The walk home was long.
Angel couldn't explain what had happened to him. He looked down at his hand again as he stalked down the sewer pipe. He had been fighting that demon... the one that had attacked him and Buffy... he traced it down to the sewer, and he thought he could finish it off. He made it bleed, which at the time he took for a good sign. He was never all that worried about infections, being immortal, so he had no problem using his sliced hand to grab the demon. The next thing he knew, however, the demon was gone and he was kneeling on the ground.
He had felt strange. Like he was being cleansed from the inside out, like all the dirt and grit and junk that had ever penetrated his skin was being rinsed clear of his body. He saw his blood and the demon's on his hand, and he watched as they both disappeared beneath his skin. His hand was healed, but he felt... healthier... than that. Then he hurt.
He had been sore all over, and he found a couple bruises on each arm. For a while he felt like he couldn't walk. He was sure there were more bruises on his chest and back, and he felt winded. Soon he had felt lightheaded, like his whole torso was contracting, his brain was screaming at him to do something. His eyesight went hazy for a second.
Then he took his first breath.
He had felt the air rush inward; he could feel his lungs expanding. It was simple and quick, and it was positively the sweetest, cleanest, deepest breath he had taken in his life. He had reached up to his chest, hand shivering, and felt the one thing he never thought he would feel again. His eyes closed, and then he had known it was real.
Angel stopped suddenly. He didn't know why, he hadn't arrived at home yet. He was still a couple of 'doors' down. He turned his head up, looking at the manhole that lead to a dark alley which, in his memory, had never been the home of direct sunlight. He liked to think there sometimes. He wasn't sure quite why, but he wanted to go up into that alley. He climbed the ladder and soon found himself standing in the shady 'hallway' he knew so well.
He walked down the alley, facing the street. Sunlight was glinting off of everything. The shoes, the glasses, the cars (which seldom drove this road), and even the street. The steel from the buildings and the piping along the side sparkled with the light of Angel's deadly enemy. He stood there, on the edge of the shadow. He pinched himself just once more, and yes, it still hurt more than normal. He reached his hand slowly into the sun, reflexes ready to pull it back before it started blistering. He felt heat, and quickly his hand flew back into the safety of the shade. Looking at it, there weren't any blisters or burn marks or any other temporary things that usually accommodate sunlight. He took a deep breath, which still felt a little strange to him, and stepped into the sun.
He flinched, reflexes telling him to shield his face from the light, to recede back into the shadow. He held his ground, and within seconds he knew he wasn't going to die. He turned his face up to the sun, eyes closed. It was warm, inviting. He took off his long coat and basked in the light for a while, his feet remembering which way to get home. He loved the sun, no matter the quarrels with it years before, and he had missed it on some level.
He would have been in denial. He would be saying, it isn't real, I didn't feel my heart beating, I didn't almost die from lack of oxygen. The demon made me hallucinate. But he couldn't come up with any excuse for being out in the sun, for not dying or bursting into flames. He could see the giant ball of light that used to be his enemy. This he was still battling in his head as he walked through the front door of his office, much to the surprise of his employees.