Disclaimer: oh please, as if I even want to own them these days
Category: Angst
Pairing: not really any in this one, but there are hints of B/A, mention of C/A, G/F
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), ffnet, if you have any of my stuff, just take it, anybody else please tell me where it goes
Spoilers: the whole Buffy-Angel-Saga, I have, however, not seen the latest episodes (I didn't want to be spoiled for another story I was writing), but it doesn't really matter for the story (I've heard rumours though)
Summary: Angel broods (and yeah, I know it's actually - gasp - out of character for him these days. But who knows. After the recent events on the show … there might be hope!)
Timeline: a month after Connor disappeared
Feedback: oh yes, please!!!
Dedication: For Ducks and Vatrixsta who gave us such a great comfort-story with "Bleed", thanks guys! I'm still weepy after reading it a zillion times, it's so bleedin' beautiful.
Author's Note: I am a B/A-shipper, and in my book there's only one person who could help Angel in a situation like this. So if you are C/A or B/S, then just turn away now. You've been warned. And if you still want to send flames - send them on - I will forward them directly to Marti Noxon, David Greenwalt, and Joss Wheadon for what they're taking us through with this seasons.
Author's Note 2: I won't go into detail, but you still might get spoiled for season 6/3
Author's Note 3: For this story, Connor is disappeared and although the fang-gang has tried finding a way to get him back, all has been in vain.
And once more with the author's notes: Don't worry, I will continue all the other stories I'm currently writing. I promise. But I have the sudden urge to write this. I can't help it. It just pours out of me and so all I can do is go with the flow. < g >

I sometimes wonder if the sky has always been that black.

A lot of people want to travel back in time, they insist things were better then, but they don't know. People tend to idealize things they don't know about, tend to think the worst about the present. And of course, there were things better than today. Back in the days no cars were poisoning the air, people had enough time to live their lives, not to just skip through it. But also did children die of diseases that are cured easily these days. Classes defined you rather than talent or brains. Keeping up appearances was more important than anything. I know what I'm talking about, I've been there.

I sometimes wonder if the moon has always been that bright.

And it is bright today, a fact that isn't lost to me. Is it irony, I wonder? Is it the powers trying to send me a sparkle of hope in a sea of blackness? There is a moon, but I can't see any stars. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen. A black sky, a bright moon, but not a single star accompanying it. If I was anything but a 250 year old vampire it might give me shivers. If I was anything but a father who is grieving for the loss of his son, I might even care.

Maybe I've just lost the ability to see the stars at all. It should bother me, I realise, but it doesn't.

As it is, I see the black sky, and the bright moon, and the absence of stars and it means nothing to me. My eyes only see emptiness, an emptiness in my world, in my body, in my soul. I don't feel anything either. How can you feel if your very soul has been ripped from you, when your unbeating heart has crumbled into something you don't recognise anymore.

The hotel is empty at midnight. I sit here on the roof, staring at nothing, taking in my surroundings but not really seeing them. They all left early today, told me there wasn't anything to do tonight. Which is true. There is nothing to do, but weeks ago they still stayed, still hang around until long after midnight. Not anymore, though.

I'm sure they're tired tiptoeing around me, which I never expected them to do, but it happens nevertheless. Wesley still can't look at me. Where he usually would have given me some good advice, he now tries to busy himself the moment I enter the lobby. And I can understand why. Grief and guilt are strong feelings, threatening to pull you down under with them. I can see them in his gaze, see the lines of strain on his face, the red-rimmed eyes speaking of not enough sleep. I know I should talk to him, help him - it's my job after all, isn't it -, but somehow I can't. I just don't have it in me. Not now. Maybe not ever. So we keep tiptoeing around each other, trying to pretend we're fine.

Cordy is watching me every time she thinks I'm not looking. And sometimes even if she knows I do. Then her eyes have that 'I'm sorry, but life has to go on'-look in them and I want to scream and shake her. But of course I don't. She can't know, she cannot understand how I feel. I know she wants me to talk to Wes, thinks it's time to move on.

Oh, she was angry with him - at first. Where I was numb, she raged. Where words failed me, she yelled. She yelled so loud I thought the walls of the old building might come down. Then after the yelling came the ignoring. She pretended Wes wasn't there at all. But with each day the wall cracked a little bit more, and two weeks later I came down the stairs and found them chattering away together. When they saw me they looked away guiltily, but I realised things were back to normal between them. Crime. Punishment. Forgiveness.

I wish things were that easy for me, too.

I wish things would matter at all.

I wish I could feel.

Gunn maybe is the one who understands best. Not just the recent events, but everything. He killed his sister. Yes, she was a demon when he did, but that doesn't change the fact that he raised the stake and drove it through her heart. Doesn't change the fact that he can still feel her remains settling on his skin when she exploded into dust. The same way I can feel Kathy's blood run down my throat every time I close my eyes. He killed the demon, I was the demon, we both didn't actually kill our sisters, but we still did. And we can never forget.

He says he's never going to be my friend and I don't mind. It might sound strange, but I really don't. I would be surprised if he could. He's only human after all. But that doesn't change the fact that we'll always have this kinship between us, one pair of ancient eyes recognizing the other. There are unspoken truths, we understand without talking, there are thoughts we don't have to share. We both didn't choose the path we're travelling, but we do nevertheless. We can't change what we are, and probably we're really never going to be friends. But we trust each other. It might not always look that way - but we still do.

I wondered at first if he might turn to Cordy. There was a lot of tension between them, almost the way it was when she was starting to date Xander Harris. But unlike Xander - at least the boy Xander was then - Gunn doesn't thrive on tension, doesn't want crackling attraction. He seems to need exactly the person Fred is. Quiet, understanding, compassionate. A little bit lost. Because Gunn is lost, too. Most of the time he's just ignoring it or busy keeping up his tough image. In the end, however, your soul, your inner self will always recognize its kin. And so I'm not really surprised Fred and Gunn found each other, as mismatched as they might seem at first.

And for Fred - sweet, shy, self-conscious Fred - he's the best thing that could have happened to her. It was hard for her to find her way again. After five years of Pylea, of being treated like scum, of hiding, of trying to hold on to sanity, she was suddenly back. I've been through it myself, and I know the path is rough. You can never forget what you've been through. But you have to find a way to live with it. I'm glad she found it and that Gunn is here to help.

I wish there was someone for Cordy, too. She always looks strong, capable. But she isn't. Not inside. There she's desperately trying to find herself, to find a place where she belongs. For a moment - a short, insane moment - I thought I could be that place. That we could be good together, help each other, the way Gunn and Fred do. That we could play family. Mom, Dad, -

I feel myself shy away from the word, the pain connected to it too much to bear. And whatever I felt for Cordy got lost within. I think about the way she looked tonight, reading a file. She gazed at me and smiled and somewhere something stirred. I remember that I once thought she might be the answer. Unfortunately I can't remember the question. So instead of reacting to her smile, I just turned away. Her smile meant nothing. It couldn't touch me.

Maybe I'm truly dead.

I can see the irony of that sentence of course, because I am dead. Have been dead for a long time, with the exception of 24 hours of course, but as time was turned back they never happened and the memory fades with every passing hour. Sometimes I even wonder if it was nothing but a dream in the first place. Because I used to have these dreams. A lot actually. Especially the weeks after. Where I was trying to figure out if I'd done the right thing. Where I sometimes felt I had to scream. Not anymore, though. And certainly not now. I just don't have it me to care.

I wonder if I will ever again.

Maybe that's the reason I sit up here, staring at a black sky and a bright moon and feel more dead than ever. I thought after killing my own family, and having to live with it, there was nothing that could bring me down.

But I was wrong.

I stare at my hands. Big hands, broad palms, long fingers, the skin pale in the moonlight. Who am I? Are these hands really mine? And does it really matter? A demon killed with these hands. A lover gave pleasure. And a father-

Cordy told me I needed to grieve. She told me I should scream. That I should cry. I just stared at her.

Scream? Grieve? Cry?

The words sound foreign to me. I thought I knew pain and guilt, thought I knew I understood what all the parents went through when they found their children dead, killed by a demon's hand. I thought the amount of my own guilt.

But again, I was wrong.

I knew nothing. And I find myself wishing that I could've kept that little piece of innocence. Maybe then I could still see some sense in anything. Maybe then there would still be a reason.

Suddenly the hair at the back of my neck stands up straight. I can feel a presence. Something familiar, someone-

Usually my instincts would kick in and I'd whirl around, attacking whatever was intruding my privacy. But I don't. Still, I can't help feeling this bone deep sensation, and without even looking I know who is standing on my roof, only a few feet away. Almost automatically my head turns. For a short moment I wonder if it's maybe a dream. But it can't be. I haven't slept for weeks.

In another life I would've noticed her beauty, her flawless skin, the light dancing in her hair, the lovely shape of her mouth. But today all I see are those eyes. Ancient eyes. Eyes that have seen more than they should. Eyes that I once wanted to shield. Once, when things still mattered to me.

We look at each other. She is so serious. She doesn't smile the way she used to do. She doesn't speak. I don't even try to understand why she is here. There were times when my undead heart almost skipped a beat when she was close. Or at least it felt that way. I used to open my arms for her then, tried to give her comfort. Tonight, however, I just turn away from her, because there's nothing I can offer. I'm empty.

After a moment she sits down beside me. We don't talk. We don't touch, just stare at the black sky and the bright moon.

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