Author's Notes: Loosing My Religion is a story about Angel reflecting on
his religion. I take no credit for the characters, they belong to Joss
Whedon. The story is rated G and there are no real spoilers. That about
sums it up!
// denotes internal monologue.
*~*~*
// Is it fate? Do I even believe in that anymore? //
Angel looked out at the dark bottom of the ocean from his prison. He saw an occasional fish swim by, but nothing that really caught his attention. Instead, even though is eyes were open, he wasn't paying much attention to what was going out outside.
He didn't know how long it had been since Connor dropped him into the ocean, but he knew it had seemed like weeks. He had managed to break one or two of the cables that bound him, but he wasn't able to get free. Now, without feeding, his strength was depleted and he was forced to wait.
Waiting, as if often does, led to thinking. Thinking led to searching. Soon Angel found his mind touching on things he hadn't had time to think about. Such as religion.
When he was a young lad in Ireland, he was Catholic. He had attended all the classes he was required to and went to church every Sunday. As he started to grow up and drinking and women interested him more, he started to skip the weekly service, usually because of a hangover.
He remembered how angry his father got. He was a rebellious and disobedient child. Much like his own son, he guessed. He didn't bury his father at the bottom of the ocean, but he did kill him.
His thoughts focused back on religion. He wasn't sure he believed like he had before. So many things were different.
When he was first turned, he believed in God. He defied God. Crosses and holy water kept his faith in the Lord, even as he did everything he could to ensure he would never be His child again.
Of course, when the Powers That Be entered the picture, things started to become muddled for him. The Powers That Be. Wouldn't that be God himself? What would God need with the Powers? Maybe there wasn't a God per se. Maybe the Powers is all that is out there.
Even as he thought it, his mind hesitated, thinking again on how the crosses burned his skin, warding him away when he got near them. What power would cause that if not God Himself? When holy water was blessed, it was a Catholic priest which cursed it with God's essence causing the liquid to burn his skin at the touch.
Sometimes that upset him. He understood the Lord's touch burning his abominable undead body when he was murdering innocent people left and right. He understood the punishment he got from the items that carried His blessing. But now, now when he gives up everything to fight the good fight, he didn't understand the curse. This was not the first time that he wondered why one curse didn't negate the other.
He thought about the humans on the surface. How many of them fought as hard as he did to save the world from demons and vampires? Not many. How many of them murdered their fellow man and in general caused chaos and disharmony? How many people didn't follow God's ways? There were so many that Angel knew he couldn't begin to guess a number. Yet all of those people can walk, welcomed, into a church, touch every crucifix they come across and bathe in holy water if they wished.
It didn't seem fair to him.
Angel smiled a little, his eyes focusing on the watery world outside. It was just one of the many things that was turned around in his mind as he waited. Waited for someone to rescue him.
// denotes internal monologue.
*~*~*
// Is it fate? Do I even believe in that anymore? //
Angel looked out at the dark bottom of the ocean from his prison. He saw an occasional fish swim by, but nothing that really caught his attention. Instead, even though is eyes were open, he wasn't paying much attention to what was going out outside.
He didn't know how long it had been since Connor dropped him into the ocean, but he knew it had seemed like weeks. He had managed to break one or two of the cables that bound him, but he wasn't able to get free. Now, without feeding, his strength was depleted and he was forced to wait.
Waiting, as if often does, led to thinking. Thinking led to searching. Soon Angel found his mind touching on things he hadn't had time to think about. Such as religion.
When he was a young lad in Ireland, he was Catholic. He had attended all the classes he was required to and went to church every Sunday. As he started to grow up and drinking and women interested him more, he started to skip the weekly service, usually because of a hangover.
He remembered how angry his father got. He was a rebellious and disobedient child. Much like his own son, he guessed. He didn't bury his father at the bottom of the ocean, but he did kill him.
His thoughts focused back on religion. He wasn't sure he believed like he had before. So many things were different.
When he was first turned, he believed in God. He defied God. Crosses and holy water kept his faith in the Lord, even as he did everything he could to ensure he would never be His child again.
Of course, when the Powers That Be entered the picture, things started to become muddled for him. The Powers That Be. Wouldn't that be God himself? What would God need with the Powers? Maybe there wasn't a God per se. Maybe the Powers is all that is out there.
Even as he thought it, his mind hesitated, thinking again on how the crosses burned his skin, warding him away when he got near them. What power would cause that if not God Himself? When holy water was blessed, it was a Catholic priest which cursed it with God's essence causing the liquid to burn his skin at the touch.
Sometimes that upset him. He understood the Lord's touch burning his abominable undead body when he was murdering innocent people left and right. He understood the punishment he got from the items that carried His blessing. But now, now when he gives up everything to fight the good fight, he didn't understand the curse. This was not the first time that he wondered why one curse didn't negate the other.
He thought about the humans on the surface. How many of them fought as hard as he did to save the world from demons and vampires? Not many. How many of them murdered their fellow man and in general caused chaos and disharmony? How many people didn't follow God's ways? There were so many that Angel knew he couldn't begin to guess a number. Yet all of those people can walk, welcomed, into a church, touch every crucifix they come across and bathe in holy water if they wished.
It didn't seem fair to him.
Angel smiled a little, his eyes focusing on the watery world outside. It was just one of the many things that was turned around in his mind as he waited. Waited for someone to rescue him.