It feels good to be next to him, but it won't last. I'll manage to kill him somehow. And that light and heat that's Wes will be gone. Sooner than later. I can't keep this distance between us. I think our knees bump or my fingers brush his leg as I twist towards him but I'm not sure. It's too fleeting. It's all too fleeting.
"Yeah, this. Don't you see it, Wes? This distance. We're not friends. I wish that was another lie, but it's not, is it?" I say it equally softly, not really wanting the reality of it to pass my lips. I look at him to confirm this, hoping he'll disagree, but knowing he can't. Won't. The anger and bitterness are too deep.
"Can it go away? Because it's not right. You know it's not." My voice sounds thin and childish even to my own ears, and I can't keep it from shaking a little either. Is he going to spit this in my face? Tell me it'll never be right? Because that's all I can hear ringing in my ears. When is his anger going to spill over? Be bitten out in tight syllables and hissed tones of blame. Will I survive?
This isn't about me, I struggle to tell myself, but I can't help feeling lost when I look at Wes. Why did I ever let it get this bad? What made me think I could make this right by shoving him away? It's my fault. I know it is. But it has to be fixable. I can't watch one more thing break. Again.
I frowned when he suddenly turned toward me. Torn between jumping away and pulling him closer. Some part of his body connected with mine, and I had to grit my teeth to stop myself from demanding more. That part was over, I had no right. He had no…. need. He’s moved on, though he never really paused with me now did he? It was I who’d hit the breaks hard when it came to them. I never realized what a chain reaction that would give. What an incredible mess that would create.
Focus here, Pryce, he’s trying to tell you something and we all know how good Angel is with words.
I know I turned about as white as a sheet when he said we were no longer friends. We’d been living a lie. My stomach turned and my hands clenched into fists. It was a lie, it had been a lie. Thank to the changing of memories. “Only because you never gave us a chance,” I muttered, knowing full well that things might’ve not worked out then either. But we didn’t know, did we? And we would never know.
And now so much was lost. Not just Fred, not just Cordelia. Not just our friendship. I feel empty inside, hollow. Nothing left, why do I still go on? Why do I still try? He’s the reason, he was always the reason. And just when I finally though I’d let go of that, moved on with Fred’s help, she had been torn away from me. And I had nothing to fall back on, nothing to cling onto in desperation. Because my reason had never really stopped to wait for me. Or stopped period.
Sighing, I leaned back against the sofa, I stared at him for a long time. Looking into those familiar brown eyes, noticing that familiar childless whine in his voice again. I’d have smiled had I the energy for it. As it was, I didn’t even feel like fighting him anymore. “What do you want me to do, Angel? Wave my magic want and wish it away? I’ve not asked for this. I’ve not asked to get my throat cut and my friends leaving me. I’ve not asked for my girlfriend to killed out by some ancient goddess who then takes over her body. I’ve not asked for you to chain you up to your new ‘project’.“
I sighed again, running a hand over my face and into my hair. “I’ve not asked for…’this’, Angel. But it’s there, and if you want it to go away…..” Perhaps that is why he keeps pushing and pushing until he’s pushed me way far enough there’s nothing left to push.
I shake my head. "It wasn't a choice." I mutter back, just as softly. I doubt he blames me for trying to save Connor. He knows just as well as I do that everything comes with a price. If it had been Wesley or Cordy I'd have paid it the same way. It was never a choice. The father will kill the son. He'd been right. Like every other time.
What he says about Fred and his throat cuts deep and it takes more than a little control not to start shouting at the accusations, making them go away with force, not wanting to feel the guilt all over again. Because all of it is my fault. It always is.
The part about Lindsey makes me bristle a little, the way he says it, but I ignore it. What does he care about Lindsey and me? He keeps bringing him up, when Lindsey is hardly a threat. Enemies, yes, but he can't possibly know about the other stuff...the elevator... I come back to the present when he starts speaking again and his words are just the opening I was looking for.
"I do want it to go away. I want us to be friends again...or at least try. If you want," I added quickly. Just because it was what I wanted didn't mean a damn thing with Wes. "I hate seeing you like this, Wes." You've disappeared. You're fading fast, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
He looks so tired, frustrated, confused. I want to help, to make him Wes again. "Well, Wes, what would you ask for?" I want my hand on his arm, his leg, on any part of him. I need an anchor. We both do. ...Cordy...but not anymore. She'd been so strong. Seeing her again made my heart feel alive, like maybe things could be different. But then there had been the vision and I was screwed again. And Wes was still next to me and as far away as another person could be. I can't look at him like that and not feel overwhelmed with a need to make it go away. My hand sneaks on to his knee again, an effort at comfort, but also because I need to. It's too hard not to with so many other things I'm trying to hold back. Hopefully, it's okay to let this one slip.
My words seem to plunge him into deep thought. A lot of people may claim to know Angel, but few really do. Cordelia knew, Buffy knew. I guess Spike does, even if he doesn’t admit it. Darla and Dru didn’t, they only knew Angelus. And at one point I thought I did. This is why I took away Connor. Because I *knew* Angel and what could happen should Angelus return. Seeing Angel so happy with his son, it was a very big possibility. As well as luring him in by spiking his blood with Connors.
It was one of the few things I’ve done of my many failures that I both regret and don’t regret. I’d do it again, with the same information I had then. Taking Connor, saving Angel. Saving him from the guilt. All things considered, no matter how I turn it around and look at it. I failed him. Again. Both him and Connor.
When Angel spoke again, I realized that he’d not been the only one who had plunged into deep thought. It once again astounds me that we both seem to mirror the other’s actions without even noticing it. Now if only we could stop betraying each other as well. Hurt without meaning to. Love without knowing if it’s returned. Hope, without knowing if there’s anything left to hope.
I can feel his hand on my knee again and close my eyes against the comfort it gives. I shouldn’t crave it, I shouldn’t need to want it. But I do, have always and apparently we humans don’t come with an off switch. Were that the case I’d have turned it off years ago. I think my heart jumped when he said he wanted us to be friends again. I know Angel must have heard it too. A tiny flutter of hope, into a body which is quickly fading away. Tuning into the shell the so called love of his live already is. My hands slips over his without thought and I turn to look at him. I’d never really been able to hide anything from him. Except that time I had been tossed out of the proverbial garden of eden. I’d been able to hide a lot then. I wonder if I still can, or if he’s capable of reading me like the open book I once was to him.
“I never stopped being your friend,” I whispered, unconsciously squeezing his hand again. The skin cool and familiar under my warm and callused one. Why in the hell did he think I want through all that shit known as my life? Because it was the right thing to do? Because the world needed it’s champion? That was only part of it. Most of it was because of him.
My heart broke a little when he said he hated seeing me like this, a bit of moisture gathering where it shouldn’t. I didn’t cry, there is nothing left to cry for. I spilled all I had for Fred. I wasn’t worthy of tears, never have been, never will be. But it felt like a knife to the gut to know that it must hurt Angel and I couldn’t help but wonder why it hurt him.
The world truly was a confusing, angry and frustrated place. What did I want? I wanted rest. I wanted to be able to sleep again. I wanted to close my eyes and not see Fred dying. I wanted to open my eyes and not see Illyria in Fred’s body. I wanted Angel’s forgiveness for what I had done over the years. I wanted to say I was sorry but knew I never would. I wanted so many things. Which, now that I think about it, is odd with how *dead* I feel inside.
Tilting my head to the side, I sighed and gave him a helpless look. I shrugged, indicating that I didn’t know while my thumb rubbed circles over his hand. “I’m just so tired, Angel,” I said quietly. “I just want it stop, why can’t it ever stop. Even for just a little while?” Why can’t they let me sleep? Why can’t they ever leave me alone? Even if it’s only for a day.
He looks at me and I think I may go into shock at the emotion I see there. And his hand, I can't think about his hand and why it's there touching me. When his hand connects with my skin it's hard to do anything but remain very, very still like some beast trying not to frighten away its prey. Hope is too much to hope for. Those strong, fine hands. Killer's hands, just like mine. And that little skitter of his heartbeat made something rise in my throat that I hadn't felt in a long time. Too much to hope for. The haze of him around me is hypnotizing. I honestly can't think of a more worthy cause than this man. Bringing him back to life would be the impossible task. One I dearly I want to succeed at.
"No?" my voice asks almost silently. "You should have. Done more damage than good with you, Wes. I was too busy thinking I was protecting you when I should have been trying to protect you from myself. Forgive me?" He should have kept going. I shouldn't have kept trying to keep him for myself. Should have stayed a Rogue Demon Hunter and went on his starving, merry way that day. Would have been better for both of us.
When he squeezes my hand, I flip my wrist and squeeze back. He can't get away. Please, don't slip away. Cordy, Connor, Fred. Spike, Lorne and Gunn aren't far behind. And Doyle. Can't forget Doyle. When I heard that name come out of Lindsey's mouth I wanted him ripped apart, one inch of skin at a time, and sewn back together so I could do it again, pretty face or not. Using a dead man's name...that's just sacrilege, even for me. Lost the first partner. Can't lose the second. Won't.
And then the slow circles - I must be kidding myself if I think I'm going to be able to go back to not touching him after this. My other hand reaches up to his face, wanting the moisture in his eyes to never have been there. I'm not sure what I said or did to cause it, but it hurts to watch him suffer for what I've done. And without question. He just takes it. Every. Fucking. Time. And all I can do is let the woman he loves die. He really should have disappeared that day. Maybe he would be sane and whole. Maybe he wouldn't have to keep suffering.
My hand actually does reach his face and I run a thumb over his cheek, barely grazing the surface. I wonder if I'm really touching him at all. It seems so foreign and far away to be able to do this. "It'll stop, Wes. Soon. I'm going to make it stop. Promise." If there is no other reason to go through with this plan than letting Wes be free of this place then that's more than enough of a reasong for me to keep trying. It's never going to work, but I have to try.
I should’ve what? Stopped being his friend? I couldn’t stop being his friend, it was the only thing I had left. Even after Fred died and Gunn betrayed us all, it was the only thing I had left. Is the only thing I had left. And even during *those* days, the days I spend alone shagging Lilah from time to time, it was the hope which kept me going. The hope that I could still salvage our friendship, the hope that he could forgive me. Of course that last part was an idle dream and I knew it. He should not forgive for taking Connor. I was based on a lie, I destroyed lives not just my own. Mostly his and Connor, no matter how well meaning.
His next words shock me though, and I hold onto his hands tightly. As though I’m afraid he’s going to run from the room. Leave me again. Forgive…him? Why? For what? It takes me a few moment to realize what he may mean with that. For taking away my memories? For…treating me like nothing but a mere lackey? I’m your faithful servant Angel. What exactly does he want forgiveness for?
In the end it doesn’t really matter. Because he is Angel. Yes, I’m bitter and angry about everything that has happened. I feel lonely and desperate and….ready to give up. But here with me on the sofa is just about the only reason for me not to give up. “Of course I forgive you,” I whispered, leaning into the hand on my face.
I don’t know where it came from, nor do I care. It’s there and I’m going to take all the comfort I can get from him. All the comfort he’s willing to give, no matter how small. My eyes close and I can feel a tear make its way down my face. Maybe two. Silently cursing myself for that, because that wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m supposed to be the strong one, the reliable one, the one they all turn to when they’ve questions. But I’m so tired of it, I’m tired of not having the answer. I’m tired of having to be strong. I’m….tired.
“You will?” I ask quietly when he promises me he’ll make it stop. Make it go away. Bringing up my other hand, I put it over the one on my face. My eyes open and I give him a watery smile. It actually hurts to smile, how long has it been since I smiled? Since there has been a *reason* to smile? And I want to believe him, I want to believe him so much. But it’s a lie, nothing can make it go away. I just keeps coming, one wave after another. Just when you found a little bit of normalcy, a little bit of peace and quiet, life kicks you down and not just in the teeth. It knocks you teeth out beyond repair.
My eyes close again as I nuzzle the palm of his hand. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Angel,” I whisper, knowing the lie for what it is. Grateful to the person…vampire, for trying anyway. My warm breath tickles cool skin as I let out a small sigh. Just so damn tired of it all. Just want to sleep, and wake up from this nightmare. But since that’s not going to happen, I just wish I could sleep.
I don't understand the grip he's got on my hand, and when says he forgives me I feel like everything that's been bad lately doesn't matter anymore, but it doesn't seem real. Forgiveness or Wes squeezing my hand like I'm the only thing he's got left. It feels good, feels right. I'm probably squeezing back a little too hard in the relief of hearing those words. A smile would probably be plastered across my face if it weren't for Wes still looking so dead and tired. I'm half expecting Harmony or Hamilton to walk in here any minute and ruin this. So long. I tried to kill him, let the only thing that made him happy die, and he can still forgive me. "So we're even? Clean slate for both of us?" I forgave him so long ago. If he still questions that... I know he didn't believe me when I told him last year, but enough time has passed, surely he doesn't still think I blame him.
When he leans in and I feel the tears, I can't feel any but him. The little trails of salt slide down his cheek and I slowly wipe them away with my thumb. I want to hold him, let him rest and feel safe, let this whole mess fade away. But our world is never as kind as that, as Wes knows. "Hey," I say softly, "I've got you." And when he looks up at me with that small hopeful smile, I have to put my arm around him and guide him in close. He deserves so much more than this tiny sliver of hope. I am damn well going to give it to him. I am going to make it stop.
I don't know what else to do so I just hold him lightly against my chest, wondering if the lack of a heartbeat is as unsettling as I think it is. Feels too good having him this close; he must be really overwhelmed to let me do this. Stalwart, strong, unflagging Wes letting tears fall in my arms. It's worse than knowing how much he must be hurting. I let him stay where he is for a little while, getting entranced by his heartbeat. Something in this building is still alive. Just barely.
"Can't do it alone, Wes. I'm gonna make it stop, promise or no promise, but... I need you." I continue softly from where he left off. I don't want to bring this back up, but he needs to hear it. I don't think I can tell him everything. Too dangerous. Either way it's too dangerous, but I can't let Wes take on so much. I only need a little from him. Well, that's lie, but the rest of it he can't afford to give me even if he wanted to. I'm not meant for Wesley, and he deserves more than a dead Champion who can never seem to stop hurting him. And I don't want to hurt him anymore. Protection is the best and worst I can give him.
I can’t help but give him a somewhat bemused look when he mentions the clean slate. It’s good to know that underneath it all, he’s still Angel. Still the champion I’ve come to know. Still quite….dense, when it comes to certain things. Still in need of reassurance. Still needing to hear the actual words. His hand is still on my face, cool against my now warm cheeks as I give him a tired smile. Half smile. It’s not much, but it’s all I can manage. “Yes, Angel,” I say quietly, “Even though there was nothing really to get ‘even’ about.” Makes it sound a though we’re in a bloody contest.
And suddenly, its all a little bit to much. Especially when he says he’s got me. No, he doesn’t, he’s not gotten me for a very long time now. Mostly because he didn’t want me, needed me, dared himself to. And I understood that. Which didn’t mean so say that it hadn’t hurt me. Especially when he started to pant after Cordelia. Making me wonder what she had I hadn’t. Perhaps it had been that tiny bit of jealously which cause me *not* to call her when I took Connor and ran for it.
But hearing him say those words, is just a little to much. And when his arm slide around me and he pulls me closer, all I can do is just lean against him and break down like the pathetic human I am. It all comes crushing down. Cordelia dying, Fred dying, getting my throat cut, getting my memories back….mostly loosing Angel and never really getting back what I’d lost. What we’d lost. Pressing my lips into a thin line, I breath in and out through my nose, refusing to let emotion taking me over. I’ve never been one for that, only at desperate times.
Such as Angel saying he’s still my ….friend.
And I want to believe him so badly. That he’ll make it stop, that he’ll make it go away. But other then actually killing me? I know it’ll never really go away. It doesn’t feel as though it’ll go away. Illyria will always be there, using *her* face to mock me with my failure. Angel will always be there and I know that I remind him of what could’ve been. Him, Cordelia and Connor, one happy family. And all that’s left of it, is the man who took that away now trying not to sob in his arms.
Hate this. So tired of everything.
“No you don’t,” I mumble, letting the exhaustion of the last few hours, days, weeks, settle over me. I feel odly save where I am now, even snuggling up a bit closer. Pulling my feet up on the sofa, I lean against him a bit more, closing my eyes. Better be careful, or I might fall asleep right here. Doubt he’ll appreciate that. “No one ever needs me, Angel. Least of you.”
"Yeah, this. Don't you see it, Wes? This distance. We're not friends. I wish that was another lie, but it's not, is it?" I say it equally softly, not really wanting the reality of it to pass my lips. I look at him to confirm this, hoping he'll disagree, but knowing he can't. Won't. The anger and bitterness are too deep.
"Can it go away? Because it's not right. You know it's not." My voice sounds thin and childish even to my own ears, and I can't keep it from shaking a little either. Is he going to spit this in my face? Tell me it'll never be right? Because that's all I can hear ringing in my ears. When is his anger going to spill over? Be bitten out in tight syllables and hissed tones of blame. Will I survive?
This isn't about me, I struggle to tell myself, but I can't help feeling lost when I look at Wes. Why did I ever let it get this bad? What made me think I could make this right by shoving him away? It's my fault. I know it is. But it has to be fixable. I can't watch one more thing break. Again.
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Focus here, Pryce, he’s trying to tell you something and we all know how good Angel is with words.
I know I turned about as white as a sheet when he said we were no longer friends. We’d been living a lie. My stomach turned and my hands clenched into fists. It was a lie, it had been a lie. Thank to the changing of memories. “Only because you never gave us a chance,” I muttered, knowing full well that things might’ve not worked out then either. But we didn’t know, did we? And we would never know.
And now so much was lost. Not just Fred, not just Cordelia. Not just our friendship. I feel empty inside, hollow. Nothing left, why do I still go on? Why do I still try? He’s the reason, he was always the reason. And just when I finally though I’d let go of that, moved on with Fred’s help, she had been torn away from me. And I had nothing to fall back on, nothing to cling onto in desperation. Because my reason had never really stopped to wait for me. Or stopped period.
Sighing, I leaned back against the sofa, I stared at him for a long time. Looking into those familiar brown eyes, noticing that familiar childless whine in his voice again. I’d have smiled had I the energy for it. As it was, I didn’t even feel like fighting him anymore. “What do you want me to do, Angel? Wave my magic want and wish it away? I’ve not asked for this. I’ve not asked to get my throat cut and my friends leaving me. I’ve not asked for my girlfriend to killed out by some ancient goddess who then takes over her body. I’ve not asked for you to chain you up to your new ‘project’.“
I sighed again, running a hand over my face and into my hair. “I’ve not asked for…’this’, Angel. But it’s there, and if you want it to go away…..” Perhaps that is why he keeps pushing and pushing until he’s pushed me way far enough there’s nothing left to push.
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What he says about Fred and his throat cuts deep and it takes more than a little control not to start shouting at the accusations, making them go away with force, not wanting to feel the guilt all over again. Because all of it is my fault. It always is.
The part about Lindsey makes me bristle a little, the way he says it, but I ignore it. What does he care about Lindsey and me? He keeps bringing him up, when Lindsey is hardly a threat. Enemies, yes, but he can't possibly know about the other stuff...the elevator... I come back to the present when he starts speaking again and his words are just the opening I was looking for.
"I do want it to go away. I want us to be friends again...or at least try. If you want," I added quickly. Just because it was what I wanted didn't mean a damn thing with Wes. "I hate seeing you like this, Wes." You've disappeared. You're fading fast, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
He looks so tired, frustrated, confused. I want to help, to make him Wes again. "Well, Wes, what would you ask for?" I want my hand on his arm, his leg, on any part of him. I need an anchor. We both do. ...Cordy...but not anymore. She'd been so strong. Seeing her again made my heart feel alive, like maybe things could be different. But then there had been the vision and I was screwed again. And Wes was still next to me and as far away as another person could be. I can't look at him like that and not feel overwhelmed with a need to make it go away. My hand sneaks on to his knee again, an effort at comfort, but also because I need to. It's too hard not to with so many other things I'm trying to hold back. Hopefully, it's okay to let this one slip.
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It was one of the few things I’ve done of my many failures that I both regret and don’t regret. I’d do it again, with the same information I had then. Taking Connor, saving Angel. Saving him from the guilt. All things considered, no matter how I turn it around and look at it. I failed him. Again. Both him and Connor.
When Angel spoke again, I realized that he’d not been the only one who had plunged into deep thought. It once again astounds me that we both seem to mirror the other’s actions without even noticing it. Now if only we could stop betraying each other as well. Hurt without meaning to. Love without knowing if it’s returned. Hope, without knowing if there’s anything left to hope.
I can feel his hand on my knee again and close my eyes against the comfort it gives. I shouldn’t crave it, I shouldn’t need to want it. But I do, have always and apparently we humans don’t come with an off switch. Were that the case I’d have turned it off years ago.
I think my heart jumped when he said he wanted us to be friends again. I know Angel must have heard it too. A tiny flutter of hope, into a body which is quickly fading away. Tuning into the shell the so called love of his live already is. My hands slips over his without thought and I turn to look at him. I’d never really been able to hide anything from him. Except that time I had been tossed out of the proverbial garden of eden. I’d been able to hide a lot then. I wonder if I still can, or if he’s capable of reading me like the open book I once was to him.
“I never stopped being your friend,” I whispered, unconsciously squeezing his hand again. The skin cool and familiar under my warm and callused one. Why in the hell did he think I want through all that shit known as my life? Because it was the right thing to do? Because the world needed it’s champion? That was only part of it. Most of it was because of him.
My heart broke a little when he said he hated seeing me like this, a bit of moisture gathering where it shouldn’t. I didn’t cry, there is nothing left to cry for. I spilled all I had for Fred. I wasn’t worthy of tears, never have been, never will be. But it felt like a knife to the gut to know that it must hurt Angel and I couldn’t help but wonder why it hurt him.
The world truly was a confusing, angry and frustrated place. What did I want? I wanted rest. I wanted to be able to sleep again. I wanted to close my eyes and not see Fred dying. I wanted to open my eyes and not see Illyria in Fred’s body. I wanted Angel’s forgiveness for what I had done over the years. I wanted to say I was sorry but knew I never would. I wanted so many things. Which, now that I think about it, is odd with how *dead* I feel inside.
Tilting my head to the side, I sighed and gave him a helpless look. I shrugged, indicating that I didn’t know while my thumb rubbed circles over his hand. “I’m just so tired, Angel,” I said quietly. “I just want it stop, why can’t it ever stop. Even for just a little while?” Why can’t they let me sleep? Why can’t they ever leave me alone? Even if it’s only for a day.
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"No?" my voice asks almost silently. "You should have. Done more damage than good with you, Wes. I was too busy thinking I was protecting you when I should have been trying to protect you from myself. Forgive me?" He should have kept going. I shouldn't have kept trying to keep him for myself. Should have stayed a Rogue Demon Hunter and went on his starving, merry way that day. Would have been better for both of us.
When he squeezes my hand, I flip my wrist and squeeze back. He can't get away. Please, don't slip away. Cordy, Connor, Fred. Spike, Lorne and Gunn aren't far behind. And Doyle. Can't forget Doyle. When I heard that name come out of Lindsey's mouth I wanted him ripped apart, one inch of skin at a time, and sewn back together so I could do it again, pretty face or not. Using a dead man's name...that's just sacrilege, even for me. Lost the first partner. Can't lose the second. Won't.
And then the slow circles - I must be kidding myself if I think I'm going to be able to go back to not touching him after this. My other hand reaches up to his face, wanting the moisture in his eyes to never have been there. I'm not sure what I said or did to cause it, but it hurts to watch him suffer for what I've done. And without question. He just takes it. Every. Fucking. Time. And all I can do is let the woman he loves die. He really should have disappeared that day. Maybe he would be sane and whole. Maybe he wouldn't have to keep suffering.
My hand actually does reach his face and I run a thumb over his cheek, barely grazing the surface. I wonder if I'm really touching him at all. It seems so foreign and far away to be able to do this. "It'll stop, Wes. Soon. I'm going to make it stop. Promise." If there is no other reason to go through with this plan than letting Wes be free of this place then that's more than enough of a reasong for me to keep trying. It's never going to work, but I have to try.
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His next words shock me though, and I hold onto his hands tightly. As though I’m afraid he’s going to run from the room. Leave me again. Forgive…him? Why? For what? It takes me a few moment to realize what he may mean with that. For taking away my memories? For…treating me like nothing but a mere lackey? I’m your faithful servant Angel. What exactly does he want forgiveness for?
In the end it doesn’t really matter. Because he is Angel. Yes, I’m bitter and angry about everything that has happened. I feel lonely and desperate and….ready to give up. But here with me on the sofa is just about the only reason for me not to give up. “Of course I forgive you,” I whispered, leaning into the hand on my face.
I don’t know where it came from, nor do I care. It’s there and I’m going to take all the comfort I can get from him. All the comfort he’s willing to give, no matter how small. My eyes close and I can feel a tear make its way down my face. Maybe two. Silently cursing myself for that, because that wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m supposed to be the strong one, the reliable one, the one they all turn to when they’ve questions. But I’m so tired of it, I’m tired of not having the answer. I’m tired of having to be strong. I’m….tired.
“You will?” I ask quietly when he promises me he’ll make it stop. Make it go away. Bringing up my other hand, I put it over the one on my face. My eyes open and I give him a watery smile. It actually hurts to smile, how long has it been since I smiled? Since there has been a *reason* to smile? And I want to believe him, I want to believe him so much. But it’s a lie, nothing can make it go away. I just keeps coming, one wave after another. Just when you found a little bit of normalcy, a little bit of peace and quiet, life kicks you down and not just in the teeth. It knocks you teeth out beyond repair.
My eyes close again as I nuzzle the palm of his hand. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Angel,” I whisper, knowing the lie for what it is. Grateful to the person…vampire, for trying anyway. My warm breath tickles cool skin as I let out a small sigh. Just so damn tired of it all. Just want to sleep, and wake up from this nightmare. But since that’s not going to happen, I just wish I could sleep.
“Thank you for trying though.”
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When he leans in and I feel the tears, I can't feel any but him. The little trails of salt slide down his cheek and I slowly wipe them away with my thumb. I want to hold him, let him rest and feel safe, let this whole mess fade away. But our world is never as kind as that, as Wes knows. "Hey," I say softly, "I've got you." And when he looks up at me with that small hopeful smile, I have to put my arm around him and guide him in close. He deserves so much more than this tiny sliver of hope. I am damn well going to give it to him. I am going to make it stop.
I don't know what else to do so I just hold him lightly against my chest, wondering if the lack of a heartbeat is as unsettling as I think it is. Feels too good having him this close; he must be really overwhelmed to let me do this. Stalwart, strong, unflagging Wes letting tears fall in my arms. It's worse than knowing how much he must be hurting. I let him stay where he is for a little while, getting entranced by his heartbeat. Something in this building is still alive. Just barely.
"Can't do it alone, Wes. I'm gonna make it stop, promise or no promise, but... I need you." I continue softly from where he left off. I don't want to bring this back up, but he needs to hear it. I don't think I can tell him everything. Too dangerous. Either way it's too dangerous, but I can't let Wes take on so much. I only need a little from him. Well, that's lie, but the rest of it he can't afford to give me even if he wanted to. I'm not meant for Wesley, and he deserves more than a dead Champion who can never seem to stop hurting him. And I don't want to hurt him anymore. Protection is the best and worst I can give him.
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And suddenly, its all a little bit to much. Especially when he says he’s got me. No, he doesn’t, he’s not gotten me for a very long time now. Mostly because he didn’t want me, needed me, dared himself to. And I understood that. Which didn’t mean so say that it hadn’t hurt me. Especially when he started to pant after Cordelia. Making me wonder what she had I hadn’t. Perhaps it had been that tiny bit of jealously which cause me *not* to call her when I took Connor and ran for it.
But hearing him say those words, is just a little to much. And when his arm slide around me and he pulls me closer, all I can do is just lean against him and break down like the pathetic human I am. It all comes crushing down. Cordelia dying, Fred dying, getting my throat cut, getting my memories back….mostly loosing Angel and never really getting back what I’d lost. What we’d lost. Pressing my lips into a thin line, I breath in and out through my nose, refusing to let emotion taking me over. I’ve never been one for that, only at desperate times.
Such as Angel saying he’s still my ….friend.
And I want to believe him so badly. That he’ll make it stop, that he’ll make it go away. But other then actually killing me? I know it’ll never really go away. It doesn’t feel as though it’ll go away. Illyria will always be there, using *her* face to mock me with my failure. Angel will always be there and I know that I remind him of what could’ve been. Him, Cordelia and Connor, one happy family. And all that’s left of it, is the man who took that away now trying not to sob in his arms.
Hate this. So tired of everything.
“No you don’t,” I mumble, letting the exhaustion of the last few hours, days, weeks, settle over me. I feel odly save where I am now, even snuggling up a bit closer. Pulling my feet up on the sofa, I lean against him a bit more, closing my eyes. Better be careful, or I might fall asleep right here. Doubt he’ll appreciate that. “No one ever needs me, Angel. Least of you.”
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