A Start
Angel looked up, dark eyes widening as he heard three familiar mortal heartbeats approaching his rooms in the Hyperion. He felt tension building in his muscles as he waited for them to knock. He always waited until they knocked, it was easier, more human, than explaining that he could hear and recognize their heartbeats.
They stood right outside the door, their hushed whispers as they argued over who would be their spokesperson carried clearly to Angel.
He wanted to yank the door open and tell them to just get it over with. He already knew that they had decided that they didn't want him anymore, that the night before's fight with Darla voided the trial period they'd given him. He'd promised it was over with Darla and then that happened. He couldn't blame them for being angry about it. He couldn't even blame Darla for attacking him; it wasn't as if they'd parted on good after they'd had sex. As was normal that eliminated everyone except himself when it came to apportioning guilt… Still he'd hoped… Now all he could do was pray that they would finish it quickly, but no they were going to drag things out.
Angel forced himself to stay seated, to wait for them to knock. Then he'd pretend he'd just realized they were there. It was all part of the game of pretending to be human. His first rule of dealing with mortals he wanted to call friends really; always act human, do nothing to remind them of what he was. Last summer he'd started to relax, he'd begun to feel secure that they liked he was enough not to care what he was. Last summer that had even been true, and then Darla came back and he destroyed all that. Now the rules were back, to be followed more strictly than ever. He had to prove himself all over again. Never drink blood in front of them. Never let his demon show in his features. Never remind them that his sense had the sharpness of a born predator. Never remind them that he wasn't like them. They didn't want to know how much their involuntary reactions told him. They were just more comfortable that way.
"What does it matter now?" Angel wondered despairingly as he rose and went to the door.
Wesley, his hand raised to knock, blinked owlishly at the suddenly open door. "Ah… Angel, we believe… It has been pointed out to us… by both circumstances and certain parties that… Angel, we need to talk."
Angel retreated silently into his rooms. Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn followed him. They stood grouped together, looking at the floor, the walls, the furniture, anywhere except at him. A human could have seen how much they didn't want to be there, Angel could smell the fear scent that was rapidly rising in the room.
They were scared of him. More than anything else that told him he'd screwed up beyond all hope of repair. Before this it had been so long since he'd been the cause of they're fear. Even that day after Rebecca Lowell's drugs had worn off him had been better than this. They'd left him tied up for a few hours, and then it had never been mentioned again. Angel had already known things wouldn't be so easy this time. This time it was months of problems he was struggling to overcome rather than a few hours lapse, and, above all, this time it was his fault.
"The way things are now," Wesley was saying. "We can't work as a time like this. We don't trust you and quite frankly you don't trust us either."
"I trust you completely," Angel protested.
"If that's true, why did you hide your injuries?" Wesley asked.
"I thought…" Angel trailed off; he didn't think it would improve his case to say he had hidden things that he was certain they wouldn't like.
"You thought we'd be angry," Wesley said. "You knew that both Darla and Lindsey sought you out. You knew what happened was outside of your control. Still you couldn't trust us to make that distinction."
"I'm sorry," Angel said.
"Why should you be?" Wesley asked quietly. "We've certainly not given you any reason to expect support from us."
"What?" Angel asked, wondering if he needed to be sitting down for this conversation. It wasn't at all what he'd expected.
"That's part of what we wanted to talk to you about," Wesley said. "In the months before your fired us we made our fair share of mistakes as well. We need to own up to that. It's practically a rule that when friendships fall apart both parties are bound to share in the blame."
"I shouldn't have let myself become obsessed with Darla," Angel objected. "If I hadn't none of this would have happened."
"We should have helped you maintain some form of objectiveness once you decided to help her," Wesley stated. "Despite how badly things turned out, you weren't wrong in wanting save her. As you know better than any of us Darla has a dark past and Wolfram and Hart brought her here as a weapon against you, but the same was true of Faith. Those facts didn't make her any less in need of help. You were right in your desire to help both of them and we should have supported you."
"We knew you were attempting to help some who could easily prove impossible to salvage. We knew you had a long and involved past with Darla. We knew your situation had several parallels with hers," Wesley sighed. "And still we acted as if it were reasonable to expect that your judgment wouldn't be impaired by those facts. We should have realized that Darla's actions before we discovered her return, would further comprise your emotional stability."
"When we finally took our head out of the sand and acknowledged that the situation was out of control, we immediately confronted and accused you." Wesley said. "It wasn't exactly the most tactful way of saying you needed help, and it came much too late,"
"The four of us should have been talking months ago, it would have been easier and perhaps things wouldn't have gotten so bad if we had. But the simple fact of the matter is we didn't. The past is fixed, as are the mistakes we all made. Rather than repairing a small rift between us, we have to bridge a chasm, but we're willing to make the attempt. We want you back Angel," Wesley finished.
Angel stared at Wesley for almost a minute, then turned to include Cordelia and Gunn is his thunderstruck appraisal. They were with Wesley, but they couldn't mean what he thought they'd said. "I don't understand," he stammered. "I thought you came to tell me to stay out of your lives."
"It's easier to take you back than to agree on a new name for the agency," Gunn said sardonically.
"But… when you first came in…you were afraid of me. Why would you want me around?" Angel asked.
"Not of you," Cordelia said rolling her eyes. "Of admitting we screwed up. It isn't fun, having to say you're sorry."
Angel felt a tentative smile tugging at his lips. "I think I have an idea of what you mean," he said.