Her mind throbbed; images passed before her, devouring her in her own
misery. When she looked back up at Angelus, she realized what had happened
to him. What happened to her.
A soul. She could feel her body convulsing, attempting to reject the intruding soul. She was old, older than Angelus, and she had far more sins to regret. With all her being, she attempted to fight it off. But the magic was to strong: she collapsed in exhaustion, with a soul deeply imbedded in her chest.
Angel watched quietly as Darla fell. His mind was not quiet, by any means, but no words escaped his lips. Not until he felt the sun begin to rise.
As much as he had come to hate his sire for destroying him, he couldn't be responsible for the death of the one who thought she was offering life. He wasn't sure his soul could stand the burden.
At the same time, though, he wondered if it would be kinder to let her burst into flame. Then, she wouldn't have the same itching desire to torture herself, to knife her eyes out, to never look upon her hands again. Hell would be worse, he reasoned to himself, even in his confused mind. He had to give her the choice of a second chance.
He growled audibly, and began muttering. As Angelus, he had flipped through many spells, although he was never all that good at it. Here, surrounded by the magical presence of the gypsies (especially with all the loose magic being admitted off the dead bodies), he was able to cast a simple spell.
A healing spell, he thought dryly. Angelus would never have thought he would need it. Strange.
The spell barely succedded in bringing his sire from her unconciousness, but her eyes opened and she was aware enough of the danger of the approaching dawn. He could see the turmoil inside her dazed eyes, but he also saw something akin to gratitude.
She smiled at him, though it was more of a kind gesture than something portraying actual emotion. "You saved me," she whispered. Was she really worth saving to him? she thought. Did he care enough for her, even after all that she had done, to prevent her death?
Angel just sat there, unreadable. She took a step toward him before remembering the spell on the hut. With a quick glance at the reddening sky, she looked him in the eye. "Thank you, my Angelus. I...I'm not ready to go yet." Tears threatened to clense her eyes for the first time in almost 300 years. They wouldn't be washed with water and salt, but with blood. "I will return the favor." She looked hopeful. " I can save you." With that said, she dashed for the shelter of the fading shadows. Moments later, the sun rose above the hill, shedding light on the frozen corpses. Angel shivered as the sun rose, in physical pain. He didn't plan on ever seeing Darla again, she would probably drown in her sins and forget all about him. Right now, she was just wading the water.
AN: Should I continue????
A soul. She could feel her body convulsing, attempting to reject the intruding soul. She was old, older than Angelus, and she had far more sins to regret. With all her being, she attempted to fight it off. But the magic was to strong: she collapsed in exhaustion, with a soul deeply imbedded in her chest.
Angel watched quietly as Darla fell. His mind was not quiet, by any means, but no words escaped his lips. Not until he felt the sun begin to rise.
As much as he had come to hate his sire for destroying him, he couldn't be responsible for the death of the one who thought she was offering life. He wasn't sure his soul could stand the burden.
At the same time, though, he wondered if it would be kinder to let her burst into flame. Then, she wouldn't have the same itching desire to torture herself, to knife her eyes out, to never look upon her hands again. Hell would be worse, he reasoned to himself, even in his confused mind. He had to give her the choice of a second chance.
He growled audibly, and began muttering. As Angelus, he had flipped through many spells, although he was never all that good at it. Here, surrounded by the magical presence of the gypsies (especially with all the loose magic being admitted off the dead bodies), he was able to cast a simple spell.
A healing spell, he thought dryly. Angelus would never have thought he would need it. Strange.
The spell barely succedded in bringing his sire from her unconciousness, but her eyes opened and she was aware enough of the danger of the approaching dawn. He could see the turmoil inside her dazed eyes, but he also saw something akin to gratitude.
She smiled at him, though it was more of a kind gesture than something portraying actual emotion. "You saved me," she whispered. Was she really worth saving to him? she thought. Did he care enough for her, even after all that she had done, to prevent her death?
Angel just sat there, unreadable. She took a step toward him before remembering the spell on the hut. With a quick glance at the reddening sky, she looked him in the eye. "Thank you, my Angelus. I...I'm not ready to go yet." Tears threatened to clense her eyes for the first time in almost 300 years. They wouldn't be washed with water and salt, but with blood. "I will return the favor." She looked hopeful. " I can save you." With that said, she dashed for the shelter of the fading shadows. Moments later, the sun rose above the hill, shedding light on the frozen corpses. Angel shivered as the sun rose, in physical pain. He didn't plan on ever seeing Darla again, she would probably drown in her sins and forget all about him. Right now, she was just wading the water.
AN: Should I continue????
