I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update, my muse left me but it's back! Huge thanks to Only1ToniD, SMGbest, Guest, Matalier, Son of Whitebeard, and for the reviews and to everyone else who alerted and favorited this!
Angel sat with his back against the wall of his cell staring out at the empty hallway with obvious resentment. It had been over three weeks from what he could gather and he was still trapped in this hole, by humans, it was insulting to say the least. The first few days he had screamed and tried everything he could to free himself but as the days passed the will to fight slowly seemed to bleed out of him. Bone deep weariness began to set in and now instead of doing something he mostly just sat in the back corner of the cell thinking about the past. Some days were spent cursing his entire existence and everyone who played a hand in it, other days were spent pleading with anyone who was listening to just put him out of his misery. It was only in the last week that his mind began to slip into his time in Hell, the time he spent there after Seraphiel threw him into Father knows where.
He shook his head to dispel the thoughts that were already forming and tried to focus again. Done with sitting he stood and began to pace back and forth in agitation, what was left of his wings bristling behind him with built up tension. He never did well when captured, it wasn't in his nature to sit and do nothing and it was killing him to be away from his mate.
He punched the glass and glared when nothing happened. It was hard to swallow but Buffy wasn't coming to rescue him, not by choice he was sure, but because of the simple fact that she had no idea where he was. Hell, he didn't even know exactly where he was.
Dropping back down to the floor in a cross-legged position he stretched his spine and laid his palms gently on his knees to prepare to meditate. Focus, he needed to focus.
Who? Some half-ass human military wannabes he thought to himself.
What? They did tests on demons and from the screams he sometimes heard they also tortured them.
Where? His eyes slid open as he snorted in slight frustration. This was the million-dollar question and he really didn't have a good answer. Trying to focus again he closed his eyes and tried to pull up all the information he had. They were most likely underground because he hadn't picked up any outside noise at all and there seemed to be no natural light. He also had no idea how long he was out so he wasn't sure how far away from the college he was.
When? "Three weeks," he growled.
Why? The group of commandos had taken him thinking he's a demon and he knew to never correct them. He could only assume he was in line to be tested and tortured so they would get to him eventually.
His eyes snapped open as he jumped up and began to pace, automatically falling into his Commander role. "Objective one, get out of this ridiculous cell. Objective two, head for the surface. Casualties: probable. Weapons: none." Out loud it sounded even worse. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned sharply, his mind working quickly to come up with any semblance of a plan.
"Hey!" he shouted as someone approached the cell. "Hey fish boy." When the soldier turned he nodded. "Yeah you, I'm hungry."
"You don't eat," the boy responded cautiously. "It's been weeks and you haven't eaten."
"Hence me being hungry," he gritted out tiredly. "I require sustenance."
The young man adjusted his weapon and pulled up his radio, "This is Finn, Specimen 178 says it's hungry." Turning he looked at Angel again, "What do you eat?"
"Meat. Raw," he answered immediately, hoping it was animalistic enough to be believable.
"Raw meat," the man said into his walkie with a look of disgust before looking back at him. "What are you?"
Angel rolled his eyes and held up his hands, "The Boogie Man."
Instead of food arriving a short time later two more soldiers showed at the door with guns drawn and Professor Walsh behind them. She smirked after looking him up and down and approached the glass door. "You don't eat and your feeble attempt to make us believe it is pathetic. You've deteriorated from when you were brought here." She lifted her infamous recorder to her mouth and pressed the red record button. "Specimen 178 update, it appears more weakened, skin pale. Wings have not regenerated. It seems to be shaking almost constantly now and seems to be more compliant than before. Hair has not grown, nor fingernails despite length of time spent here. Will do further tests today to try to determine place of origin and species."
Angel's head snapped to her face from where he had been staring absently at the wall, "Tests? What tests?"
Giles sighed heavily and removed his glasses to polish them, "We have to assume it was some sort of creature because from what we know no human possesses the strength necessary to take down Angel."
"I don't really see a baddy taking down Angel either," Willow added. "He can smite people with his mind. What if it was the angel from the cemetery?"
Buffy paled and swallowed thickly before pushing the thought away, "No. I'm still getting feelings form him and I wasn't when Siripeel took him before. He's desperate, and lonely. Angry. I was getting little hints of fear but in the last few days it's gotten worse. He needs help."
"So he's alone, desperate to get out, scared of where he is or who has him, and he's pissed. So he's stuck in the play area at McDonalds?" Xander offered with a slight shrug. At Willow's expression he held up his hands, "I'm just throwing out ideas. I might not be best friends with the guy but I don't wish him harm."
Willow tapped her chin thoughtfully before sharing her thoughts, "Angel's was pretty distracted before he disappeared, sort of lost. What if a human did get to him by using that to their advantage?"
"Where are you Angel," Buffy moaned, dropping her face into her hands before immense pain and emptiness overtook her. She gasped and choked on the feelings flooding into her before grabbing onto her best friend's arm when she rushed to her side. "Oh God Wills, we have to find him. Fast."
The door to his cell slid open and the soldiers dropped him in unceremoniously before turning and leaving him. His body was screaming in pain but he couldn't seem to care, he just stared at the ceiling and florescent lights wondering how this could have happened. How had they gotten the drop on him? How could they control him so easily?
Because you're weak.
"You're not really here," he whispered tiredly to the room. "Please just leave me alone."
What if I am really here? What if I've been watching this entire time as you've suffered at the hands of these pathetic humans. You're weak Liam, and you will die because of it and I will rejoice. Where's Father now, where are those that you claim love you?
Angel sat up and shook his head mumbling, "No, no, no," over and over again before his mangled wings caught his eye. "Can't talk to me if I don't have wings," he whispered with a maniacal glint in his onyx eyes. His hands reached behind him and began to pull out the few feathers left, ripping them painfully from their rightful spots. With each pluck he screamed through his teeth in pain and when tar began to seep from the appendages and drip to the floor he ran his fingers through the sticky substance and stared, detached, as it stuck to his skin.
He wasn't going to make it through this. The thought should have scared him but it didn't stir up any emotions at all. There was no more pain or fear, no more anger or regret, just pure apathy.
Angel crawled over to the wall and grabbed a handful of his blood before smearing it across the wall carefully. His hands trembled as he finished what he was doing and scooted back to see his work, to see the message he hoped his slayer would get.
I'm sorry.
