✟ the shadows kept me hidden from the light that calls my name;
“…Shanshu has roots in so many different languages. The most ancient source is the Proto-Bantu and they consider life and death the same thing, part of a cycle, only a thing that's not alive never dies. It's- it's saying - that you get to live until you die. It's saying - it's saying you become human.”
In the stunned silence that followed Wesley’s words, Angel could have sworn that adrenalin was coursing through his veins - a ridiculous thought. The second thing he thinks about is Buffy, which shows how far he’s come, gazing back at Wesley and Cordelia with a faint smile on his face. A year ago, she would have been the first thought on his mind. But now he focuses on his two employees, noting how typical it is for Cordelia to break the ice first.
“ That's the prophecy?”
“Ah, the vampire with a soul, once he fulfills his destiny, will Shanshu. Become human. - It's his reward.”
“Wow. Angel a human.”
News like this requires serious contemplation, but right now Angel’s mind is squarely concentrated on the present. He’s seen a few prophecies come and go in his time, and he above anyone else knows that they’re not always set in stone. There’s things like interpretation to consider, and sometimes these Oracles worded things in a way that was misleading. But even if it was just the placebo effect, this prophecy had given him something priceless.
A future.
Two-hundred and forty some years later, and there is nothing new to him. Even killing gets old after that long, and the prospect of existing day in and day out was something that felt weary to him. But not now. He’d been given something to fight for - the acknowledgment of some sort of bigger picture or final victory. The promise of a day when Los Angeles would no longer need him to protect them.
If that were true, then all of their suffering would be made worth it. Leaving Sunnydale, losing Doyle…the people they had saved and failed to save and nearly lost. The scars on Wesley’s body and Cordelia’s mind…he could never get that back for them, but perhaps he could help.
Angel smiled. “That’d be nice.” as usual, his words betrayed very little of the internal monologue in his mind, but even his normally stoic self couldn’t stop the huge grin that spread across his features, stretching muscles that hadn’t been used in a very long time.
It takes him a few seconds to realize that Cordelia’s spacious kitchen/living room has been replaced with a bright and sunny beach. The carton of blood that had been sitting next to him fell to the ground, its cap opening and splattering crimson all over the sand - but Angel didn’t notice.
He ran for the water, waiting for the inevitable burn of his skin and clothing - but even as he was running, even as his body hit the sea, he felt it.
A heartbeat.
Dragging himself from the water, he collapsed on all fours, gasping for air - oh god, he’d almost forgotten to breathe. Picking himself up, Angel raised a hand to his face to squint at the sun.
It was beautiful, but too bright for someone whose eyes were so attuned to the darkness.
This wasn’t the prophecy. It couldn’t be. The Powers That Be never made things this easy - and he supposed that was why they were the force for good. Redemption and forgiveness does not come easy, and he’s done relatively little so far to earn his reward. His deeds did not yet total to the pain that he'd caused, and LA was just getting started when it came to its share of nastiness to throw at him.
Wolfram and Hart wasn’t done, and neither was he.
So then why was he human, and what was he doing here?
[OOC - the first person to find him on the beach and explain everything is Buffy. Everyone else can find him wandering around the island or the compound - he'd literally take the time to explore every bit of the outside, now that he can walk around in the sunlight.]
In the stunned silence that followed Wesley’s words, Angel could have sworn that adrenalin was coursing through his veins - a ridiculous thought. The second thing he thinks about is Buffy, which shows how far he’s come, gazing back at Wesley and Cordelia with a faint smile on his face. A year ago, she would have been the first thought on his mind. But now he focuses on his two employees, noting how typical it is for Cordelia to break the ice first.
“ That's the prophecy?”
“Ah, the vampire with a soul, once he fulfills his destiny, will Shanshu. Become human. - It's his reward.”
“Wow. Angel a human.”
News like this requires serious contemplation, but right now Angel’s mind is squarely concentrated on the present. He’s seen a few prophecies come and go in his time, and he above anyone else knows that they’re not always set in stone. There’s things like interpretation to consider, and sometimes these Oracles worded things in a way that was misleading. But even if it was just the placebo effect, this prophecy had given him something priceless.
A future.
Two-hundred and forty some years later, and there is nothing new to him. Even killing gets old after that long, and the prospect of existing day in and day out was something that felt weary to him. But not now. He’d been given something to fight for - the acknowledgment of some sort of bigger picture or final victory. The promise of a day when Los Angeles would no longer need him to protect them.
If that were true, then all of their suffering would be made worth it. Leaving Sunnydale, losing Doyle…the people they had saved and failed to save and nearly lost. The scars on Wesley’s body and Cordelia’s mind…he could never get that back for them, but perhaps he could help.
Angel smiled. “That’d be nice.” as usual, his words betrayed very little of the internal monologue in his mind, but even his normally stoic self couldn’t stop the huge grin that spread across his features, stretching muscles that hadn’t been used in a very long time.
It takes him a few seconds to realize that Cordelia’s spacious kitchen/living room has been replaced with a bright and sunny beach. The carton of blood that had been sitting next to him fell to the ground, its cap opening and splattering crimson all over the sand - but Angel didn’t notice.
He ran for the water, waiting for the inevitable burn of his skin and clothing - but even as he was running, even as his body hit the sea, he felt it.
A heartbeat.
Dragging himself from the water, he collapsed on all fours, gasping for air - oh god, he’d almost forgotten to breathe. Picking himself up, Angel raised a hand to his face to squint at the sun.
It was beautiful, but too bright for someone whose eyes were so attuned to the darkness.
This wasn’t the prophecy. It couldn’t be. The Powers That Be never made things this easy - and he supposed that was why they were the force for good. Redemption and forgiveness does not come easy, and he’s done relatively little so far to earn his reward. His deeds did not yet total to the pain that he'd caused, and LA was just getting started when it came to its share of nastiness to throw at him.
Wolfram and Hart wasn’t done, and neither was he.
So then why was he human, and what was he doing here?
[OOC - the first person to find him on the beach and explain everything is Buffy. Everyone else can find him wandering around the island or the compound - he'd literally take the time to explore every bit of the outside, now that he can walk around in the sunlight.]