BtVS Ficlet: Waiting For The Sun
Title: Waiting For The Sun
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Angel, Buffy.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Amends.
Summary: In desperation to end his torment, Angel decides to face the dawn and die.
Word Count: 852
Written For: cozy_coffee’s prompt ‘Any, any, Dawn Means Death,’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BTVS, or the characters.
Angel can’t cope anymore. Something is happening to him, some force is invading his mind, his dreams, twisting him up inside, driving him over the edge. He’s weak, he always has been, and even though he’s tried to be better and stronger for Buffy, now he’s losing his grip. He can feel it.
He was doing okay while she was still visiting him, while they were still making themselves out to be friends and nothing more, while they were pretending they didn’t still love each other, but ever since she told him they couldn’t see each other anymore…
His past is haunting him, memories of all his terrible, evil deeds. He sees the faces of the people he slaughtered, some of them centuries ago, hears their voices, and they’re taunting him. They’re in his head and he can’t get them out, he sees them even when he’s awake, and whether they’re ghosts, visions, hallucinations, or what, he can’t tell. All he knows is that they won’t let him rest.
And maybe he doesn’t deserve to anyway, not after everything he did to them, and to so many others like them. How many has he killed since he was turned, draining their lifeblood to sate the hunger inside him? How many more has he slaughtered simply because he enjoyed it? Hundreds? A thousand? Ten thousand? More? If he tried, would he be able to recall every face?
He shies away from the thought because he doesn’t want to know, it’s too shocking, too terrible, and the shame and guilt are overwhelming. He doesn’t want to be that creature, but a voice inside his head keeps insisting that’s all he’s good for, all he’s ever been, all he ever will be, and the worst part is that he’s beginning to believe it. He’s a vampire, after all; a creature of evil.
The voice wants him to go to Buffy, take her, lose himself in her and become the monster he was, and it’s so hard to resist because he loves her so much, wants so desperately to find peace in her arms, but the price would be too high. The last thing he’d ever want is to hurt her, not again, not after all the pain he’s already caused her, but he wants the torment to stop, and the voice claims that’s the only way.
He almost gives in, goes to her house, confused and maddened, wanting Buffy but still clinging to the shreds of his sanity just enough to resist the overwhelming temptation. He won’t do it, won’t kill the only person who’s ever loved him unconditionally, the one who means more to him than anyone else ever has.
There is another way to end his torment, he realises; a way to ensure he can never harm anyone ever again. All he has to do is die. The voice, in the form of Jenny Calendar, tells him he’s too weak, too much of a coward, to kill himself, and she’s right. He could never drive a stake through his own heart, or deliberately set himself on fire, but he doesn’t have to. He can end himself without having to do anything at all; all he needs is for the sun to rise.e
He's a creature of the night, and like all vampires, the sun’s light is lethal to him, so he leaves the safety of the mansion with its solid stone walls and heavy drapes, climbs to the top of the rise behind the town, and waits. Dawn isn’t far off now, and when the sun rises over the horizon, he’ll burn. He isn’t afraid; he’s ready.
But Buffy finds him, and perhaps he should have expected that. She begs him not to give up, and he pleads with her to let him make this sacrifice, for her, for all that’s good, and precious, and alive. The world will surely be a better place without him in it. She’s angry, and hurting, and so beautiful it rips his heart to shreds, and he wishes that it didn’t have to be this way, but it’s already too late for him to seek shelter, even if he wanted to. It’s almost over, and he knows he’ll welcome it. Death will be a relief.
Only the dawn never comes. The sun rises, but the clouds that have gathered are so thick that not the faintest glimmer can break through as the snow falls softly around them. He was ready and willing to die, but it seems something greater than him, greater even that the evil that has tried so hard to break him, doesn’t want him dead.
It’s a reprieve he never would have asked for, and he has no choice other than to accept it, but it would be a lie for him to say he isn’t grateful. It’s another chance, a rebirth of sorts, an opportunity to pledge himself once more to the fight against evil, and a reminder that love can conquer almost anything. He’s always been weak, and that’s always been his greatest failing. It’s about time he learned to be strong.
The End
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Angel, Buffy.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Amends.
Summary: In desperation to end his torment, Angel decides to face the dawn and die.
Word Count: 852
Written For: cozy_coffee’s prompt ‘Any, any, Dawn Means Death,’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BTVS, or the characters.
Angel can’t cope anymore. Something is happening to him, some force is invading his mind, his dreams, twisting him up inside, driving him over the edge. He’s weak, he always has been, and even though he’s tried to be better and stronger for Buffy, now he’s losing his grip. He can feel it.
He was doing okay while she was still visiting him, while they were still making themselves out to be friends and nothing more, while they were pretending they didn’t still love each other, but ever since she told him they couldn’t see each other anymore…
His past is haunting him, memories of all his terrible, evil deeds. He sees the faces of the people he slaughtered, some of them centuries ago, hears their voices, and they’re taunting him. They’re in his head and he can’t get them out, he sees them even when he’s awake, and whether they’re ghosts, visions, hallucinations, or what, he can’t tell. All he knows is that they won’t let him rest.
And maybe he doesn’t deserve to anyway, not after everything he did to them, and to so many others like them. How many has he killed since he was turned, draining their lifeblood to sate the hunger inside him? How many more has he slaughtered simply because he enjoyed it? Hundreds? A thousand? Ten thousand? More? If he tried, would he be able to recall every face?
He shies away from the thought because he doesn’t want to know, it’s too shocking, too terrible, and the shame and guilt are overwhelming. He doesn’t want to be that creature, but a voice inside his head keeps insisting that’s all he’s good for, all he’s ever been, all he ever will be, and the worst part is that he’s beginning to believe it. He’s a vampire, after all; a creature of evil.
The voice wants him to go to Buffy, take her, lose himself in her and become the monster he was, and it’s so hard to resist because he loves her so much, wants so desperately to find peace in her arms, but the price would be too high. The last thing he’d ever want is to hurt her, not again, not after all the pain he’s already caused her, but he wants the torment to stop, and the voice claims that’s the only way.
He almost gives in, goes to her house, confused and maddened, wanting Buffy but still clinging to the shreds of his sanity just enough to resist the overwhelming temptation. He won’t do it, won’t kill the only person who’s ever loved him unconditionally, the one who means more to him than anyone else ever has.
There is another way to end his torment, he realises; a way to ensure he can never harm anyone ever again. All he has to do is die. The voice, in the form of Jenny Calendar, tells him he’s too weak, too much of a coward, to kill himself, and she’s right. He could never drive a stake through his own heart, or deliberately set himself on fire, but he doesn’t have to. He can end himself without having to do anything at all; all he needs is for the sun to rise.e
He's a creature of the night, and like all vampires, the sun’s light is lethal to him, so he leaves the safety of the mansion with its solid stone walls and heavy drapes, climbs to the top of the rise behind the town, and waits. Dawn isn’t far off now, and when the sun rises over the horizon, he’ll burn. He isn’t afraid; he’s ready.
But Buffy finds him, and perhaps he should have expected that. She begs him not to give up, and he pleads with her to let him make this sacrifice, for her, for all that’s good, and precious, and alive. The world will surely be a better place without him in it. She’s angry, and hurting, and so beautiful it rips his heart to shreds, and he wishes that it didn’t have to be this way, but it’s already too late for him to seek shelter, even if he wanted to. It’s almost over, and he knows he’ll welcome it. Death will be a relief.
Only the dawn never comes. The sun rises, but the clouds that have gathered are so thick that not the faintest glimmer can break through as the snow falls softly around them. He was ready and willing to die, but it seems something greater than him, greater even that the evil that has tried so hard to break him, doesn’t want him dead.
It’s a reprieve he never would have asked for, and he has no choice other than to accept it, but it would be a lie for him to say he isn’t grateful. It’s another chance, a rebirth of sorts, an opportunity to pledge himself once more to the fight against evil, and a reminder that love can conquer almost anything. He’s always been weak, and that’s always been his greatest failing. It’s about time he learned to be strong.
The End