Not enough
By Cyberwulf
Rated 12s (PG-13) for implied torture . Tell me if the rating's too low .
Disclaimer : Characters belong to Joss Whedon .
Spoilers : Passion , Becoming (I&II), Amends , Innocence , The Dark Age .
Summary : Well , I did Giles' thoughts on Angel's return , and an outsider's (Spike's) perception of the long-term damage caused by the events of Passion and Becoming . Now Angel reflects on what he's done . Written because they don't really go into it on the show , apart from 'Amends', and also for the sake of balance . I've taken a bit of an artistic liberty as regards Giles' torture , and also what Angelus did to Drusilla before he turned her . This is the first time I've written Angel seriously , let alone got inside his head , so I'd really like to know what people think . Angel's POV .
I never apologised .
I want to . Most of me wants to . I want to go to him , beg his forgiveness , explain that the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him . I want to tell him that I wouldn't have had that happen to him , that if any trace of me , ME , was in the monster wearing my face , I would've stopped it . I want to say that .
But it just seems so hollow and pointless . As if an apology could bring Jenny back , erase the scars , make the nightmares go away and let him sleep at night . Don't look at me like that . I don't hang around watching him through the window . I know Rupert doesn't sleep well because Drusilla didn't . After I left her parents dead in her house for her to find , she sobbed in her sleep . When she found her younger brother's body , naked , slit from neck to groin , she screamed in her sleep . And when I wrote her a letter from the young man she loved , arranging a meeting in a leafy glade , when she found his mutilated body dangling from one of the trees , she never slept again . She lay awake all night , clutching the blanket , mumbling and singing to herself . Angelus' best work .
And he hasn't lost his touch .
There are rooms in this house I don't go into . I step through a doorway and I can smell Rupert – blood , sweat , fear , vomit . Librarian in the carpet . The single howl of agony I tore from him when I broke his fingers echoes through the empty halls . The memories hit me and I can see him , covered in his own blood , tears flooding down his face , and anger , anger so strong it made him tremble . I think his rage was the only thing that kept him going . I see him , and I hear my voice – only it's not my voice – and the words hit me in the stomach , making me want to retch .
" You're only drawing it on yourself , Rupert ." Calm , almost apologetic , and I know I'm smiling . " Just tell me . A few words and it's all over . The pain will stop . What do you say ?"
Something wet hits my face , and I close my eyes instinctively . His blood and saliva are sliding down my cheek . I feel myself change , my demon coming to the fore .
" Not smart ."
My fingers close around a razor blade .
I stumble out of that room and close the door , both hands over my eyes , which are squeezed tightly shut , in a vain attempt to block out the memory . It never works . I know only too well what happened next . The light catches the blade as it bites into his skin . My mouth waters as the blood bubbles out and begins to trickle down his body . He's trembling and there's fear now , displacing the anger . I pull the blade along his skin , just deep enough to draw blood , not enough to severely damage anything . Not yet . I finish , stand back and admire my handiwork . I look up and he's looking down at what I did , face white under the gore , eyes wide . He's so scared . Angelus loves it . I refasten Rupert's flies and pat him on the knee . I smile again , friendly .
" Next time , I'll cut it off ."
He threw up .
**********
I made Spike clean him up .
" Where's the fun if I can't see my handiwork for blood and puke ?" I laughed , before throwing a rag in my childe's face . " And no tasting , mind ."
Spike's the one I can't place in all this . I didn't realise it at the time , but he was acting like a brake on me . All along , subtly keeping Rupert alive . " What if he's lying ?" when we finally got it out of him and I wanted to kill him . I shake my head . It's something I'll never figure out : Spike , SPIKE , who earned his nickname through torturing his victims with railroad spikes , Spike , Slayer of Slayers , who called me an " Uncle Tom", turns around and saves a Watcher from his soulless sire , who's bent on sucking the world into hell . I almost laugh , the whole thing seems so ridiculous . A year ago , I'd never have thought Rupert would end up owing Spike his life .
Of course , a year ago , I'd never have thought I'd save Jenny Calendar's life , only to take it away a few months later .
**********
The first time I saw Rupert , after I came back – that's when it really hit me , what I'd done to him . Hell had seemed like an eternity . I forgot that it was only a few months for him . He looked right into my eyes . Pain , anger , pure hatred set his own on fire . I couldn't hold his gaze . I said I was sorry to bother him . I didn't know what else to say .
He laughed . Bitter , sarcastic laughter . I remember , I was surprised that he was so calm . He never raised his voice , not once . Not even when I looked up and found myself on the wrong end of a crossbow .
There are days I wish he'd shot me that night . But he didn't .
I'd like to say things are gradually getting back to normal , but they're not . Before all this happened , we were friends . He talked to me . Not just about the next apocalypse . About ordinary things , like his private life and his family . He invited me into his house . He trusted me .
He'll never trust me again .
I walk into a room and he's there , and I see it right away . He looks at me and for a brief moment I see a flash – just for a second – of his true feelings in his eyes . Then the emotional shutters come down and those green eyes go cold .
" Angel ."
He's civil to me and that's it . He can hardly stand to be in the room with me . There's a wariness now that wasn't there before . His posture changes , and he flinches ever so slightly if I get too close . I try to keep out of his way .
I wish he'd do something . I wish he'd shout and scream and beat me into a bloody little ball hunched on the floor . I'd let him do it , too . It's better than I deserve . But he doesn't , and I know why . It's the same reason he didn't kill me that first night when I went over to his apartment .
Buffy .
She still loves me . I don't know how or why , but after all that's happened , she's forgiven me . I don't deserve to be loved like that . Rupert loves her too , and that's why he tolerates my presence , swallowing all his raging emotions , keeping the agony he must feel every time he sees my face , the face of his tormentor , locked inside him . It's for her .
He thinks we don't care . He thinks we've forgotten , but I haven't . His eyes betray him , and I want to tell him . I want to tell him that to look in those eyes and see the raw , searing agony that will never , ever go away , and to know that I did that – that's the worst punishment of all .
And yet somehow it still doesn't seem like enough .
-^)--)~
By Cyberwulf
Rated 12s (PG-13) for implied torture . Tell me if the rating's too low .
Disclaimer : Characters belong to Joss Whedon .
Spoilers : Passion , Becoming (I&II), Amends , Innocence , The Dark Age .
Summary : Well , I did Giles' thoughts on Angel's return , and an outsider's (Spike's) perception of the long-term damage caused by the events of Passion and Becoming . Now Angel reflects on what he's done . Written because they don't really go into it on the show , apart from 'Amends', and also for the sake of balance . I've taken a bit of an artistic liberty as regards Giles' torture , and also what Angelus did to Drusilla before he turned her . This is the first time I've written Angel seriously , let alone got inside his head , so I'd really like to know what people think . Angel's POV .
I never apologised .
I want to . Most of me wants to . I want to go to him , beg his forgiveness , explain that the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him . I want to tell him that I wouldn't have had that happen to him , that if any trace of me , ME , was in the monster wearing my face , I would've stopped it . I want to say that .
But it just seems so hollow and pointless . As if an apology could bring Jenny back , erase the scars , make the nightmares go away and let him sleep at night . Don't look at me like that . I don't hang around watching him through the window . I know Rupert doesn't sleep well because Drusilla didn't . After I left her parents dead in her house for her to find , she sobbed in her sleep . When she found her younger brother's body , naked , slit from neck to groin , she screamed in her sleep . And when I wrote her a letter from the young man she loved , arranging a meeting in a leafy glade , when she found his mutilated body dangling from one of the trees , she never slept again . She lay awake all night , clutching the blanket , mumbling and singing to herself . Angelus' best work .
And he hasn't lost his touch .
There are rooms in this house I don't go into . I step through a doorway and I can smell Rupert – blood , sweat , fear , vomit . Librarian in the carpet . The single howl of agony I tore from him when I broke his fingers echoes through the empty halls . The memories hit me and I can see him , covered in his own blood , tears flooding down his face , and anger , anger so strong it made him tremble . I think his rage was the only thing that kept him going . I see him , and I hear my voice – only it's not my voice – and the words hit me in the stomach , making me want to retch .
" You're only drawing it on yourself , Rupert ." Calm , almost apologetic , and I know I'm smiling . " Just tell me . A few words and it's all over . The pain will stop . What do you say ?"
Something wet hits my face , and I close my eyes instinctively . His blood and saliva are sliding down my cheek . I feel myself change , my demon coming to the fore .
" Not smart ."
My fingers close around a razor blade .
I stumble out of that room and close the door , both hands over my eyes , which are squeezed tightly shut , in a vain attempt to block out the memory . It never works . I know only too well what happened next . The light catches the blade as it bites into his skin . My mouth waters as the blood bubbles out and begins to trickle down his body . He's trembling and there's fear now , displacing the anger . I pull the blade along his skin , just deep enough to draw blood , not enough to severely damage anything . Not yet . I finish , stand back and admire my handiwork . I look up and he's looking down at what I did , face white under the gore , eyes wide . He's so scared . Angelus loves it . I refasten Rupert's flies and pat him on the knee . I smile again , friendly .
" Next time , I'll cut it off ."
He threw up .
**********
I made Spike clean him up .
" Where's the fun if I can't see my handiwork for blood and puke ?" I laughed , before throwing a rag in my childe's face . " And no tasting , mind ."
Spike's the one I can't place in all this . I didn't realise it at the time , but he was acting like a brake on me . All along , subtly keeping Rupert alive . " What if he's lying ?" when we finally got it out of him and I wanted to kill him . I shake my head . It's something I'll never figure out : Spike , SPIKE , who earned his nickname through torturing his victims with railroad spikes , Spike , Slayer of Slayers , who called me an " Uncle Tom", turns around and saves a Watcher from his soulless sire , who's bent on sucking the world into hell . I almost laugh , the whole thing seems so ridiculous . A year ago , I'd never have thought Rupert would end up owing Spike his life .
Of course , a year ago , I'd never have thought I'd save Jenny Calendar's life , only to take it away a few months later .
**********
The first time I saw Rupert , after I came back – that's when it really hit me , what I'd done to him . Hell had seemed like an eternity . I forgot that it was only a few months for him . He looked right into my eyes . Pain , anger , pure hatred set his own on fire . I couldn't hold his gaze . I said I was sorry to bother him . I didn't know what else to say .
He laughed . Bitter , sarcastic laughter . I remember , I was surprised that he was so calm . He never raised his voice , not once . Not even when I looked up and found myself on the wrong end of a crossbow .
There are days I wish he'd shot me that night . But he didn't .
I'd like to say things are gradually getting back to normal , but they're not . Before all this happened , we were friends . He talked to me . Not just about the next apocalypse . About ordinary things , like his private life and his family . He invited me into his house . He trusted me .
He'll never trust me again .
I walk into a room and he's there , and I see it right away . He looks at me and for a brief moment I see a flash – just for a second – of his true feelings in his eyes . Then the emotional shutters come down and those green eyes go cold .
" Angel ."
He's civil to me and that's it . He can hardly stand to be in the room with me . There's a wariness now that wasn't there before . His posture changes , and he flinches ever so slightly if I get too close . I try to keep out of his way .
I wish he'd do something . I wish he'd shout and scream and beat me into a bloody little ball hunched on the floor . I'd let him do it , too . It's better than I deserve . But he doesn't , and I know why . It's the same reason he didn't kill me that first night when I went over to his apartment .
Buffy .
She still loves me . I don't know how or why , but after all that's happened , she's forgiven me . I don't deserve to be loved like that . Rupert loves her too , and that's why he tolerates my presence , swallowing all his raging emotions , keeping the agony he must feel every time he sees my face , the face of his tormentor , locked inside him . It's for her .
He thinks we don't care . He thinks we've forgotten , but I haven't . His eyes betray him , and I want to tell him . I want to tell him that to look in those eyes and see the raw , searing agony that will never , ever go away , and to know that I did that – that's the worst punishment of all .
And yet somehow it still doesn't seem like enough .
-^)--)~