Title: Sparks
Category: Buffy/Angel, Angel POV
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Angel realises what he always knew.
Timeline/Spoilers: Spoilers for season 3 of Angel in a vague way. Set sometime in the future, Angel's human, a few years on from the current seasons.
Disclaimer: Nope the characters aren't mine. Belong to Joss and co. Witness the non bitchy disclaimer here. I'm proud, this has to be a first for me :)
Feedback: Of course I want feedback. Would love it, treasure it, adore it. It would make my day so drop me a quick line to let me know if you liked or post a review if you're reading this at ff.net. pipergal33@yahoo.co.uk
Distribution: Fanfiction.net, Wild Horses, SU, B/A lists, anywhere else sure take it just ask first.
Sparks
Emotions lie within you, buried and dormant. You think they're gone, that the spark has faded. And then the memories resurface and you realise it wasn't a spark, it was the fire and it never faded. It's still burning the exact same way it did when you were with her. You knew it all along but you never admitted it to yourself.
And now it's too late. I used to have forever, I was never worried about it being too late. There were hundreds of years of time ahead of me. Plenty time to figure things out. Now it's different, I'm human and it's brutally obvious that I don't have forever. I'm told that fifty, sixty years it's a long time to live but it used to be a mere heartbeat to me. I'm also told that dwelling on the past is bad for you. But the past is all I have to dwell on. The past is the best part of my life. My lives. As Liam, Angelus, Angel, then Angelus again, and then Angel once more and finally as human. Strange that the best part of my life was as a vampire.
This new human life, there are sensations that I never experienced before and things I could never do before but nothing now is as vivid or real as the memories I have. Those three years of my life spent with her and the day we shared, everything pales in comparison. I've finally realised that moving on isn't going to happen. Not that I didn't try. Darla, Cordelia, they mattered and I think I loved them in a sense but it wasn't the same. With Darla there was never the tenderness and with Cordy I missed the way things used to be with us, the friendship we had shared. It didn't work out. It's not supposed to be the same is it? Relationships are supposed to be different. If I had ever wanted something, *someone* different then that would be okay, the thing is I don't. I only want her. There were other women here and there but like I said, it all pales. It's not fair to be with someone when you'd rather be with someone else so maybe that's why I'm alone right now. I don't mind it, I've been alone for years on end before but sometimes I miss the warmth. The light. Last time I was alone there'd never been a light to miss.
I was the one who told her to move on, that we had to move on. I said it and I thought I meant it. I thought we could. Of course I didn't mean the words I spoke, I thought she would understand that goodbye didn't mean goodbye. Which was stupid because goodbye was what I said, what else was she supposed to think it meant? I didn't mean it the last time I saw her either.
It was in LA and I was walking in the sunlight, I never get tired of that and I saw her. I remembered the last time I saw her in the sun and I stopped. She saw me the same instant I saw her and our eyes met. Her hair was longer than the last time I saw it, long and golden, waving a little in the slight breeze that had tickled Los Angeles that day. She was wearing a cream coloured dress that clung to her curves and carrying a few shopping bags. We just looked at each other, sometimes that was all we needed to do. Then a child tugged on her hand from behind. A little girl with tousled and tangled brown hair and tanned skin. Something tugged at my insides then. Buffy's eyes locked onto mine for a second and there was a kind of pain in them. Some pedestrians rushed past them like smoke plumes blowing across the sky and the next time I looked they were gone. I caught a flash of gold in the crowds as Buffy hurried the child along. That was all but the word goodbye was painfully etched on my memory. Her child, her new life and she looked healthy, happy. It should have been goodbye. We had never needed words to say that, the words always cut too deep anyway.
I should have forgotten about her after that, really moved on. She had. But the spark was still there, the fire. Not a fire but *the* fire. It doesn't go out, not ever. That's why I'm parked outside a small terraced house near Pasadena with a blue door. I tell myself it's just to see her again, check she's doing alright but I know I'm not going to say goodbye again.
Category: Buffy/Angel, Angel POV
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Angel realises what he always knew.
Timeline/Spoilers: Spoilers for season 3 of Angel in a vague way. Set sometime in the future, Angel's human, a few years on from the current seasons.
Disclaimer: Nope the characters aren't mine. Belong to Joss and co. Witness the non bitchy disclaimer here. I'm proud, this has to be a first for me :)
Feedback: Of course I want feedback. Would love it, treasure it, adore it. It would make my day so drop me a quick line to let me know if you liked or post a review if you're reading this at ff.net. pipergal33@yahoo.co.uk
Distribution: Fanfiction.net, Wild Horses, SU, B/A lists, anywhere else sure take it just ask first.
Sparks
Emotions lie within you, buried and dormant. You think they're gone, that the spark has faded. And then the memories resurface and you realise it wasn't a spark, it was the fire and it never faded. It's still burning the exact same way it did when you were with her. You knew it all along but you never admitted it to yourself.
And now it's too late. I used to have forever, I was never worried about it being too late. There were hundreds of years of time ahead of me. Plenty time to figure things out. Now it's different, I'm human and it's brutally obvious that I don't have forever. I'm told that fifty, sixty years it's a long time to live but it used to be a mere heartbeat to me. I'm also told that dwelling on the past is bad for you. But the past is all I have to dwell on. The past is the best part of my life. My lives. As Liam, Angelus, Angel, then Angelus again, and then Angel once more and finally as human. Strange that the best part of my life was as a vampire.
This new human life, there are sensations that I never experienced before and things I could never do before but nothing now is as vivid or real as the memories I have. Those three years of my life spent with her and the day we shared, everything pales in comparison. I've finally realised that moving on isn't going to happen. Not that I didn't try. Darla, Cordelia, they mattered and I think I loved them in a sense but it wasn't the same. With Darla there was never the tenderness and with Cordy I missed the way things used to be with us, the friendship we had shared. It didn't work out. It's not supposed to be the same is it? Relationships are supposed to be different. If I had ever wanted something, *someone* different then that would be okay, the thing is I don't. I only want her. There were other women here and there but like I said, it all pales. It's not fair to be with someone when you'd rather be with someone else so maybe that's why I'm alone right now. I don't mind it, I've been alone for years on end before but sometimes I miss the warmth. The light. Last time I was alone there'd never been a light to miss.
I was the one who told her to move on, that we had to move on. I said it and I thought I meant it. I thought we could. Of course I didn't mean the words I spoke, I thought she would understand that goodbye didn't mean goodbye. Which was stupid because goodbye was what I said, what else was she supposed to think it meant? I didn't mean it the last time I saw her either.
It was in LA and I was walking in the sunlight, I never get tired of that and I saw her. I remembered the last time I saw her in the sun and I stopped. She saw me the same instant I saw her and our eyes met. Her hair was longer than the last time I saw it, long and golden, waving a little in the slight breeze that had tickled Los Angeles that day. She was wearing a cream coloured dress that clung to her curves and carrying a few shopping bags. We just looked at each other, sometimes that was all we needed to do. Then a child tugged on her hand from behind. A little girl with tousled and tangled brown hair and tanned skin. Something tugged at my insides then. Buffy's eyes locked onto mine for a second and there was a kind of pain in them. Some pedestrians rushed past them like smoke plumes blowing across the sky and the next time I looked they were gone. I caught a flash of gold in the crowds as Buffy hurried the child along. That was all but the word goodbye was painfully etched on my memory. Her child, her new life and she looked healthy, happy. It should have been goodbye. We had never needed words to say that, the words always cut too deep anyway.
I should have forgotten about her after that, really moved on. She had. But the spark was still there, the fire. Not a fire but *the* fire. It doesn't go out, not ever. That's why I'm parked outside a small terraced house near Pasadena with a blue door. I tell myself it's just to see her again, check she's doing alright but I know I'm not going to say goodbye again.