(((Part Two)))
Wesley sat alone in the dark of the lobby, a half-drunk glass of scotch in his hand. He usually tried to avoid alcohol; it had caused so much pain in his family... but this wasn't about his family. Not that family, at any rate.
'It's about Angel,' Wes thought tiredly, 'and Buffy. Like he didn't have enough things going wrong in his life!'
He got up to pour himself more scotch.
Cordelia stepped out of the shower and toweled herself off briskly. She had to get back to the hotel quickly. Wesley might need her help. Angel might need her help. And she'd done enough to screw things up in the last few days.
Things could've been so different. What if she hadn't been sucked into the portal to Pylea? What if she had been standing one step further back? What if she hadn't read from that book? What if she had done something, anything different? If only they hadn't wasted the past few days! Maybe they could have done something...
Angel sat alone in his room. The lights were off. Dark felt good, somehow. In the room, but also in himself.
Why hadn't he been there? The question haunted him. He knew he could have done something. He knew how stubborn Buffy could be, and very possibly, she might've still died, no matter what he had said or done. But even so, she wouldn't have been alone when she died. He could've been there with her, to show her that she sould always be respected, and admired, and loved.
Truly, he knew that in all likelihood, Buffy would never have let him save her, if it meant endangering himself. He still felt guilty. He knew he should have been there for her. That was supposed to be the center of his atonement. To be there. Her mentor. Her backbone.
Her Champion.
Years before he'd blown any chance he'd had of helping her. He'd broken all the rules. At long last, Angel had truly fallen in love. It had been more of a hindrance than a help in the long run. Still... Angel wouldn't have traded their time together for the world.
He couldn't sleep. he wasn't sure when - or if - he'd ever be able to sleep again, with these thoughts running through his head.
"Why are you still here?" he asked rudely, noticing Wesley stumbling across the room. "What are you doing?"
"I'm... I'm... I'm getting bloody smashed, that's what I'm doing," Wesley finally admitted. "Would you care to join me?"
Angel paused, considering his options. At long last, his discipline won over, and he shook his head. "I'd better not. I'm not really sure it's a good idea, letting my guard down. Especially now."
Wesley pondered that for a moment, and agreed. "Yes, I s'pose you're right... rather insane suggestion on my part, really."
Angel didn't reply, just stalked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out a bag of blood. He tore into it, and greedily sucked the cold liquid down his throat. His haste caused him to nearly inhale it, and Angel choked, coughing blood from his airless lungs.
"Angel?" Wesley ventured sympathetically, but he was met only with an animalistic snarl and a venemous stare, before Angel shot up the stairs and back to his room.
The building shook from the force of the door slamming. Wesley was left to clean up the red droplets spilled on the floor.
Angel slid down the hard wood of his bedroom door. He wanted to stand, walk, pace. But his legs felt like jelly, and they crumpled beneath him.
Cold tears sprung up in his eyes. He couldn't stand this feeling. Buffy was gone. And now he was left to second-guess his actions of the past three days, three years... nearly two and a half centuries. Every false breath he'd taken, every pretense, every step, every kill, every kiss, every moment, wondering which split-second thoughts and actions and brought him to this point.
What could he possibly have done differently, had he known this would happen? Would he have left Sunnydale? Would he have even come to Sunnydale to begin with?
Would he have hired Cordy and Wes, and Gunn? Would he have fired them, or rehired them? Would he have gone after Darla? Would he have slept with her, let her go? Would he have taken Lorne's case? Would he have helped a fellow warrior?
Would he have gone in after Cordelia?
His mind froze, and Angel wondered how he could even let himself think that. Of course he would have rescued Cordelia! She was his friend, not to mention his only link to the Powers That Be.
He had to keep fighting. Quitting was not an option. With Buffy gone, his mission was that much more important. Perhaps a new Slayer would be called, but in all reality, they were still short one warrior now. It had taken Buffy five years to become as strong as she... had been.
How would the world change without her? He was certain it couldn't possibly be for the better. But would demons take over the planet, or would there simply be a larger number of victims? Things were bound to become more dangerous. How would Buffy's friends in Sunnydale do without her? Would they stay and fight?
Would they die?
Angel worried that Buffy's death was a beginning as well as an end. It was the end of safety, and comfort. Hope. Would it be the beginning of a streak of bad luck and hard times? Bad things brought even more bad things, or so Angel had found in the past.
Doyle.
That name flashed through him adn he felt again the stab of pain in his heart. Another one gone. Another loved, cherished friend lost to their fight. Another casualty of their never-ending war.
And then a new thought occured to Angel, one worse than the worst of the others, and he felt himself freeze.
It wasn't... it couldn't possibly be... him?
Could it?
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6