DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything in the Buffyverse. I'm not trying to make money out of it. Don't sue.
TIMELINE: Angel Season One.
SPOILERS: There isn't anything really.
SYNOPSIS: Angel broods. As usual. Except this time he does it with Dylan accompaniment.
DISTRIBUTION: Anyone can have it, just so long as they credit it to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The song is Not Dark Yet by Bob Dylan, off the Time Out Of Mind album. It's a great album, by the way.
FEEDBACK: I'd love feedback. Wouldn't we all?
RATING: Pretty general.

"Shadows are falling and I been here all day
It's too hot to sleep and time is running away
Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal
There's not even room enough to be anywhere
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there"

He sat reading. It was almost dark enough for him to go out, but he wasn't in a hurry. He didn't know what to expect. He continued to read. A little frustrated and irritated, he hurled the book across the room. He paused a moment before his clean mindedness kicked in and he got up, picked it up, smoothed down the creased pages, and put the book back on the shelf.

"Well my sense of humanity is going down the drain
Behind every beautiful thing, there's been some kind of pain
She wrote me a letter and she wrote it so kind
She put down in writin' what was in her mind
I just don't see why I should even care
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there"

Humanity? Something he dreamed of. Something he wouldn't ever have again. Or maybe.... He had to hope. Stranger things had happened. He wasn't sure what those stranger things were, but they had to have happened, right?

"Well I been to London and I been to gay Paris
I followed the river and I got to the sea
I've been down to the bottom of a whirlpool of lies
I ain't lookin' for nothin' in anyone's eyes
Sometimes my burden is more than I can bear
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there"

It was true, he'd been everywhere, seen everything. He'd been in London in the late 1800s, he'd been in Naples. After Naples, Paris. After Paris, Vienna. After Vienna, Budapest. After Budapest, he'd traveled through the forests and mountains of Eastern Europe, before arriving in Romania. Romania. Sometimes, he wished he'd never gone there. Then he'd think of what he'd been, and was glad. Of course, if he'd have known, he would have asked for a no-hidden-clause curse, but he hadn't known. Until it was way, way too late. That's why he was where he was now. Alone.

"I was born here and I'll die here, against my will
I know it looks like I'm movin' but I'm standin' still
Every nerve in my body is so naked and numb
I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from
Don't even hear the murmur of a prayer
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there"

He wasn't born here in any strict sense. He'd been born in Galway, he'd died in Galway and he'd been born again in Galway. He may have been to London and Paris, but were it not for a certain bewitching blond, he wouldn't ever have got out of Ireland. Nor would he have lived to see the twentieth century. But he had been re-born here. This was where his life started again. So much had happened here. Bad stuff, good stuff, dangerous stuff, wonderful stuff. He began pacing the room nervously. It was almost time. Time to go and see Buffy.

Buffy was the one girl in all the world he had ever loved. He still did love her, but he wouldn't allow himself to be near her. But Giles had called, so to Sunnydale he was going.

The song was beginning to annoy him. It was a little too close to home. As Bob Dylan sang the very last line, he switched the player off and silence descended over him. Silence. He'd once loved silence, the peace and calm. Now it was merely stifling. He turned the CD player on again and pressed a random button, not caring what song began. It was Gotta Serve Somebody. He cringed at the line "It may be the Devil, or it may be the Lord, but you're gonna have to serve somebody." That was too close to home.

"Is this man living my life?" Angel asked out loud, incredulous. He suddenly wished he had another CD to play. He wasn't sure what had possessed Cordelia to buy the CD for him. Sighing, he pressed the button and forwarded to the song he'd been listening to before. Hearing the plaintive voice sing, he looked out the window. It wasn't dark yet, but it was getting there.

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