Author: Dark Star
Summary: Close your eyes…
Website: White Carousel
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is creator and owner of all things Angel
Notes: This was written for the anniversary of Angel's demise at the Angel Elders Mansion.
Distribution: Just ask, please
The cellar is cold and dank and smells of human misery. The naked figure huddled against the wall wraps his arms round his bloodied legs and rocks slowly.
//I want my life to be with you.
You don't want to be with me? I can't believe you're breaking up with me. //
He tightens his grip on his knees, and the rocking motion becomes more pronounced as he huddles against the wall for comfort.
// Drink. Drink me. //
He screams at her to get away, and his hands thrash out in front of him. But he is alone in the damp chamber; he whimpers as he remembers the thrill of feeding from her. He wants to have her, and his hands move instinctively to his groin where he grips the swollen flesh and jerks off hard at the memory of her sweet blood filling his mouth. He cries as he comes, his disgust and guilt mixing with his desire, and he is deeply ashamed. He can still taste her.
//What do you want, Angel? //
He hums Mozart's Symphony 41 as he rocks; and he screams as the hot pokers tear him up inside.
// Is that it? Am I done?/
He tries to stop Doyle from jumping but he fails; he always fails, and he is forced to watch the flesh being stripped from the Irishman's body, and he screams his anguish along with those of his friend.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…
//Wesley doesn't need you right now. *We* don't need you. You walked away. Do us a favour and just stay away. //
// It's a lot colder in here. //
// And yet, somehow, I just can't seem to care. //
Sometimes when he wakes, there is food waiting for him. He never sees who leaves it for him; he never sees or hears anyone. He is tired of being alone; he badly wants to see somebody, to touch them. It doesn't matter if they're human or demon, he just doesn't like being alone. It reminds him of waking up in his coffin and not understanding at first what was going on.
Sometimes he feels pain. He never sees who inflicts it on him, and in a crazy way he looks forward to the pain, because then he isn't alone. Pain is infinitely preferable to loneliness. He is always alone, and he wants to touch, be touched, to be hurt, even. He doesn't deserve love because he is a monster, and he believes it's right that he has to suffer for all the things he's done. He waits for the pain to begin again.
This pain is too hard to bear, and it breaks him, every single time. His despair is tangible, and he weeps for all the chances missed, for the beautiful life snuffed out, and he knows he's failed her. He let her die alone.
//vampires can't have children. //
//The father will kill the son. //
His skin bleeds; his heart bleeds. He howls openly now; the son he should never have had is gone, lost to a hostile world and it's made worse because it's Wesley that betrayed him and stole his child. He can't take this pain, not after Buffy, and he distracts himself in the only way he can. His fingers rake along his limbs, desperately tearing off strips of his own flesh in his anguish to forget the torture in his head.
He can't tell anymore what is real and what is hallucination. He hates to sleep because there is no rest to be found in slumber, and he is afraid of what awaits him when he wakes up.
Eventually he opens his eyes; he's strapped down in a box at the bottom of the ocean. He's frightened, cold and hungry. There's no escape from this horrible dark tomb; it should be silent at this depth but somebody is screaming, and he's so fucking hungry…
Make it stop, he begs. Please, make it stop.
Sunnydale High Library.
Buffy: What if... I told you that... I had a dream about Angel... and, um... it brought up some questions?
Giles: I'd say it was to be expected.
Buffy: I dreamt that he came back. Is there a chance even? Could it happen?
Giles: Well, there's no record of anyone returning from a demon dimension once the... gate was closed. I can't imagine how it could happen or… why.
//Loneliness is about the scariest thing there is. //
Make it stop…
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