You Just Need a Change of Scenery
Title: You Just Need a Change of Scenery.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Characters: Angel/Buffy.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 352.
Spoilers: None really, because it's AU.
Summary: It's as if the longer it takes to get to the freshly laid dirt, the less real it all is.
Notes: Written for bringthewonder who wanted Angel/Buffy, with the prompt I just want one more chance to put my arms in fragile hands. Title is from City & Colour's "In the Water, I am Beautiful".
The day was sunny and crisp, the colours so bright that they were nearly blinding. He had sat in his car, windows blackened with paint, waiting for his chance to be with her again. The hours dragged to the point where he thought that the darkness had died with her.
Finally, when the sun settles behind the curves of the earth and the moon takes its place, Angel steps out of his car. He isn't quick; he doesn't run to her gravestone but instead takes his time, paces himself. It's as if the longer it takes to get to the freshly laid dirt, the less real it all is.
He stands at her grave that first night, the wind catching his unnecessary breath and taking it away. He doesn't breathe, doesn't blink, doesn't move for hours on end.
An hour before the sun starts to rise, he falls to his knees and sobs. His enter body aches and shakes with them, the sound cutting into the now still night air. He tears at the dirt, longs to toss it all away and crawl in beside her, spend eternity in her deceptively fragile looking hands.
For a moment, he considers staying put, even as the sun rises. Becoming dust that settles into the dirt above her seems like a worthy end, but then he realizes that Cordy was right -- he has to live, to fight so that he can honor her.
His hands shake as he pulls himself up. His forehead rests against the carved letters of her name and he presses a kiss to the cold stone, his sob echoing off of it.
The sun is nearly over the edge of the earth when he finally picks himself up, wipes his face and walks away.
He knows that a piece of him -- a very large piece -- died with her. She was his world for so long that he isn't too sure how to go on.
But he starts his car, puts it into drive and with one last, pained look over his shoulder, he drives back to Los Angeles.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Characters: Angel/Buffy.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 352.
Spoilers: None really, because it's AU.
Summary: It's as if the longer it takes to get to the freshly laid dirt, the less real it all is.
Notes: Written for bringthewonder who wanted Angel/Buffy, with the prompt I just want one more chance to put my arms in fragile hands. Title is from City & Colour's "In the Water, I am Beautiful".
The day was sunny and crisp, the colours so bright that they were nearly blinding. He had sat in his car, windows blackened with paint, waiting for his chance to be with her again. The hours dragged to the point where he thought that the darkness had died with her.
Finally, when the sun settles behind the curves of the earth and the moon takes its place, Angel steps out of his car. He isn't quick; he doesn't run to her gravestone but instead takes his time, paces himself. It's as if the longer it takes to get to the freshly laid dirt, the less real it all is.
He stands at her grave that first night, the wind catching his unnecessary breath and taking it away. He doesn't breathe, doesn't blink, doesn't move for hours on end.
An hour before the sun starts to rise, he falls to his knees and sobs. His enter body aches and shakes with them, the sound cutting into the now still night air. He tears at the dirt, longs to toss it all away and crawl in beside her, spend eternity in her deceptively fragile looking hands.
For a moment, he considers staying put, even as the sun rises. Becoming dust that settles into the dirt above her seems like a worthy end, but then he realizes that Cordy was right -- he has to live, to fight so that he can honor her.
His hands shake as he pulls himself up. His forehead rests against the carved letters of her name and he presses a kiss to the cold stone, his sob echoing off of it.
The sun is nearly over the edge of the earth when he finally picks himself up, wipes his face and walks away.
He knows that a piece of him -- a very large piece -- died with her. She was his world for so long that he isn't too sure how to go on.
But he starts his car, puts it into drive and with one last, pained look over his shoulder, he drives back to Los Angeles.