Rating: G
I remember the day the locksmith came to put the lock on the door.
How could I possibly forget it? Wesley had caught me just sitting in
there, and the reaction wasn't pretty. He just uttered a quick "get
out" after asking not so nicely if I missed being in control.
I was too afraid to tell him that he was right. But it
wasn't the kind of control he was thinking of, the kind he so enjoys
when dealing with me. I miss being in control of my own life. I
can't remember the last time I went and really did something just for
me or someone I care about; though if I think back hard enough it was
probably the day they buried Joyce, when I returned to Sunnydale to
be with Buffy.
As I recall, they didn't even want me doing that. But that
was one time when I wasn't going to let myself be ordered around.
Let them take it out of my imaginary pay if they wanted to, but I was
going. What were they going to do, fire me? That's my gig, as
Cordelia delights in pointing out time and time again.
I bought her replacements for what I'd given away to the
shelter, pretended to believe it when she hugged me, pretended that
it was real friendship she was offering me. Who knows.maybe at the
time I thought it was. Fool.
But not anymore. Not that they'd notice at all.
I laugh when they laugh; join in a conversation when invited,
which isn't too often unless it's a direct order that's being given.
And I take the insults when they come on a daily basis, the constant
reminders of how I screwed up with Darla. The name no longer causes
me any pain, but that they don't recognize why it was all so
important to me does.
Back to the door. The locksmith came within hours of Wesley
discovering me in there, and they made me watch as it was put on. I
haven't set foot into the office since that day. It's been so long
I've forgotten what it even looks like in there.
I gave up my own "office" a long time ago. Or at least, what
I was so kindly given as my office, anyway. After two weeks of the
triumphant glances being sent my way by the three of them, Cordelia
especially, I decided it just wasn't worth it. Since then I've made
every effort to be elsewhere in the hotel when they are around and
not needing me to fetch their coffee. Any place will do; the
refreshing darkness of the basement, where I can beat out my
frustrations on a hapless punching bag, or up in the highest room of
the hotel, where Bethany once found shelter.
Now I know what she found so safe about it. Who would bother
to go looking for anyone up there? And it hurts less this way, now
that I don't have to see them going into their closed-door meetings,
where they are undoubtedly talking about my questionable sanity, all
my latest mistakes. Managerial meetings, they've taken to calling
them.
I prefer to think of them as their weekly Angel bashing
session. They usually last a fair amount of time, sometimes up into
the three-hour range.
It happens with such frightening regularity that I've learned
how to use that time for myself, to grab what I can. It was sheer
coincidence the first time she stopped by. Kate does that a lot now;
I guess her being unemployed does have its advantages. Her
statement, not mine. Of course, I'm only "allowed" to socialize
with her on my off time, according to the rules.
Well, rules were made to be broken, weren't they? I've
managed to work my way around them quite well, actually. The last
time I was this secretive about my activities I was hiding from a
demanding and misunderstood father.
In case you can't tell, my employers don't like Kate very
much. They claim she isn't good for me, doesn't treat me with enough
respect. I decided it was better not to comment on that, so they
don't know about all that happened between us. Besides, I'm almost
250, old enough to pick my own friends, I think.
Sometimes we spend the time out behind the hotel, where I can
see the sunlight even if I can't touch it. Other times we retreat to
my upstairs sanctuary. Her latest scheme is to teach me whatever
board games we can lay our hands on. So far Monopoly is high on my
list.
And her experience on the force makes her a good person to be
patching up my wounds, if I need it. I suppose Cordelia would do it
if I asked, but it isn't really an employer's place to be dispensing
medical aid; it's more of a friend thing.
Besides, I'm always careful to hide any injuries from them. I
guess the thought of seeing the lack of concern on their faces is
just too hard for me to deal with. I prefer to think of them
strictly as my employers and not as people I used to consider
friends. Once upon a time, I thought that I could make it all up to
them, that they would truly take me back.
But once upon a time belongs to fairy tales, and the locked
door I am now gazing at is mute testimony to the fact that this isn't
a fairy tale, and there is no happy ending for the lot of us.
The door slams and I spin around, startled out of my thoughts. As
always, she looks proud that she was able to surprise me.
"Getting slow in your old age, Angel? I've read that hearing is
the first thing to go."
I quickly flash her my game face and she laughs. That laugh
warms my heart and chases out some of the cold that now resides here
in this hotel. After all, it wasn't too long ago that the same thing
she just laughed at was something she condemned me for. I turn to
look again at the locked door. They're in there right now, having
one of their meetings. I'm sure I could kick the door down if I
wanted to, could force my way in.
I just know that it wouldn't be worth the effort.
A pair of warm arms going around my neck jolts me out of my
thoughts, and I can't help but stiffen at the unexpected contact.
She's never done this before.
I wait for her to pull away, but she doesn't. So I tentatively
return the embrace, trying to forget about how long it's been since I
hugged someone. It feels nice, comfortable.
She waits until I let go before she backs away, and the look on
her face nearly brings me to tears.
In response, she just shakes her head and reaches for my bags.
She's right; there isn't much time.
"Are you going to tell them where you're going?"
I glance at the door before shaking my head. "No, I left them a
note saying I'd be back in a few days. Besides, they'd just make me
get them some more coffee. That's not my job."
She looks surprised, but proud. "About time you took that leash
off."
As we head for the door I hear them coming out of the office,
but for once, I don't turn around when Cordelia yells my name. She
doesn't deserve that respect from me, hasn't for a long time. Maybe
when I get back, things will be different.
Scratch that, I know they're going to be different. Because
when I get back, we're either going to learn how to work with one
another, or I'm leaving. I can fight the good fight without them,
visions be damned. I'll just leave them a number where they can
reach me if I'm really needed. But I won't be getting them coffee
anymore.
As we climb into my car, Kate throws our bags into the back seat
before giving me a curious look. "What's in Sunnydale, anyway?"
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Disclaimer: Yeah..right..they're mine.that's why Angel is being
treated like he is.
Spoilers: "Forever", "Disharmony" otherwise known as "let's all
insult Angel for kicks"
Feedback: Yes please.. Acathla98@hotmail.com
Author's notes: I didn't even watch the episode..just reading the
summary was enough to make me sick.and make me question
whether "Angel" was even worth watching anymore. I don't get my
kicks from seeing Angel's character get unfairly demolished. This is
my way of dealing with it. Believe me, many more violent
possibilities occurred to me, and may yet happen. Takes place a
few months after Disharmony.