this is very short, and very random, and...yeah. I was upabsurdly late last night and wrote whatever the hell came to mind. when i woke up with my face glued to my keyboard the next morning, this is what i found. if you don't like it, you don't have to read it more than once. btw, the song i remember listening to while writing this was "the Story of Isaac" by Judy Collins (yes, Collins, being as pathetic as i am, that made me very happy indeed). It has strange lyrics, but it is a beautiful song and if you read this fic at all, LISTEN TO THAT SONG. it makes it seem much better than it is, simply becuase that song is just so pretty. the lyrics have nothing to do with the story.

love you all!

He always loved to watch her sleep.

He loved to watch her whatever she was doing. When she was sitting on the couch, legs crossed casually and face set with concentration as she struggled to paint the pearly-blue nail polish onto her fingertips. When she was dancing to a Beach Boys tune that Maureen had caught on the radio, her face alight with joy and her lithe body moving in a whirl of delight and energy. When she lay beside him in bed, panting and sweaty and glowing from their lovemaking. When she was leaning against the wall with the others as they watched Mark's newest video and groaned over how bad they looked on film. No matter what, she drew his gaze like metal to a magnet. She was always slightly magical to him. Just…above the rest of them. More than beautiful. Or beautiful, but in a different way.

But watching her sleep was one of his favorite things. The simplicity and purity of his love seemed to settle over her as she slept and emotions were chased away. She was not afraid or happy or sad. She was only Angel, and somehow it always made him feel like crying when he saw her asleep.

She was sleeping now. Lying on her back with her head tilted to the right, one arm pointing upwards at a right angle and the other resting peacefully on her stomach. Her legs were almost straight, bent only very little at the knees. Her breathing was wonderfully slow and steady, and her eyes were still beneath her lids. There were no dreams making her stir, no nightmares to make her sweat and cry out. She was only there now. Only Angel.

He knelt beside the side of their bed, surprised to find his hand trembling as he reached out to stroke her cheek with the utmost gentleness. Touching her sleeping form was just as special as watching her; it seemed like, for one moment, he could join her in that deep slumber and forget the world. Just lie beside her and run his fingers across that cheek, so smooth and warm and soft…he felt his breath catch in his throat as she gave a small sigh. A tiny smile spread across her lips, and the fingers on her left hand curled and uncurled. He let out a long breath when she had settled and become still again.

He ran the palm of his hand over her temples, her forehead, the tips of her ears. It might seem strange to some, this fascination that he had with her as she slept. But those some did not love her like he did, and they didn't know what it was to love someone like Angel.

Collins felt a deep internal peace settle inside him as he touched her face with the most care he could. Her beauty…her serenity…the slow, steadiness of her resting soul was like a drug to him, one that seeped in through his skin like steam. She was just…Angel. And that was all he needed.

And then she stirred again, and her warm brown eyes slowly opened, and with glassy awareness she gazed sleepily at him. As she registered who he was, the small smile on her face grew until it was almost a grin.

"Morning, honey."