=L.A.=
It had been six years since Angel left Sunnydale. Six years of being a private investigator of all things strange. Things that people couldn't or wouldn't go to the police with.
Six years of Cordelia and Wesley being his only links to the life he'd left behind. Life on the Hellmouth, with weekly Armageddon's and prophecies and the Slayer.
The Slayer was making history every single night she patrolled. At 21, she was *the* oldest Slayer in the history of mankind. And demon-kind as well. The mere mention of the petite blonde was enough to send most vampires and demons screaming into the night.
Despite the fact that Angel knew Buffy had moved on, multiple times, to mortal men, just like he'd told her to, he couldn't help regretting the decision to leave her. Despite the fact that it was for their own good, and the good of the world, ultimately. Despite the fact that though he still
loved her with every ounce of his being, he wanted her to be happy.
And she had been happy. For weeks, sometimes months at a time. Until her new boyfriend was dragged into the world of darkness. The world of the Slayer. Then, he either ran, or died.
Buffy had to stake two of her boyfriends in the six years she and Angel had been separated. Xander was worried about her. Willow was worried about her. Giles was worried about her. And strangely, Spike was worried about her.
They had conspired with Buffy's father to force her to take an impromptu vacation to L.A. for her twenty-first birthday. She was moving on autopilot, becoming nothing more than a killing machine, as the Council had long wanted her to be.
But it was killing the part of her that was Buffy Summers, and no one who knew her, even Spike, who still declared loudly that she was the bane of his existence, wanted her to disappear inside under the mantle of being the Slayer.
Angel considered himself lucky that he hadn't run into her yet. She'd been in L.A for three weeks. Her 21st birthday had been yesterday. He was almost certain he would be able to bear her presence, as long as he didn't have to see her. As long as he didn't have to feel the gut wrenching agony of knowing that they'd have to part again.
He walked into the club he frequented, with the soul-reading demon that had become an unlikely friend and sometime ally. The club was a haven for demons and vampires and everything else that went bump in the night. Strange that the very place that harbored those he fought night after night was the place that he felt the safest, outside of his own apartment.
Angel walked inside and took his customary table, staring off into space, brooding, as usual.
He barely noticed when the trio of Khathra demons that had been singing 'My Girl' on stage finished their song and someone else took their place.
At first, he didn't even register that the music had changed, or recognize the voice that sang, obviously without the discipline provided by voice lessons, but still clear, beautiful, and heartbreaking.
/ What ravages of spirit
conjured this tempestuous rage
created you a monster
broken by the rules of love
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
and fate has led you through it
you do what you have to do ... /
Angel was half-listening to the words, and thinking how perfectly they fit his life, or lack thereof, with Buffy, when his soul-reading friend sat down next to him, grinning like an idiot.
"She's got real potential, that one. If her looks weren't enough for stardom, she's certainly got the voice and charisma to pull it off. Too bad she's so broken inside. She probably doesn't even realize she's got anything left to give," he said.
Angel murmured something noncommittal, staring at the tabletop and his untouched drink.
/ and I have the sense to recognize that
I don't know how to let you go
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
but I have the sense to recognize
that I don't know how
to let you go
I don't know how
to let you go /
Angel flinched at the words of the song. They described his relationship with Buffy perfectly. For a long time, they'd hung on tooth and nail to something that, however powerful,poignant and true, was just not meant to be. Fate had something else in mind for them, and it didn't include
them being together.
Sometimes Fate was a cruel bitch.
/ a glowing ember
burning hot
burning slow
deep within I'm shaken by the violence
of existing for only you
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
and I have sense to recognize but
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go /
Angel mentally berated himself as he felt the wetness of tears glistening in his eyes as the song ended. After six years of knowing he would probably never see Buffy again, that the only time he would have contact with anyone in Sunnydale ever again would be someone calling to tell him she had been killed fighting the forces of darkness, he was letting a *song* affect him this way? Where was his self-control? His hard-won emotional shield was in tatters and it was all he could do not to start bawling like a two hundred and fifty year old baby.
"For someone with the soul of an angel come to earth, she certainly is self-destructive," the soul-reader said. "Well,maybe she's this millennium's saint or something. Who knows with Slayers anyway?"
Angel's head shot up at those words and he glared at his friend.
"What?" he snarled.
The demon raised an eyebrow. "Touchy,touchy. For someone who broods about the girl so much, you'd think you'd notice she was in the room," he said defensively.
Angel looked at the stage, watching as Buffy walked down the steps and headed for the exit.
"You going after her?" the soul-reader inquired curiously.
As the dim light of the club flashed one last time on her golden hair before she was out the door, Angel hesitated, then shook his head. "I can't. We've caused each other enough pain. Seeing each other, even for a few minutes, just makes it worse."
The demon sighed. "Boy, are you a glutton for punishment," he muttered. "Well,if you're going to sit here and brood, at least drink while you do it. You're making the locals nervous."
Angel glared at him.
"What? Okay,okay, you want to know what I read from her, besides being self-destructive?"
At Angel's slight nod, the demon sighed. "Fine. She's lost a lot in her life. Friends, family, lovers. Her existence is one big Shakespearean tragedy. But, you already know that. What you don't understand is that this self-destructive phase isn't a phase for her. She's becoming more the Slayer and less the person. It's happened to every Slayer before her, most sooner rather than later, and soon afterward, they died. It's a forgone conclusion, my friend. It's part of her destiny, Fate, whatever you want to call it. But, you have a choice here, O Brooding One," the demon said. "She still loves you. It's plain enough in the emotion in her voice, and the choice of song.
But you can't read souls, and I can. So maybe it isn' t as obvious to you. Every word was an emotion, a string of thoughts, memories, desires, all the dreams she's ever had. And most of them were about you. She doesn't have a lot of time left at this rate. I'd guess maybe a week or two at the most. Word travels fast around here, and word's out that the Slayer's broken in a way that can't be fixed. You can either sit back and cling to your moral high ground that being around you might get her killed, and watch her die because she had nothing to live for, or you can find her, and work things out."
Angel gave him an incredulous look.
"I'm not saying for you to go out and to your best to bring Angelus back," the demon clarified. "But she needs you. Even if it's only as a friend. And before you say anything, I know, you've tried the friends thing before, and it didn't work. But that was years ago, and it was too much too soon after what had happened. You've had enough time apart that you've grown as individuals. You're grown ups, you can handle this."
Angel wanted to smack the demon. Because it hurt to think of being near Buffy when they caused each other so much pain. And also because, deep down, he knew the soul-reader was right.
Angel stood and tossed a half-smile his friend's way, gesturing to his untouched drink. "Put that on my tab."
The demon shook his head in a long-suffering manner, and Angel walked out the door. The soul-reader could only hope the souled vampire made the right choice, for both their sakes.
-Fin.
*Feedback is imperative. Don't make me beg. It's messy.
It had been six years since Angel left Sunnydale. Six years of being a private investigator of all things strange. Things that people couldn't or wouldn't go to the police with.
Six years of Cordelia and Wesley being his only links to the life he'd left behind. Life on the Hellmouth, with weekly Armageddon's and prophecies and the Slayer.
The Slayer was making history every single night she patrolled. At 21, she was *the* oldest Slayer in the history of mankind. And demon-kind as well. The mere mention of the petite blonde was enough to send most vampires and demons screaming into the night.
Despite the fact that Angel knew Buffy had moved on, multiple times, to mortal men, just like he'd told her to, he couldn't help regretting the decision to leave her. Despite the fact that it was for their own good, and the good of the world, ultimately. Despite the fact that though he still
loved her with every ounce of his being, he wanted her to be happy.
And she had been happy. For weeks, sometimes months at a time. Until her new boyfriend was dragged into the world of darkness. The world of the Slayer. Then, he either ran, or died.
Buffy had to stake two of her boyfriends in the six years she and Angel had been separated. Xander was worried about her. Willow was worried about her. Giles was worried about her. And strangely, Spike was worried about her.
They had conspired with Buffy's father to force her to take an impromptu vacation to L.A. for her twenty-first birthday. She was moving on autopilot, becoming nothing more than a killing machine, as the Council had long wanted her to be.
But it was killing the part of her that was Buffy Summers, and no one who knew her, even Spike, who still declared loudly that she was the bane of his existence, wanted her to disappear inside under the mantle of being the Slayer.
Angel considered himself lucky that he hadn't run into her yet. She'd been in L.A for three weeks. Her 21st birthday had been yesterday. He was almost certain he would be able to bear her presence, as long as he didn't have to see her. As long as he didn't have to feel the gut wrenching agony of knowing that they'd have to part again.
He walked into the club he frequented, with the soul-reading demon that had become an unlikely friend and sometime ally. The club was a haven for demons and vampires and everything else that went bump in the night. Strange that the very place that harbored those he fought night after night was the place that he felt the safest, outside of his own apartment.
Angel walked inside and took his customary table, staring off into space, brooding, as usual.
He barely noticed when the trio of Khathra demons that had been singing 'My Girl' on stage finished their song and someone else took their place.
At first, he didn't even register that the music had changed, or recognize the voice that sang, obviously without the discipline provided by voice lessons, but still clear, beautiful, and heartbreaking.
/ What ravages of spirit
conjured this tempestuous rage
created you a monster
broken by the rules of love
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
and fate has led you through it
you do what you have to do ... /
Angel was half-listening to the words, and thinking how perfectly they fit his life, or lack thereof, with Buffy, when his soul-reading friend sat down next to him, grinning like an idiot.
"She's got real potential, that one. If her looks weren't enough for stardom, she's certainly got the voice and charisma to pull it off. Too bad she's so broken inside. She probably doesn't even realize she's got anything left to give," he said.
Angel murmured something noncommittal, staring at the tabletop and his untouched drink.
/ and I have the sense to recognize that
I don't know how to let you go
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
but I have the sense to recognize
that I don't know how
to let you go
I don't know how
to let you go /
Angel flinched at the words of the song. They described his relationship with Buffy perfectly. For a long time, they'd hung on tooth and nail to something that, however powerful,poignant and true, was just not meant to be. Fate had something else in mind for them, and it didn't include
them being together.
Sometimes Fate was a cruel bitch.
/ a glowing ember
burning hot
burning slow
deep within I'm shaken by the violence
of existing for only you
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
and I have sense to recognize but
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go /
Angel mentally berated himself as he felt the wetness of tears glistening in his eyes as the song ended. After six years of knowing he would probably never see Buffy again, that the only time he would have contact with anyone in Sunnydale ever again would be someone calling to tell him she had been killed fighting the forces of darkness, he was letting a *song* affect him this way? Where was his self-control? His hard-won emotional shield was in tatters and it was all he could do not to start bawling like a two hundred and fifty year old baby.
"For someone with the soul of an angel come to earth, she certainly is self-destructive," the soul-reader said. "Well,maybe she's this millennium's saint or something. Who knows with Slayers anyway?"
Angel's head shot up at those words and he glared at his friend.
"What?" he snarled.
The demon raised an eyebrow. "Touchy,touchy. For someone who broods about the girl so much, you'd think you'd notice she was in the room," he said defensively.
Angel looked at the stage, watching as Buffy walked down the steps and headed for the exit.
"You going after her?" the soul-reader inquired curiously.
As the dim light of the club flashed one last time on her golden hair before she was out the door, Angel hesitated, then shook his head. "I can't. We've caused each other enough pain. Seeing each other, even for a few minutes, just makes it worse."
The demon sighed. "Boy, are you a glutton for punishment," he muttered. "Well,if you're going to sit here and brood, at least drink while you do it. You're making the locals nervous."
Angel glared at him.
"What? Okay,okay, you want to know what I read from her, besides being self-destructive?"
At Angel's slight nod, the demon sighed. "Fine. She's lost a lot in her life. Friends, family, lovers. Her existence is one big Shakespearean tragedy. But, you already know that. What you don't understand is that this self-destructive phase isn't a phase for her. She's becoming more the Slayer and less the person. It's happened to every Slayer before her, most sooner rather than later, and soon afterward, they died. It's a forgone conclusion, my friend. It's part of her destiny, Fate, whatever you want to call it. But, you have a choice here, O Brooding One," the demon said. "She still loves you. It's plain enough in the emotion in her voice, and the choice of song.
But you can't read souls, and I can. So maybe it isn' t as obvious to you. Every word was an emotion, a string of thoughts, memories, desires, all the dreams she's ever had. And most of them were about you. She doesn't have a lot of time left at this rate. I'd guess maybe a week or two at the most. Word travels fast around here, and word's out that the Slayer's broken in a way that can't be fixed. You can either sit back and cling to your moral high ground that being around you might get her killed, and watch her die because she had nothing to live for, or you can find her, and work things out."
Angel gave him an incredulous look.
"I'm not saying for you to go out and to your best to bring Angelus back," the demon clarified. "But she needs you. Even if it's only as a friend. And before you say anything, I know, you've tried the friends thing before, and it didn't work. But that was years ago, and it was too much too soon after what had happened. You've had enough time apart that you've grown as individuals. You're grown ups, you can handle this."
Angel wanted to smack the demon. Because it hurt to think of being near Buffy when they caused each other so much pain. And also because, deep down, he knew the soul-reader was right.
Angel stood and tossed a half-smile his friend's way, gesturing to his untouched drink. "Put that on my tab."
The demon shook his head in a long-suffering manner, and Angel walked out the door. The soul-reader could only hope the souled vampire made the right choice, for both their sakes.
-Fin.
*Feedback is imperative. Don't make me beg. It's messy.