moment and how he immediately dealt with the repercussions that it caused within him.
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Part Three
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Angel stared at the shattered remains of the vase he threw at his staircase. He growled at the debris. He had lost control and now he was wearing his game face.
He could feel it.
It always felt different when he let that aspect of his inner demon out. The physical changes were always the first thing he felt. But he was used to it by now. It didn't really bother him anymore.
It was the inner changes that he didn't care to feel. He walked a dangerous line when he vamped out. He could feel his inner demon rage from within. He could sense it trying to take over. While Angel wore his true face- Angelus was always near the surface. It took every bit of his willpower to maintain control. It wasn't that he was afraid of losing his soul, rather he was afraid that he would succumb to his true nature while he still had one. And that was something Angel didn't think he could bear.
< I can walk like a man- but I'm not one. >
He remembered telling Buffy as much a long time ago.
He drew in a couple of deep breaths to help calm down. He finally felt his face revert back. His inner demon subsided. Yet Angel was still angry.
That's when he turned his attention elsewhere. He focused on his full sized punching bag. Without pads or tape on his hands, he struck the bag repeatedly. With each strike the bag shook violently.
< I gotta let it go. I gotta forget her. I gotta move on. I can't have her. I don't deserve her. >
Angel bounced on his feet as he moved around the bag- punching it fiercely. He was starting to work up a sweat now as he moved around it. He let out all of his frustrations on the bag. With each punch he tried to release some of his torment. Some of his pain.
The vivid memory of her in his arms immediately answered his unspoken question.
(Did I need to sell my soul for pleasure like this?)
He couldn't stop himself from remembering those stolen moments with her. The moments he lost himself in her. He treasured those moments like nothing else on this earth.
Yet even now those memories brought him pain.
Pain from the realization that they never happened. For Buffy- they never had occurred. Her only memory of being with him was of their first and only night together. The night of her birthday. The night they had both almost died.
The night he lost his soul and became Angelus again.
< I became the enemy. I became a killer. Because I wanted her. Because I lost control- >
The punching bag shook even more violently now.
Angel barely noticed that he couldn't feel his knuckles anymore.
(Did I have to lose control to treasure your kiss?)
He remembered the first time he lost control of himself around her. It was the night they had faced the Three. The Master had sent them to kill Buffy. He had come to her aid. When the Three had pursued them she had sheltered him in her house. He had admired her for trying to protect him. She hadn't been aware that he could take care of himself. At the time she hadn't known that he was a vampire. Or that he was a cursed one. He had managed to hide it from her.
Until he kissed her for the first time. They had been in her bedroom and he had tried to tell her that he shouldn't be around her. He had wanted to leave, but he had been compelled to stay. Their attraction to each other had been magnetic. Even then he had wanted her so badly that he lost control when they kissed.
How many countless nights did they spend together, after that first night, in each other's arms?
Angel could remember every one of those times. The nights they made out like they were just a couple of normal teenagers. He had been a slave to his passion for her. Before he knew that he would lose his soul if they took it further. If they made love.
The punching bag kept responding to his pain as he punched it. Angel didn't notice the bruises forming on his knuckles. Nor did he notice the blood that began to appear on the bag now.
(Did I need to place my heart in the palm of your hand? / Before I could even start / To understand)
The memory of the first night he told her that he loved her came back to him.
They had been standing together at the docks.
To show Buffy what he felt in his heart for her, Angel had a claddagh ring made just like his to fit her. He had gotten it for her birthday. It had been a testament of his undying love for her. After he had given her the ring he had tried to tell her that he loved her- but they were attacked before he could say it.
It was only later that night, just before they made love, that he told her the one thing that he knew she wanted to hear. The one thing that took him the longest to admit to her. The one thing that he knew bought him happiness and sorrow.
He had told Buffy that he loved her.
He didn't want to. But he couldn't stop. He knew that after that moment- from then on- they would have everything to lose.
With each thought Angel punched the bag as hard as he could.
(It's only when I lose myself in someone else / That I find myself / I find myself )
He had tried to stay away from her. They had tried to be just friends. She had helped him heal the wounds he had gotten from his centuries of torment. Just when they thought they could deal with their friendship, they were reminded of their need for each other.
It was the year it snowed in Sunnydale. Last Christmas. The First Evil had been slowly driving Angel insane with dreams of his victims. Then it decided to torture Angel in a different way. Buffy and he shared a dream. They were together, in her bedroom, and realizing that they were dreaming- together- they had given into their desire. They made love.
And then the recent memories tugged at him. The moments he was human. The time he had spent with Buffy. Those tender moments in which he had found heaven. The moments that didn't exist any more. Except in his mind- and heart.
< I had what I wanted. What she wanted. We had each other. And we had to give it up. >
Angel let his fists fly harder and faster. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes. He felt the knot in his throat that ached. He needed release of a different kind now.
< I gave it up. To save the lives of others. For the good fight. For honor and duty. >
Angel gave the bag one last desperate punch.
After the bag settled down he held it. And just stared at it. He felt nothing but his pain. And loss.
Angel closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the bag.
He felt the tears flow down his cheeks.
Angel didn't know for how long he stood there. He let the pain and the sorrow wash over him. He knew he had to let it out. He couldn't hold it back. He had tried. And he had failed.
"Buffy- " he breathed her name in between choked tears.
Angel pushed away from the bag. He looked down at his hands. They were bruised and covered with dried blood. His blood. He looked up at the bag. His blood was there too. He couldn't recall when it had happened. In a daze he went to his bathroom. He washed his hands and his face. His knuckles were already healing. The bruises were starting to fade.
Angel watched the water mix with his blood then flow down the drain. As he did- he wished his pain could be washed away- just as easily.
< I just have to live with it. Like I always have. It's just another burden. >
Of course that was a lie. He knew it as soon as he thought it. This new burden wasn't like anything else he had to bear. Fate had found a new way to test his strength. Only- deep down inside of himself- there was a part of him that had wanted to fail- that had wanted her all for himself.
And then it hit him again. The memory of the day and night he spent with her.
The sudden wave of pain and sorrow almost overtook him.
Angel decided to try a different approach from the punching bag. He walked back out into his apartment and stood in the largest empty space. He took a deep breath- and closed his eyes.
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