Thoughts are enclosed in // //,
*****
Whistler hated Hell. A lot. With a fiery passion. Hell was the main reason he worked for The Big Guy and not the Dark One. The Big Guy's digs were so much nicer and conducive to being alive.
Grumbling to himself, he imagined himself at the gates of Hell, and he was there. Just like that, no travel time needed. One of the many perks of being an immortal demon working on the side of the angels.
//Now, to track down Angel and get us the heck out of Dodge.//
Stepping over the threshold, Whistler felt the stagnant air of Hell surround him. //Yikes, this is making my skin crawl.//
"Angel!! Yo, ANGEL!!! Where are you? Can you hear me, Angel?" he bellowed, working his way further into the interior. He continued calling, to no avail. Either Angel couldn't hear him or he was ignoring him.
//Just what I need, to be stuck in Hell with AngstMan. Could my life suck more?//
Concentrating deeply, Whistler bowed his head, mentally searching for a sign of Angel's presence. //Ah ha! There he is.// Setting off, he went off to hunt for Angel.
*****
Angel was suffering.
He was sitting on the ground, a vast, barren nothingness spread out before him in every direction, as far as the eye could see. Since the instant the vortex closed, he had been there, on that empty plane, suffering the agony of the damned. And the worst part was, he was doing it to himself. He was putting himself through the wringer. That was his eternal fate, to torment himself. He had started with naming every person he had killed.
Then that list got to be way too long and he began to confuse himself. So then he skipped ahead to the most recent, the most significant of which was Jenny Calendar. And Kendra. He knew he hadn't physically killed Kendra himself, but he had sent Dru after her, assuring her demise.
Jenny. He had killed Jenny. Buffy's friend -- oh god -- Giles' lover. He could never forgive himself for hurting them the way he had done. Poor little Willow, she had been scared out of her mind when he had grabbed her. And Giles -- he had wounded Giles in a way that would never heal.
//How would I have felt if someone I had trusted had killed Buffy and left her body in my bed for me to find? I would have gone mad.//
Buffy.
He gripped his head in his hands, rocking his body back and forth. //Forgive me Father for I have sinned...Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name...Hail Mary, full of grace...// Words from his Catholic childhood tumbled through his mind, taunting him with their false promises of salvation.
Of all the things he had ever done in his centuries of existence, what he had done to her was the worst. Buffy, the one who had always accepted him for what he was, had always loved him no matter what he had done, had gone against the wishes of all those who were important to her to be with him, not to mention going against her sacred duty. She had always valiantly stood up to all those that came between them, disallowing them to interfere with her heart.
And how did he repay her unconditional love, her trust, her faith? He betrayed her, mocked her, murdered her friends in cold blood. There was no torment enough to make him pay for what he had done.
There could be no amends. Ever.
Even if she forgave him, he could never go back to her, never allow himself the safe haven of her embrace, of her love. He could never allow himself to be welcomed back into her arms.
That was, of course, assuming there was a way out of Hell. Angel couldn't bring himself to care either way. Life was not worth living without her, and no matter what, he couldn't be with her, so any way you cut it, he lost.
But he deserved this loss. It was his penance, to have the one thing he cared about more than anything, ripped from his grasp. It was fitting. He ruined the lives of so many, and this was payback. And was it ever a bitch.
Suddenly, he heard his name being called, in a nasal New York accent that could belong to only one man -- er, demon. Whistler.
//Hell just got worse. If such a thing were possible.//
*****
"Angel! Buddy, pal. How've you been, man?"
Angel raised his head from his knees. He regarded Whistler from red rimmed eyes. "I'm in Hell. How do you think I am?"
"And I see Hell hasn't improved your disposition one bit."
"I don't deserve to be rescued. I deserve Hell for what I've done."
Looking up, Whistler sighed. //Do *I* deserve to listen to this whining,
angst-ridden crap?//
"Listen, you need to want to leave here before we can go, so get to it,
will ya?"
Stubbornly, Angel shook his head. "No. I'm staying here, where I can't do
any more harm."
//This is going to be one heck of a long night,// Whistler thought as he
rubbed his eyes. Then, suddenly, the light bulb over his head went on.
"Okay, Angel, I'll buy the you-deserving-Hell concept. But does Buffy?"
The demon mentally rubbed his hands with glee. //Got him by the short
hairs this time.//
"Buffy? What about Buffy?" Angel questioned as he stood, advancing
towards Whistler.
Whistler shook his head. "Nothing. It's just -- nah, you don't want to
know, with you being in Hell and all."
"Know _what_?"
"Well, Buffy's playing a pretty impressive game of Russian roulette with
the demons back on earth. She's pretty much dared them to kill her. I
think she's got too much pride to do herself in, so she's waiting for one
of them to kill her. Odds are, one of these days one of them will succeed."
Angel let out a low pitched moan of agony as he lunged at Whistler. The
shorter man dove out of the way of the enraged vampire.
"And you LET her do this to herself?" Angel howled, horrified at the
thought of Buffy dead.
"Like I have a choice? Like I could go up to her and say, Hey Buff, you
mind not trying to kill yourself while I'm on watch? She'd slay me and
move on."
"You could talk to her, convince her to live."
"What for? According to her, her only reason for living was sent to Hell
by her own hand."
Frozen in place, Angel could only stare at Whistler. "You mean -- you mean
this is all because of me? She's trying to die --"
"-- She's trying to die so that she'll finally be with you again."
Angel shut his eyes, shaken to the core by the thought that Buffy was
willing to die to be with him. //I love her so much...but I'll kill her if
she hurts herself.// Nodding slowly, Angel accepted his fate. "I'll go
get her, knock some sense into her, and then that's it! I'm never going
near her again. She'll be better off."
Whistler snorted. "Oh, yeah, *that* will work." Angel, buddy o' mine,
have you not realized yet that Buffy's not a normal girl?"
"But it's not her fault that she's not!" Angel protested, jumping
immediately to Buffy's defense.
"I never said it was, but the fact remains, she's not. She's not
completely human, and because of that, she'll never be able to love anyone
else like she loves you."
"That makes no sense, Whistler."
"But it does, my friend. Because Slayers tend not to live past the ripe
old age of 23, everything about them is enhanced. If you ask Buffy, she'd
tell you that she physically matured very early."
"And this has what to do with me?"
"Damn, you still have no patience. You really need to work on that, Mr.
Let's-Destroy-The-World." Shaking his head in frustration, Whistler
continued. "She feels things differently than other mortals, because she's
not really one of them. Every emotion she feels is stronger. It was The
Big Guy's way of repaying them for sending them off to their doom. When
she hates, it's forever, because her forever is probably only going to be a
few more years."
Angel winced, stricken by the thought of Buffy as the Slayee instead of the
Slayer.
"Are you getting it yet? When she loves, that's forever too. That's the
only reason I'm here, really. Oh, sure, the Committee was sad to see you
go, but you were expendable. Not like her. But the fact is, she can't or
won't live without you. So, she gets you. Got it."
Angel sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "I just don't know..."
Reaching over, Whistler grabbed him. "Let's get a move on, shall we?
Time's a wastin'. You can angst on the way."
Angel took his hand, and then there was nothing.
*****