Angel: I'm Sorry
Sometimes, inside, the demon rises to demand and devour. A dark force of
insatiable desire surfaces like a leviathon from the depths. Most times, will
alone is enough to control it. Good and evil fight the battle in an unknown
moment of privacy and good lives another day--barely. Then there are times
when the doubt and hurt weaken the will. All those years of unspoken pain
and solitary days can burn a man's mind and leave him vulnerable. One
night of lonely memories, rushing through the mind, goading and torturing
what is left of the soul, is sufficient to weaken the defenses. Evil has the
advantage on this battlefield. Once free, it will kill mercilessly and the only
way to fight, the only way for good to win, is to become like the evil. Then,
the war is lost. A single moment of weakness and the good is gone forever.
It was another day, in an ordinary week, part of an endless month. Cordelia
had dragged Angel to the party, assuring him that he would be all right.
Three weeks ago she and Wesley had announced their undying love for each
other. Since then, Cordelia had taken it upon herself to find Angel a
companion—as long as he promised "not to do the horizontal rumba" as she
put it.
The problem was, as always, Angel felt so distant and removed from this
sparkling world of mating rituals that he could talk to nobody. As the
evening wore on, he felt increasingly alone. The smiles and sounds of people
enjoying themselves simply made him aware of his role. He should not be
here. What could he promise a woman? He was attractive and desirable but
there could be no sex. His personality was dark and brooding with the
occasional violent mood swing: if you could call vamping a mood swing.
Then there was the need for her to give up her life in order to put up with the
dangers of his. Add to this, the sudden lack of picnic opportunities and, well,
there was one conclusion.
In all, he was better patrolling—alone.
Then, Cordelia's sister had shown up. She was shorter and fuller figured
than Cordelia with black hair to her shoulders but the same angular face and
deep eyes. "You'd have to be dead not to fall for her," Angel had
commented wryly but Cordelia had ignored him and introduced them
anyway. He was right.
Ragan was three years older than Cordelia and a trained psychiatrist. She
talked softly and listened attentively, occasionally flashing the Chase
winning smile.
Angel was tired of fighting women; first Buffy, then Kate. In the office, it
was Cordelia. To him, this beautiful, intelligent woman, who hung on his
every awkward word, called to his soul. In this vulnerable state, whilst
Angelus watched, Angel allowed himself to dream. He told Ragan
everything. He told her about his curse, about Buffy and Angelus, about his
loneliness and about how he could never lose control. He even allowed
himself a fourth whisky despite not eating for three days.
In a dark alley, a gifted child stared at the sky from his tiny bedroom. His
mother, a tired woman in her late twenties, stroked his hair. With sad eyes,
he looked at her and spoke softly.
"The powers that be only let you mess up once Mom."
She never understood her son and only cared, like all mothers, that he was
not happy. She pulled him close and gently cried into his hair. She hoped she
could hold him tight and chase his demons.
Angel was crying. Perhaps the whisky and an evening of confessions had
weakened him.
He stood in a corner of his flat, aching. Ragan gently stroked his broad
shoulders and felt him quiver a little. She wrapped herself around him,
trying to protect him. Cordy and her new boyfriend were the only people this
tortured man had. He shut out even them from his darker fights. She
wondered how lonely a man could be and still live. He believed he was a
vampire with a demon inside him and her psychiatric training told her what
this meant.
Unable to sleep at normal hours, a feeling of separation from humanity and
an inability to have sex were all classic symptoms of depression. There
were, of course, many reasons for depression. Loss, disillusionment,
loneliness were just a few. Inside, she felt she knew. He was tremendously
alone. Clearly, he had entered a depressive-isolation cycle. He was lonely so
he was depressed. In his depression, he isolated himself. Isolated, he became
lonelier and more depressed. She knew, all he needed was the love of a
good woman. Ragan hoped her fiancé would forgive her as she began to run
her hands around to Angel's chest.
"No we cannot intervene again," the woman said.
"Indeed, Angel was given a second opportunity by us before," her
companion agreed.
The boy stepped forward and gazed up at the silvery people.
"Please! He's a good man."
"His deeds are yet to prove that," the man said, turning to leave, mist licking
his legs.
"At every opportunity, he fails us and refuses to fight the darkness within
him."
"Then, ok, then let him fight it. OK? Let it out but don't kill him. Let them
fight. Please?" The boy's words hung in the ether for a moment longer than
seemed natural. He had the power.
"Why should we?"
"I, I don't know. My Mom says that my dad was a good man and I shouldn't
hate him for leaving us behind because he had big problems. She says he
simply couldn't cope any more. I forgave him for beating on Mom," the boy
finished quietly.
Angel woke next to Ragan. Cordelia was shouting at him.
"Oh God! What have you done?" Cordelia ran to her sister and pulled her
from the bed. Ragan stumbled drowsily across the room. "We have to get
out of here—now Ragan."
The pain tore through Angel as he fell naked from the bed, writhing and
straining, his muscles ready to tear.
Cordelia pulled at the lift doors but the lift had gone up. She pressed the
button and turned to stare…at Angelus. He stood, naked, smiling, his yellow
eyes boring into the terrified girls, searching for the centre of their fear.
Slowly, he licked his fangs.
Ragan screamed as Angelus laughed.
"It is SO good to be me again. Who'd have thought it? A few days without
eating, a few drinks and Mr Nice Guy, the one everyone seems to like, lets
his true self show again." Angelus spun around, his arms wide. "Oh and, I
don't care what they say, the kill is just as sweet as Miss Chase." He grabbed
at Ragan and tore her from Cordelia.
Breathing on her neck, he smelt the fear pounding through her veins.
"Angel?" Cordelia said. Surprised, Angelus paused. She was speaking to
him, but not looking into his eyes. "If you leave tonight, don't ever speak to
me again."
"Fine," he said and bit into the fleshy neck. It was so sweet, almost heady.
He gorged himself on the bloody life fluid, drinking deeply, satiating his
demonic desires without care or thought.
"Not fine," Angel said as he stepped from the lift.
"Who?" Cordelia began, then thought better of it and added "definitely, not
fine. Sic him new guy."
Angelus dropped Ragan, momentarily confused, and Angel leapt, their
naked bodies impacting and dropping to the floor, smashing the bed as they
fell. Angel and Angelus raged at each other. Angel spat his fury, born of his
lonely life, at the demon wrestling him. Angelus fought for his freedom, for
his right to live. Vampire on vampire, their enraged faces inches apart as
they rolled and tore at each other.
"No more penance for you," Angel snarled.
"You wanted her too, just in a different way," Angelus said. He pushed
Angel's face into the blood on the floor and laughed. Angel, his face
streaked with the blood, shook hard and bit into Angelus's neck, tearing
dead flesh and goring him deeply.
"Ah, ah ah! The dark devours the light." Angelus bit back, deeper, harder.
Angel growled, his strength weakening. Angel pushed hard at Angelus but
the enraged demon pinned him to the floor.
"Which one of you is Angel?" Cordelia asked. She stood above the
vampires, a broken bed leg in one hand, raised to staking position. Angelus
reached up.
"Give me the stake Cordelia, I'll kill Angelus!" Angelus said.
Angel stared up at her. Her mascara ran down her beautiful face. How could
he have hurt her and her sister like this? She was shaking with rage and fear.
"Stake us both Cordelia. Don't take chances—do it!"
She did. She focused her anger into a single blow, thrusting the bed leg
through both vampires.
Angel stood waist deep in swirling mist. It caressed him to full awareness
and he looked around. The smell of jasmine drifted from an archway as a
woman and a man entered the chamber. They circled Angel who tried to
cover his naked chest.
"Once again, laid bare for all to see hmmm?" said the man. "There will not
be another chance for you and your darkness Angel, or is it Angelus? Decide
who you are and face the consequences. A neutral man benefits nobody.
Answer me now, correctly and I will send you back."
For an instant, Angel saw everything he had done. He saw mutilation and
gore. He saw the innards of small children and the workings of Drusilla's
mind. He saw Jenny. He also saw Darla and the grateful tears of Buffy. He
saw vagrants and women he had saved. For a sweet moment, he could see
his own soul, tarnished and flawed but still swirling with pearlescent colours
of vibrant hope. He could judge himself. He knew who he was. Clarity.
"I'm Liam, flawed and human. Send me back so I finish what I started."
Wesley and Cordelia were cleaning out the office when Angel arrived back.
For a moment no one spoke.
"Ragan?" Angel asked.
Cordelia walked up to him and slapped him. She turned, turned again and
slapped him harder. Then, she left, her face harder than stone.
"Err, Ragan is going to be just fine…" Wesley started.
"Angel." Angel finished for him. "It won't happen again."
Wesley faced up to Angel and pulled a stake from inside his jacket. He
pulled off his glasses with his free hand. "If you should hurt Cordelia, or her
sister, like this again Angel, it will be the last time you hurt anyone." Wesley
left.
Angel stared at his lonely world in disarray around him. "I'm sorry," he said
sotto voce.
Sometimes, inside, the demon rises to demand and devour. A dark force of
insatiable desire surfaces like a leviathon from the depths. Most times, will
alone is enough to control it. Good and evil fight the battle in an unknown
moment of privacy and good lives another day--barely. Then there are times
when the doubt and hurt weaken the will. All those years of unspoken pain
and solitary days can burn a man's mind and leave him vulnerable. One
night of lonely memories, rushing through the mind, goading and torturing
what is left of the soul, is sufficient to weaken the defenses. Evil has the
advantage on this battlefield. Once free, it will kill mercilessly and the only
way to fight, the only way for good to win, is to become like the evil. Then,
the war is lost. A single moment of weakness and the good is gone forever.
It was another day, in an ordinary week, part of an endless month. Cordelia
had dragged Angel to the party, assuring him that he would be all right.
Three weeks ago she and Wesley had announced their undying love for each
other. Since then, Cordelia had taken it upon herself to find Angel a
companion—as long as he promised "not to do the horizontal rumba" as she
put it.
The problem was, as always, Angel felt so distant and removed from this
sparkling world of mating rituals that he could talk to nobody. As the
evening wore on, he felt increasingly alone. The smiles and sounds of people
enjoying themselves simply made him aware of his role. He should not be
here. What could he promise a woman? He was attractive and desirable but
there could be no sex. His personality was dark and brooding with the
occasional violent mood swing: if you could call vamping a mood swing.
Then there was the need for her to give up her life in order to put up with the
dangers of his. Add to this, the sudden lack of picnic opportunities and, well,
there was one conclusion.
In all, he was better patrolling—alone.
Then, Cordelia's sister had shown up. She was shorter and fuller figured
than Cordelia with black hair to her shoulders but the same angular face and
deep eyes. "You'd have to be dead not to fall for her," Angel had
commented wryly but Cordelia had ignored him and introduced them
anyway. He was right.
Ragan was three years older than Cordelia and a trained psychiatrist. She
talked softly and listened attentively, occasionally flashing the Chase
winning smile.
Angel was tired of fighting women; first Buffy, then Kate. In the office, it
was Cordelia. To him, this beautiful, intelligent woman, who hung on his
every awkward word, called to his soul. In this vulnerable state, whilst
Angelus watched, Angel allowed himself to dream. He told Ragan
everything. He told her about his curse, about Buffy and Angelus, about his
loneliness and about how he could never lose control. He even allowed
himself a fourth whisky despite not eating for three days.
In a dark alley, a gifted child stared at the sky from his tiny bedroom. His
mother, a tired woman in her late twenties, stroked his hair. With sad eyes,
he looked at her and spoke softly.
"The powers that be only let you mess up once Mom."
She never understood her son and only cared, like all mothers, that he was
not happy. She pulled him close and gently cried into his hair. She hoped she
could hold him tight and chase his demons.
Angel was crying. Perhaps the whisky and an evening of confessions had
weakened him.
He stood in a corner of his flat, aching. Ragan gently stroked his broad
shoulders and felt him quiver a little. She wrapped herself around him,
trying to protect him. Cordy and her new boyfriend were the only people this
tortured man had. He shut out even them from his darker fights. She
wondered how lonely a man could be and still live. He believed he was a
vampire with a demon inside him and her psychiatric training told her what
this meant.
Unable to sleep at normal hours, a feeling of separation from humanity and
an inability to have sex were all classic symptoms of depression. There
were, of course, many reasons for depression. Loss, disillusionment,
loneliness were just a few. Inside, she felt she knew. He was tremendously
alone. Clearly, he had entered a depressive-isolation cycle. He was lonely so
he was depressed. In his depression, he isolated himself. Isolated, he became
lonelier and more depressed. She knew, all he needed was the love of a
good woman. Ragan hoped her fiancé would forgive her as she began to run
her hands around to Angel's chest.
"No we cannot intervene again," the woman said.
"Indeed, Angel was given a second opportunity by us before," her
companion agreed.
The boy stepped forward and gazed up at the silvery people.
"Please! He's a good man."
"His deeds are yet to prove that," the man said, turning to leave, mist licking
his legs.
"At every opportunity, he fails us and refuses to fight the darkness within
him."
"Then, ok, then let him fight it. OK? Let it out but don't kill him. Let them
fight. Please?" The boy's words hung in the ether for a moment longer than
seemed natural. He had the power.
"Why should we?"
"I, I don't know. My Mom says that my dad was a good man and I shouldn't
hate him for leaving us behind because he had big problems. She says he
simply couldn't cope any more. I forgave him for beating on Mom," the boy
finished quietly.
Angel woke next to Ragan. Cordelia was shouting at him.
"Oh God! What have you done?" Cordelia ran to her sister and pulled her
from the bed. Ragan stumbled drowsily across the room. "We have to get
out of here—now Ragan."
The pain tore through Angel as he fell naked from the bed, writhing and
straining, his muscles ready to tear.
Cordelia pulled at the lift doors but the lift had gone up. She pressed the
button and turned to stare…at Angelus. He stood, naked, smiling, his yellow
eyes boring into the terrified girls, searching for the centre of their fear.
Slowly, he licked his fangs.
Ragan screamed as Angelus laughed.
"It is SO good to be me again. Who'd have thought it? A few days without
eating, a few drinks and Mr Nice Guy, the one everyone seems to like, lets
his true self show again." Angelus spun around, his arms wide. "Oh and, I
don't care what they say, the kill is just as sweet as Miss Chase." He grabbed
at Ragan and tore her from Cordelia.
Breathing on her neck, he smelt the fear pounding through her veins.
"Angel?" Cordelia said. Surprised, Angelus paused. She was speaking to
him, but not looking into his eyes. "If you leave tonight, don't ever speak to
me again."
"Fine," he said and bit into the fleshy neck. It was so sweet, almost heady.
He gorged himself on the bloody life fluid, drinking deeply, satiating his
demonic desires without care or thought.
"Not fine," Angel said as he stepped from the lift.
"Who?" Cordelia began, then thought better of it and added "definitely, not
fine. Sic him new guy."
Angelus dropped Ragan, momentarily confused, and Angel leapt, their
naked bodies impacting and dropping to the floor, smashing the bed as they
fell. Angel and Angelus raged at each other. Angel spat his fury, born of his
lonely life, at the demon wrestling him. Angelus fought for his freedom, for
his right to live. Vampire on vampire, their enraged faces inches apart as
they rolled and tore at each other.
"No more penance for you," Angel snarled.
"You wanted her too, just in a different way," Angelus said. He pushed
Angel's face into the blood on the floor and laughed. Angel, his face
streaked with the blood, shook hard and bit into Angelus's neck, tearing
dead flesh and goring him deeply.
"Ah, ah ah! The dark devours the light." Angelus bit back, deeper, harder.
Angel growled, his strength weakening. Angel pushed hard at Angelus but
the enraged demon pinned him to the floor.
"Which one of you is Angel?" Cordelia asked. She stood above the
vampires, a broken bed leg in one hand, raised to staking position. Angelus
reached up.
"Give me the stake Cordelia, I'll kill Angelus!" Angelus said.
Angel stared up at her. Her mascara ran down her beautiful face. How could
he have hurt her and her sister like this? She was shaking with rage and fear.
"Stake us both Cordelia. Don't take chances—do it!"
She did. She focused her anger into a single blow, thrusting the bed leg
through both vampires.
Angel stood waist deep in swirling mist. It caressed him to full awareness
and he looked around. The smell of jasmine drifted from an archway as a
woman and a man entered the chamber. They circled Angel who tried to
cover his naked chest.
"Once again, laid bare for all to see hmmm?" said the man. "There will not
be another chance for you and your darkness Angel, or is it Angelus? Decide
who you are and face the consequences. A neutral man benefits nobody.
Answer me now, correctly and I will send you back."
For an instant, Angel saw everything he had done. He saw mutilation and
gore. He saw the innards of small children and the workings of Drusilla's
mind. He saw Jenny. He also saw Darla and the grateful tears of Buffy. He
saw vagrants and women he had saved. For a sweet moment, he could see
his own soul, tarnished and flawed but still swirling with pearlescent colours
of vibrant hope. He could judge himself. He knew who he was. Clarity.
"I'm Liam, flawed and human. Send me back so I finish what I started."
Wesley and Cordelia were cleaning out the office when Angel arrived back.
For a moment no one spoke.
"Ragan?" Angel asked.
Cordelia walked up to him and slapped him. She turned, turned again and
slapped him harder. Then, she left, her face harder than stone.
"Err, Ragan is going to be just fine…" Wesley started.
"Angel." Angel finished for him. "It won't happen again."
Wesley faced up to Angel and pulled a stake from inside his jacket. He
pulled off his glasses with his free hand. "If you should hurt Cordelia, or her
sister, like this again Angel, it will be the last time you hurt anyone." Wesley
left.
Angel stared at his lonely world in disarray around him. "I'm sorry," he said
sotto voce.