(no subject)
Sleep. It's a novel concept. And I'd been getting a lot of it. In the hospital, with the help of a lot of drugs. But, they also tended to make one very groggy and make ones mind very foggy. Not to mention that one didn't really feel rested with those. Despite the fact that this is what they are supposed to do. And sleeping in a hospital bed, isn't exactly very restful either.
So I was very glad when I was finally able to lie down in a Hyperion bed. It may not be much, but it was a bed I was used to. Had been used to. It had been some time since I'd slept here. Long before we even joined Wolfram and Hart even. I'd rather not think of that time, but it's there. And no matter what I do, I can't erase it. I wouldn't want to erase it. Angel tried that, and we've seen how well that worked out.
I can't change who am, whom I've become.
After Faith left, quiet determent to...talk...to Angel, I laid there for quite some time, staring up at the ceiling. I noticed it could do with a bit of paint. A lot of paint, rather. I waited for some time, quite alert for any shouting voices coming from downstairs. But I didn't hear any, no did I hear any fighting and I must've slipped into a deeper sleep shortly after that. Thank any and all deities I didn't have any dreams, or nightmares rather. Perhaps I was to tired for that.
The sound of angry voices coming from downstairs woke me up though. I jerked awake, sitting up in bed. Wincing, I bit down on a small cry and covered my stomach with my hand. Cautiously, I pulled up my shirt and peered at the bandage. It was a familiar feeling, a familiar pain. The last time I felt something similar was when I took that bullet for Gunn. Charles Gunn, who is now quite...dead. Just like everyone else. I hope they're happy, where ever they are. They deserve it after everything they'd gone through.
The voices, both angry and somehow filled with a mixture of defeat, drifted upstairs again. I wasn't stupid. I knew that both Angel and Faith argued quite differently with each other then either one would do with me. It might, of course, have something to do with the fact that I was nothing but a mere human. And they were...well, not. I stayed right were I was, trying to rest, since sleep wasn't very forthcoming with what was going on downstairs. I had no doubt, that at one point hitting would be involved, and was not at all surprised to hear a crash every now and then.
I also knew that no matter what, they wouldn't kill each other. Hurt? No doubt, but they'd both heal fast enough. Unlike some, I thought bitterly.
When the shouting started to wind down, I moved out of the bed and got dressed again. Carefully, but quickly. It's amazing the things one learns during ones live. Though, I doubt many people will learn how to get dressed quickly and with a minimum of pain after nearly being gutted. What am I saying, 'nearly'. I had been gutted. I should've been dead. But I wasn't, and I still didn't know why. Lord knows I'd been more then ready for it. I even allowed her to lie to me.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hear, grabbed the damn walking stick and started toward the door. Angel would probably have a few choice words if I wouldn't use the damn thing. Much like Gunn and Cordelia had done...back when he'd fired us. Odd how I long for those days. Things were bad then, but at least they were both still alive. Closing the door behind me, I moved over to the stairs and raised my eyebrow when I saw them both sitting on the bottom of it. I held onto the bannister and made my way down.
"Did you two have a nice fight?" I asked dryly. And we were back at the big question looming over us. What now? Wolfram and Hart weren't going to just walk away and leave any survivors. They would, probably, come for us. Angel at the very least. He'd been a thorn in their side for god only knows how long now. So, the big question was...what did we do now? And we, I had no doubt, included Faith.
So I was very glad when I was finally able to lie down in a Hyperion bed. It may not be much, but it was a bed I was used to. Had been used to. It had been some time since I'd slept here. Long before we even joined Wolfram and Hart even. I'd rather not think of that time, but it's there. And no matter what I do, I can't erase it. I wouldn't want to erase it. Angel tried that, and we've seen how well that worked out.
I can't change who am, whom I've become.
After Faith left, quiet determent to...talk...to Angel, I laid there for quite some time, staring up at the ceiling. I noticed it could do with a bit of paint. A lot of paint, rather. I waited for some time, quite alert for any shouting voices coming from downstairs. But I didn't hear any, no did I hear any fighting and I must've slipped into a deeper sleep shortly after that. Thank any and all deities I didn't have any dreams, or nightmares rather. Perhaps I was to tired for that.
The sound of angry voices coming from downstairs woke me up though. I jerked awake, sitting up in bed. Wincing, I bit down on a small cry and covered my stomach with my hand. Cautiously, I pulled up my shirt and peered at the bandage. It was a familiar feeling, a familiar pain. The last time I felt something similar was when I took that bullet for Gunn. Charles Gunn, who is now quite...dead. Just like everyone else. I hope they're happy, where ever they are. They deserve it after everything they'd gone through.
The voices, both angry and somehow filled with a mixture of defeat, drifted upstairs again. I wasn't stupid. I knew that both Angel and Faith argued quite differently with each other then either one would do with me. It might, of course, have something to do with the fact that I was nothing but a mere human. And they were...well, not. I stayed right were I was, trying to rest, since sleep wasn't very forthcoming with what was going on downstairs. I had no doubt, that at one point hitting would be involved, and was not at all surprised to hear a crash every now and then.
I also knew that no matter what, they wouldn't kill each other. Hurt? No doubt, but they'd both heal fast enough. Unlike some, I thought bitterly.
When the shouting started to wind down, I moved out of the bed and got dressed again. Carefully, but quickly. It's amazing the things one learns during ones live. Though, I doubt many people will learn how to get dressed quickly and with a minimum of pain after nearly being gutted. What am I saying, 'nearly'. I had been gutted. I should've been dead. But I wasn't, and I still didn't know why. Lord knows I'd been more then ready for it. I even allowed her to lie to me.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hear, grabbed the damn walking stick and started toward the door. Angel would probably have a few choice words if I wouldn't use the damn thing. Much like Gunn and Cordelia had done...back when he'd fired us. Odd how I long for those days. Things were bad then, but at least they were both still alive. Closing the door behind me, I moved over to the stairs and raised my eyebrow when I saw them both sitting on the bottom of it. I held onto the bannister and made my way down.
"Did you two have a nice fight?" I asked dryly. And we were back at the big question looming over us. What now? Wolfram and Hart weren't going to just walk away and leave any survivors. They would, probably, come for us. Angel at the very least. He'd been a thorn in their side for god only knows how long now. So, the big question was...what did we do now? And we, I had no doubt, included Faith.