Why was he always doing that? Lapsing back into scolding me like a small child. No matter how many times he insisted that I was acting like one, I wasn't. He just didn't get it and I wasn't about to explain it to him. Still there was something really irritating about having someone, the only someone really, always make you feel about three inches tall. Couldn't he just cut me some slack on this one? Not that I really blamed him about the running away thing. If I were him I wouldn't run either, no matter how much someone insisted that I should. It didn't make it any less irritating.
He wouldn't let Kakistos kill him. That was really rich comin' from the guy who just got ressurected from the dead. Not like I just let Kakistos' best friends come and drag me off and throw me in a cage. Not like I let him nearly kill me alot. Fuck. I was so out of practice and suddenly my veins were burnin'. I just wanted to jump up and beat the fuck out of something. Kinda like I did with Wesley's shower that one time. Tara probably wouldn't appreciate me beating the shit out of her shower stall and besides, broken fingers.
I glanced from his face down to my fingers as he tugged my clothes back onto me. A couple of 'em were bent at really awkward angles and it was painful just to look at 'em. God damn. It'd been a wicked long time since I felt so much....much. Anything. It was almost a blessing in disguise or whatever the hell you call those things. I could feel sharp throbbing pain radiating from my hands up my wrists and it felt good. Because it was real. Because I was alive.
"My fingers need to be set but I can't set them myself. You have to get Angel to do it." I said firmly enough to leave absolutely no doubt about it. I was not gonna be goin' to a hospital anytime ever. Me and hospital? Unmixy things. They had the tendency to make me wanna tear off my own skin. I'd bleed to death on a sidewalk before goin' into one of those places willingly.
Letting out a burst of air from my lips I pouted a little bit and leaned back against the couch. I wish he'd stop hovering over me, it was kinda makin' me nervous.
Finally I just looked up and met his eyes, the palm of my hand resting against his wrist. How lame was that?
Ah. Of course. Angel. I knew it had to be him. Not Connor, not Illyria, not even Tara with her witch powers. Angel. It always comes back to Angel. Letting out a resigned sigh, I nod as I look at one of the more bigger bruises. Can I at least take care of those? Can I at least tell her never to worry me like this again? Can I at least tell her how she scared me to a second death? Can I at least tell her that being back alive would be meaningless without her?
But then her hand was on my wrist and I knew that, no, I wasn’t allowed.
“Fine,” I said briskly, hiding the hurt I felt at her words behind my usual mask of indifference. Getting up, I started to gather the things I had hardly been able to use back into the first aid kit. Then I quickly stepped away from her, since she made it so abundantly clear she didn’t want me around. Of course not, she had Angel now. Who had done bugger all in the years we had been stuck in Limbo. The great hero.
Alright, not entirely fair, but still.
“I’ll go get Angel,” I told her, keeping any emotion out of my voice while putting the fist aid kit back where I found it. “And then everything will be jolly good.” Closing the doors, perhaps a little bit to loud, I turned around on the balls of my feet and strode over to the door. “Provided I can find him and he’s not ducked away in the nearest dark hole. Otherwise you‘ll have to make due with Connor or Illyria.”
Why did I have the impression that I'd done something to really piss Wesley off? He was doin' that thing he did where he wouldn't tell me and he'd pretend to be just fucking fine and then bam something wicked passive aggressive would creep into his voice. Just for once I'd like to see him get pissed off enough off to yell back at me. It was so weird to see so much nothing with so much something going on just below the surface. I didn't even know what I'd done except ask him to leave. Didn't he get that I just didn't want anything to happen to him again?
Jolly good? Yeah, fucking right. Who was he trying to kid? Obviously not me. I frowned when he mentioned Connor or Illyria to set my fingers. Was that was this was about? Angel? What did Angel have to do with any of this? Maybe because I hadn't even thought about Illyria or Connor. They hadn't even crossed my mind at all. It was always about Angel. Not this time. Not after ten years of nothing. How could I believe in nothing?
Then it occured to me that I'd had nothing for almost a decade. Trapped in Limbo with Wes. I guess with so much nothing you have nothing else to believe in. Okay, that thought was starting to confuse me.
"Okay." Was all I said when I really wanted to ask him what the hell that had meant. I wanted to know why he'd suddenly decided he was pissed off at me again. Like I couldn't tell or something. But instead I just turned my face away from him and looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. All I heard was the sound of the door clicking closed before I turned my eyes back to the door.
He wouldn't let Kakistos kill him. That was really rich comin' from the guy who just got ressurected from the dead. Not like I just let Kakistos' best friends come and drag me off and throw me in a cage. Not like I let him nearly kill me alot. Fuck. I was so out of practice and suddenly my veins were burnin'. I just wanted to jump up and beat the fuck out of something. Kinda like I did with Wesley's shower that one time. Tara probably wouldn't appreciate me beating the shit out of her shower stall and besides, broken fingers.
I glanced from his face down to my fingers as he tugged my clothes back onto me. A couple of 'em were bent at really awkward angles and it was painful just to look at 'em. God damn. It'd been a wicked long time since I felt so much....much. Anything. It was almost a blessing in disguise or whatever the hell you call those things. I could feel sharp throbbing pain radiating from my hands up my wrists and it felt good. Because it was real. Because I was alive.
"My fingers need to be set but I can't set them myself. You have to get Angel to do it." I said firmly enough to leave absolutely no doubt about it. I was not gonna be goin' to a hospital anytime ever. Me and hospital? Unmixy things. They had the tendency to make me wanna tear off my own skin. I'd bleed to death on a sidewalk before goin' into one of those places willingly.
Letting out a burst of air from my lips I pouted a little bit and leaned back against the couch. I wish he'd stop hovering over me, it was kinda makin' me nervous.
Finally I just looked up and met his eyes, the palm of my hand resting against his wrist. How lame was that?
"Wes. Stop. I'm fine."
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But then her hand was on my wrist and I knew that, no, I wasn’t allowed.
“Fine,” I said briskly, hiding the hurt I felt at her words behind my usual mask of indifference. Getting up, I started to gather the things I had hardly been able to use back into the first aid kit. Then I quickly stepped away from her, since she made it so abundantly clear she didn’t want me around. Of course not, she had Angel now. Who had done bugger all in the years we had been stuck in Limbo. The great hero.
Alright, not entirely fair, but still.
“I’ll go get Angel,” I told her, keeping any emotion out of my voice while putting the fist aid kit back where I found it. “And then everything will be jolly good.” Closing the doors, perhaps a little bit to loud, I turned around on the balls of my feet and strode over to the door. “Provided I can find him and he’s not ducked away in the nearest dark hole. Otherwise you‘ll have to make due with Connor or Illyria.”
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Jolly good? Yeah, fucking right. Who was he trying to kid? Obviously not me. I frowned when he mentioned Connor or Illyria to set my fingers. Was that was this was about? Angel? What did Angel have to do with any of this? Maybe because I hadn't even thought about Illyria or Connor. They hadn't even crossed my mind at all. It was always about Angel. Not this time. Not after ten years of nothing. How could I believe in nothing?
Then it occured to me that I'd had nothing for almost a decade. Trapped in Limbo with Wes. I guess with so much nothing you have nothing else to believe in. Okay, that thought was starting to confuse me.
"Okay." Was all I said when I really wanted to ask him what the hell that had meant. I wanted to know why he'd suddenly decided he was pissed off at me again. Like I couldn't tell or something. But instead I just turned my face away from him and looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. All I heard was the sound of the door clicking closed before I turned my eyes back to the door.
Letting out a long sigh I sunk down on the couch.
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