DISCLAIMER: All stuff BtVS and A:ts belong to joss and co. I'm not making any money from this so don't bother suing me.
RATING: R for language.
SPOILERS: Every thing up to seasons 3/6 to be on the safe side.
SUMMARY: Angel's brooding in his room some time after Buffy's death in 'The Gift'.
AN: Just something that came to me on my break. As always this is for kristi.
Angel's POV

Someone once told me that being yourself was hard, I can't remember who. I thought they were wrong. I never understood what they meant until I had people to be myself with, but they're still wrong.

Being me is easy. Being me is natural. With Buffy I could be me, and it was the simplest thing in the world. With Buffy, I wasn't Angel or Angelus, I wasn't Human or Demon, I wasn't the dark avenger or the Scourge of Europe, I was just me. I'm not saying everything with Buffy was easy or that she liked every part of me, because it wasn't and she didn't. But she never made me feel I couldn't be me.

I love my friends; they're nice to have. Friends are such a new concept for me, who is a very old person. I know they won't last, even if we're friends until they die, they still will, die that is. I won't, at least not of old age or disease and I have no intention of loosing my head or taking up sunbathing so in all likely hood I will outlive them, doesn't mean I don't like having them now. Its just sometimes they ask me to do the hardest thing I've ever had to do. They want me to be someone other than me.

You see to them me is a little scary. Or depressing, Cordelia often accuses me of being depressing. But I like being me, its easy and. Ok I don't always like me, me is a little scary to me too sometimes. I suppose that's what happens when you put two polar opposites in the same place; they don't always get on. And that's essentially what I am, two polar opposites inhabiting the same space. Demon and soul, man and beast, all squished up into 6 foot 2 inches of dead Irish ex catholic male.

So I'm a little screwed up, can you blame me? But when you've been all squished up in 6 foot 2 inches of dead Irish ex-catholic male for over a hundred years you'd think people would cut you some slack. They don't, trust me. They want me to be this other me, this me they like and aren't afraid of, this other me who isn't still in mourning.

Yeah, they want me to be that me, the one who smiles and Jokes and fights the good fight and doesn't cry at night because the love of his life is dead. They want me to be the me that gives a shit that Fred hides from the world or that Cordelia smells like too much perfume and arousal every time I step in a room.

Well that me is on vacation. That me has been working overtime and is now officially too worn out to work. You see that me loved her too, just didn't show it often and that me is mourning too and that me does cry at night but hides his head under the pillow so his sobs can't be heard and that me is just too damned tired of working so hard to be what they want that he's fucked off. And now they want that me back. But he won't come back, because all that's left is, well me, the real me, and the real me has been trying to be that other me but can't do it quite right and they're getting scared.

Oh yeah, I can smell it, Fred always smells scared so I don't think that counts, but I can smell it on Wes and Gunn and even underneath all that perfume and arousal I can smell it on Cordelia. I can hear it too, that other me ignored it, but I can't, the real me has feelings and is hurt that his friends think he's going to eat them coz he's in mourning.

Getting confused with the he's and me's? I told you I was screwed up.

I can hear them whispering downstairs; they think I'm loosing it. I AM trying; it's just hard right now. It may never be easy again. And I'm so tired; I don't think they understand how tiring it is to do what they ask. They all want something from me and they all want different things. They do all have one thing in common though, they all want the other me back. It's my own fault really. I created the other me for them, and when It got too much to be that other me they were taken by surprise.

Buffy wouldn't be surprised, she knew the real me, she knew ME. She even loved ME. I know she didn't love the other me, it was the other me who pretended to be Angelus, I didn't want to, It was the other me who walked away. No that was me, but it was the other me that agreed 100% with what Joyce Summers was saying, I never did. The other me always agrees with them, he loses control sometimes and I step in, but mostly the other me is around when they are. It's not easy, but it's safer.

Why safer? Because the real me IS frightening and frightened humans tend to get stake happy. The real me has feelings that make me unpredictable, like humans. But it's worse because I'm squished inside 6 foot 2 inches of dead Irish ex catholic with an insane demon and it's not fun. Especially when your soul mate has died and your best friend has the hots for you and your other me is on vacation.

That's why I'm here, now, in my room, because with out the other me, the real me gets hurt by the humans being scared and not really caring. Humans who like the other me because he's so very human at times but not at the same time because he IS predictable and he IS safe and he IS interested in going out and fighting for a redemption that now has no meaning. Notice I call them humans? Well that's because they're friends with the other me, the real me only ever had one friend and she's dead.

Everyone wants the other me back, well they can have him when I get Buffy back. I hurt too much to be him without her.

"ANGEL! WE HAVE A CASE! GET YOUR BROODY ASS DOWNSTAIRS!"

Being ME is easy. I'm just not the me they want.

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