With You (PG)
This is a story in the Linkin Park Collection. This is based off of the song With You by Linkin Park. Lyrics will be thrown in among the story. Sorry for anyone who thinks that's annoying.
This is kind of a Buffy/Angel story. It takes place after the end of Season 5 in Buffy and Season 3 in Angel.
Hope you enjoy!
**~**
Willow left two days ago. Angel hadn't left his room since. He knew he should. The others worried. It wasn't hard to see. His pallor whitened more with lack of blood. There was undoubtedly work to be done. Nothing got him out of bed. He just couldn't bring himself to think past the news. She was gone. Really gone. She didn't feel gone. No more than usual. But there was a certain comfort in knowing that she was in the next town. There was comfort in knowing he could drive to her and hold her under a tree while she expressed fear of the next day. Even then he always took for granted that there would be a next day for her. Angel sighed and got out of bed. He slipped himself into some clothes and headed to the kitchen. He looked around but didn't see anyone else. He walked into the kitchen and immediately found the note left for him. Cordelia and Fred had gone shopping, no doubt to spice up Cordelia's wardrobe as much as Fred's. Gunn and Wesley were working on something new. Wonderful. Maybe something new would help fill the loneliness. Warming himself up some blood, Angel was deep in thought. All this time away from her, he had felt the loneliness of it. But now he felt it acutely. Before it was like a nagging in the back of his skull that would fester and come to a head and send him straight for a road trip to Sunnydale where he would see her. Sometimes he'd let her know he was there, but most times it was just enough to see her. Now he would never see her again. Now if he went to Sunnydale the Summers' home would be a tomb. The loneliness of that knowledge made him need to close his eyes against the emotion that wanted to spill down his cheeks. Angel grabbed his blood and went to his new "desk". He frowned immediately as his eyes lay on an unopened letter. Angel slowly sat down and set his blood aside and picked up the letter. Her letter. Her handwriting. A faint scent of her invaded his nostrils. Angel swallowed the lump in his throat. His hands shook as he turned the letter over and let his eyes memorize every curve her pen had made. He smiled a little as his eyes followed the reckless way in which she had crossed her t's and dotted her i's. She was in a hurry. His smile faded. In a hurry to die. One finger slipped under the flap and he gently tore the envelope open. He wasn't sure he could do this. Could he read her words? They were all he had left. He would read them. He just wanted to savor every moment before hand. Something inside him told him this letter had the weight of finality. The loneliness and the emptiness that he had been feeling since the words tumbled out of Willow's mouth were about to be made false somehow by this new hurt. The hurt of the final goodbye. Angel sucked in a deep breath of air and let it expel out of his lungs. The act always grounded him. True he didn't need air to live, he felt the tickle of it as it entered his lungs and it helped him to focus on the now. He pulled the letter out of its confines and unfolded it slowly. Very slowly his eyes scanned over each word. At first he was confused. It seemed to be song lyrics. Not to any song he knew, though. He read over them again. Who was Linkin Park? He got up and went to Cordelia's desk rummaging through her CD collection. No Linkin Park. No Hybrid Theory, which was listed next to Linkin Park. He was supposed to listen to track 3, a song called With You. He tried reading the lyrics again, but he didn't really understand them that well. Suddenly Angel heard a funny noise coming from Cordelia's CD player. It kind of sounded like someone was scratching a record. Angel's nose wrinkled. He went for the player and tried to turn it off. He didn't know how to work it. He was just learning how to work the other player when Cordelia had to replace it with this new one. Why? Because it was purple of course. Angel cursed. He staggered back as he accidentally turned the music up and the drums blared at him. He had to get this noise turned off! He stopped for a moment to think rationally about how to make this player stop pounding and screeching at him without ripping purple plastic to pieces because somewhere he still cared about Cordelia coming home and bestowing upon him one of her glares and lecturing him for an hour on getting with the Electronic Age. Suddenly, Angel recognized a line. His ears perked as he listened further. This was it. "With You" by Linkin Park. This was the song! He grabbed the lyrics from his desk and sat down, but the song was over. He stiffened every muscle in anticipation and waited. Then he heard the beginnings of the song again. He let himself relax and tried to follow along with the words. After the song played a second time he was so frustrated he couldn't see straight. He tossed the lyrics to the ground with a growl and closed his eyes. Buffy was trying to tell him something but he was more than certain he didn't know what. And he didn't even want to think of the logic that kept asking him why the same song was playing on a player that hadn't been touched because he was alone. The song started up for the third time and he just sat there...his head back, his eyes closed and let the music wash over him. Understanding soon followed. I woke up in a dream today
To the cold of the static And put my cold feet on the floor
Forgot all about yesterday
His mind filled with the thoughts and the feelings reflected in this song. It was all there. She knew him so well. Somehow she knew he woke up and still felt like he should be or could be asleep. Like his who life was like a bad dream. Somehow she knew the static that filled his life. Forgetting yesterday was like forgetting the past, something she knew he sometimes wanted, even though it was his past that spurred him to fulfill his future. Somehow she understood.
Remembering I'm pretending to be where I'm not anymore
A little taste of hypocrisy
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake Slow to react
She knew. So much she knew. How did she have the insight to know this song would capture him? Somehow she knew he pretended. How he would sometimes pretend he didn't care as much as he did, because part of him, a small part still wanted to hold on to where he was. How acute she was to know his life was tainted by all sorts of hypocrisies. How much he felt like he was constantly in the wake of some mistake made by himself or by Angelus.
Even though you're so close to me
You're still so distant And I can't bring you back
He let the first tear fall. She was telling him that even though she is gone.she'll never really leave.
It's true The way I feel
Was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
Painted on my memories
Even if you're not with me
I'm with you
Angel let the sob go when he heard this part of the song. "Even if you're not with me, I'm with you." How could he have been feeling the loneliness earlier? He could feel her so close to him now.
You Now I see Keeping everything inside
You Now I see Even when I close my eyes
The tears continued down his face, small sobs coming from him as he pictured his Buffy as she envisioned this song for him. He tried to remember as he did at her mother's grave, but that wasn't really his Buffy. His Buffy was the dazzling girl who balanced life, calling, and love, always trying to give her all to everyone and everything.
I hit you and you hit me back
We fall to the floor The rest of the day stands still
Fine line between this and that
When things go wrong I pretend the past isn't real
Now I'm trapped in this memory
How often had he walked that fine line? He let himself smile through the remainder of his tears as he thought about how he tried to pretend the past wasn't real but how easily he was trapped in his memories. How easily her memories draw him back, to reflect on his nights with her by his side. To those times when she loved no other, and he had known he was feeling a love he never would again.
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake Slow to react
Even though you're close to me
You're still so distant And I can't bring you back
No
No matter how far we've come
I can't wait to see tomorrow
With you
He let the rest of the song flow out of the player and he waited for it to repeat, but it didn't. He took a moment to collect himself. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and his eyes fell on the ridiculously purple machine. He stood up and walked over to it, searching for the button, lever, or device that would let him get the CD out. Suddenly the top popped off and Angel recognized this as where the CD would go. But it was empty. No CD. Nothing.
Angel looked around the office area for a moment and then his eyes fell onto the paper on the floor with her hand written lyrics on it. He smiled a little.
"Thank you, Buffy. For giving me time to understand." He walked to the paper and picked it up. His eyes skimmed it again as he walked back to his desk, his cold container of now congealed blood sat where he had left it. He picked up the envelope that the paper had come in and he gently refolded the paper and slid it back into the envelope. He put away the letter as he put away his grief.
Because even if he wasn't with her, she was with him.
This is a story in the Linkin Park Collection. This is based off of the song With You by Linkin Park. Lyrics will be thrown in among the story. Sorry for anyone who thinks that's annoying.
This is kind of a Buffy/Angel story. It takes place after the end of Season 5 in Buffy and Season 3 in Angel.
Hope you enjoy!
**~**
Willow left two days ago. Angel hadn't left his room since. He knew he should. The others worried. It wasn't hard to see. His pallor whitened more with lack of blood. There was undoubtedly work to be done. Nothing got him out of bed. He just couldn't bring himself to think past the news. She was gone. Really gone. She didn't feel gone. No more than usual. But there was a certain comfort in knowing that she was in the next town. There was comfort in knowing he could drive to her and hold her under a tree while she expressed fear of the next day. Even then he always took for granted that there would be a next day for her. Angel sighed and got out of bed. He slipped himself into some clothes and headed to the kitchen. He looked around but didn't see anyone else. He walked into the kitchen and immediately found the note left for him. Cordelia and Fred had gone shopping, no doubt to spice up Cordelia's wardrobe as much as Fred's. Gunn and Wesley were working on something new. Wonderful. Maybe something new would help fill the loneliness. Warming himself up some blood, Angel was deep in thought. All this time away from her, he had felt the loneliness of it. But now he felt it acutely. Before it was like a nagging in the back of his skull that would fester and come to a head and send him straight for a road trip to Sunnydale where he would see her. Sometimes he'd let her know he was there, but most times it was just enough to see her. Now he would never see her again. Now if he went to Sunnydale the Summers' home would be a tomb. The loneliness of that knowledge made him need to close his eyes against the emotion that wanted to spill down his cheeks. Angel grabbed his blood and went to his new "desk". He frowned immediately as his eyes lay on an unopened letter. Angel slowly sat down and set his blood aside and picked up the letter. Her letter. Her handwriting. A faint scent of her invaded his nostrils. Angel swallowed the lump in his throat. His hands shook as he turned the letter over and let his eyes memorize every curve her pen had made. He smiled a little as his eyes followed the reckless way in which she had crossed her t's and dotted her i's. She was in a hurry. His smile faded. In a hurry to die. One finger slipped under the flap and he gently tore the envelope open. He wasn't sure he could do this. Could he read her words? They were all he had left. He would read them. He just wanted to savor every moment before hand. Something inside him told him this letter had the weight of finality. The loneliness and the emptiness that he had been feeling since the words tumbled out of Willow's mouth were about to be made false somehow by this new hurt. The hurt of the final goodbye. Angel sucked in a deep breath of air and let it expel out of his lungs. The act always grounded him. True he didn't need air to live, he felt the tickle of it as it entered his lungs and it helped him to focus on the now. He pulled the letter out of its confines and unfolded it slowly. Very slowly his eyes scanned over each word. At first he was confused. It seemed to be song lyrics. Not to any song he knew, though. He read over them again. Who was Linkin Park? He got up and went to Cordelia's desk rummaging through her CD collection. No Linkin Park. No Hybrid Theory, which was listed next to Linkin Park. He was supposed to listen to track 3, a song called With You. He tried reading the lyrics again, but he didn't really understand them that well. Suddenly Angel heard a funny noise coming from Cordelia's CD player. It kind of sounded like someone was scratching a record. Angel's nose wrinkled. He went for the player and tried to turn it off. He didn't know how to work it. He was just learning how to work the other player when Cordelia had to replace it with this new one. Why? Because it was purple of course. Angel cursed. He staggered back as he accidentally turned the music up and the drums blared at him. He had to get this noise turned off! He stopped for a moment to think rationally about how to make this player stop pounding and screeching at him without ripping purple plastic to pieces because somewhere he still cared about Cordelia coming home and bestowing upon him one of her glares and lecturing him for an hour on getting with the Electronic Age. Suddenly, Angel recognized a line. His ears perked as he listened further. This was it. "With You" by Linkin Park. This was the song! He grabbed the lyrics from his desk and sat down, but the song was over. He stiffened every muscle in anticipation and waited. Then he heard the beginnings of the song again. He let himself relax and tried to follow along with the words. After the song played a second time he was so frustrated he couldn't see straight. He tossed the lyrics to the ground with a growl and closed his eyes. Buffy was trying to tell him something but he was more than certain he didn't know what. And he didn't even want to think of the logic that kept asking him why the same song was playing on a player that hadn't been touched because he was alone. The song started up for the third time and he just sat there...his head back, his eyes closed and let the music wash over him. Understanding soon followed. I woke up in a dream today
To the cold of the static And put my cold feet on the floor
Forgot all about yesterday
His mind filled with the thoughts and the feelings reflected in this song. It was all there. She knew him so well. Somehow she knew he woke up and still felt like he should be or could be asleep. Like his who life was like a bad dream. Somehow she knew the static that filled his life. Forgetting yesterday was like forgetting the past, something she knew he sometimes wanted, even though it was his past that spurred him to fulfill his future. Somehow she understood.
Remembering I'm pretending to be where I'm not anymore
A little taste of hypocrisy
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake Slow to react
She knew. So much she knew. How did she have the insight to know this song would capture him? Somehow she knew he pretended. How he would sometimes pretend he didn't care as much as he did, because part of him, a small part still wanted to hold on to where he was. How acute she was to know his life was tainted by all sorts of hypocrisies. How much he felt like he was constantly in the wake of some mistake made by himself or by Angelus.
Even though you're so close to me
You're still so distant And I can't bring you back
He let the first tear fall. She was telling him that even though she is gone.she'll never really leave.
It's true The way I feel
Was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
Painted on my memories
Even if you're not with me
I'm with you
Angel let the sob go when he heard this part of the song. "Even if you're not with me, I'm with you." How could he have been feeling the loneliness earlier? He could feel her so close to him now.
You Now I see Keeping everything inside
You Now I see Even when I close my eyes
The tears continued down his face, small sobs coming from him as he pictured his Buffy as she envisioned this song for him. He tried to remember as he did at her mother's grave, but that wasn't really his Buffy. His Buffy was the dazzling girl who balanced life, calling, and love, always trying to give her all to everyone and everything.
I hit you and you hit me back
We fall to the floor The rest of the day stands still
Fine line between this and that
When things go wrong I pretend the past isn't real
Now I'm trapped in this memory
How often had he walked that fine line? He let himself smile through the remainder of his tears as he thought about how he tried to pretend the past wasn't real but how easily he was trapped in his memories. How easily her memories draw him back, to reflect on his nights with her by his side. To those times when she loved no other, and he had known he was feeling a love he never would again.
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake Slow to react
Even though you're close to me
You're still so distant And I can't bring you back
No
No matter how far we've come
I can't wait to see tomorrow
With you
He let the rest of the song flow out of the player and he waited for it to repeat, but it didn't. He took a moment to collect himself. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and his eyes fell on the ridiculously purple machine. He stood up and walked over to it, searching for the button, lever, or device that would let him get the CD out. Suddenly the top popped off and Angel recognized this as where the CD would go. But it was empty. No CD. Nothing.
Angel looked around the office area for a moment and then his eyes fell onto the paper on the floor with her hand written lyrics on it. He smiled a little.
"Thank you, Buffy. For giving me time to understand." He walked to the paper and picked it up. His eyes skimmed it again as he walked back to his desk, his cold container of now congealed blood sat where he had left it. He picked up the envelope that the paper had come in and he gently refolded the paper and slid it back into the envelope. He put away the letter as he put away his grief.
Because even if he wasn't with her, she was with him.