Best Kept Secrets: The Rosenberg Archives (Entry 23)

Author: Kate

E-mail: kijo62@aol.com

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of my own creation, all of the original BtVS characters and their world belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. The song "Black" is performed by Sarah McLachlan. The lyrics to the song "Here" belong to Vast. All are used without permission (I'll return them all unharmed) and no copyright infringement is intended (like most who post, I'm broke, so please don't sue).

Spoilers: All 3 seasons of BtVS.

Summary: It's the year 2047 and Aishling Rosenberg has recently discovered that her grandmother left behind a vast collection of letters, stories, research notes, etc.

Distribution: You want it, it's yours, just let me know where it's going to be living. Feedback: Yes please. It makes me *so* happy!

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From the desk of Willow A. Rosenberg 01-30-2001 @ 1730

Ah, so where was I? Had to pause for a while and get some sleep. I really fear that I am becoming quite a nocturnal creature. Think I need to stay away from the vampires...at least for a while. I try too hard to live in both the darkness and the light and it ends up biting me in the ass. So, where did I leave off? Oh, yes....Angel and I were in Sunnydale. August 1999. That damned song that still makes my heart ache...

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The hot shower felt wonderful! I just stood under the hard jets of near scalding water for the longest time, letting it thaw me. Once I’d stopped shivering, I reached over and grabbed the bottle of body wash that Angel had left in the shower. I usually used the bath attached to the room I had chosen for myself, but since Angel had pointed me in the direction of his own room, this was were he apparently wanted me to be. The liquid soap had a nice fragrance, citrus with a hint of spice. Not too masculine. The shampoo matched it. Made me think of those things we made in school when we were kids - the orange with the cloves stuck in it, you tied ribbons around it and gave it to your mom, who was supposed to love it and hang it in her closet. I don’t remember ever seeing mine hanging in any closet.

When I was done showering, I headed for my own room to get some dry clothes. I had to hurry. I was wrapped only in a towel and the cold was trying to seep back into me. Gosh, it was late August in Sunny California and the big old house was still like an ice box! I threw on some shorts, a sweat shirt, and so thick wooly socks, then head out to the great room to build a fire. I’d taught myself how. [I puff with pride here.] After the first few smoky attempts, I had become quite proficient at it. I’d have a nice roaring fire going by the time Angel returned.

The clock chimed the time just as I was putting a match to the kindling. It was only midnight. I’d thought it was much later. I guessed I arrived at the mansion around 9pm. Gee, a lot had happened in just a few hours...

At least I didn’t have to worry so much about Angel. It wasn’t close to dawn at all and he was a big boy, more than capable of taking care of himself. That thought made me sad. I couldn’t stand to think of him having no one to care for him, no one to love him.

His current situation really sucked, if you thought about it. He’d existed for over a century as a purely evil creature, but at least he’d had companions, demons though they might also be. Still, he didn’t have to be alone. He’d had a choice. Now, after all the shit he’s been through, he’s all by himself. He’s let go of Buffy. Past events, some of which he really had no control over, have caused him to loose almost everyone here he had one called ‘friend’. How truly lonely he must be.

I started to cry, a little. I mean, when I left there, I had my family to go back to. Dysfunctional as we may be, we’re still a family of sorts. I also had Buffy, and Xander, and Giles. And Oz. Who was Angel going back to? LA is a big, hard city...

Oh, but he didn’t know I knew that little tidbit. Wonder what he’d do if he knew I knew he was living in LA? Well, he’s got no one to blame but himself for my having discovered his whereabouts. He did a lousy job of covering his tracks...

Hhmmm...maybe he meant to?

I reluctantly walked over to the sound system. The house just seemed too quite. The silence didn’t usually bother me; it was one of the reasons why I came here alone. I can only assume that my sudden discomfort had something to do with knowing that Angel was nearby but not in the house with me.

I was so not in the mood to hear any more Sarah McLachlan, so once I powered up the system, I hit the button to shuffle the disks and let the CD player pick some tunes for me.

Big mistake.

The collection of songs that started to play was worse than “Black”. It was a CD full of “Music To Brood By”...all of which had obviously been selected and recorded by none other then The Zen Master of Brood himself...Angel.

Shit, I couldn’t win. The music playing was telling my way more about Angel’s current state of mind than I really wanted to know at that moment. Still, this was what I was looking for, wasn’t it? To know him better?

[Will, you’ve had the man’s blood in your mouth and his balls in your hand, how much *better* can you get to know him?]

Wow. Just what was I getting myself into? I was just a girl. A girl who’d grown-up on a Hellmouth, sure. A girl who had a certain penchant for the black arts and creatures who occasionally howl at the moon, but still just a girl. What in the goddess’ name was I doing plunging headlong into some kind of twisted relationship with a 246 year old vampire? My best friends’ love at that...

The cut over my left breast was starting to feel itchy. As I rubbed it, I couldn't help but think of how Angel's tongue had felt, rough yet soft, as he slid it across my skin, catching the blood which had flowed from the wound. That thought led to a now all too familiar feeling of warmth way down low in my belly. Ugh...

With a very audible I groan, I dropped down on to the sofa nearest to the fireplace The fire was burning well now, hot and bright. Throwing an arm over my eyes to block out some of the light and my own naughty thoughts, I just laid there and let the heat from the fire soak into me. And I let myself get caught up in the music.

Like I said...Big Mistake. Huge in fact.

The songs, for the most part, were very dark. Big shock, hunh?

The lyrics were intense. The music itself ranged from pounding tunes to ones which were hauntingly beautiful. But each song was undeniably chosen for the thoughts and emotions it evoked. If they hurt me so much, I could only imagine what they did to Angel.

Still, I managed to hold it all together for quite some time. Then it played, the one song that I will forever think of as “Angel’s Theme Song”...Vast’s “Here". The music started out hard, driven, then bridged to something more melodic before going right back to the harsh sounds. But it was the lyrics which permanently etched themselves into my brain and broke off a tiny piece of my heart...

where do i put the shame? it feels like a broken toy i can’t play with anymore where do i put the hate? to a pixilated screen i can’t watch anymore all i know is that i’m here drifting somewhere in the vast somewhere in eternity and i never want to leave where do i put the books there’s so many i could read but they all are filled with lies where do i put the lies there’s so many i could say but it seems they’re in the books i have faith that you’re out there living high up in the vast somewhere in eternity and you’re never going to leave have i been telling lies to myself? hold me now you know i am so afraid to be at all have i been telling lies to myself? hold me now you know i am so afraid to love at all where do i put the love? where do i put the love?

The tears came then. Actually, I think something inside me shattered. I lost it. I bawled....

End Entry Twenty-Three
 

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