Fallen AngelsBy Kristi
Rock Bottom
@--Angel--@
I couldn’t tell them how the meeting had gone. They wouldn’t understand. Their little spoof of my life was proof of that. I wanted ice cream, cookie dough mint chip. And I wanted to eat it with someone who wouldn’t act like it didn’t matter that Buffy was alive.
Later, locked in my room, brooding, I heard Cordelia.
“Great, he goes to see Buffy and we have to deal with the fallout. He’ll be brooding for days over her.”
She has no idea. No one does. And if I were to discuss it with them they’d tell me to get over it. Cordy turns the radio on downstairs. The words drift up to me.
I played the fool today
And I can see us vanishing into the crowd
Longing for home again
But home is a feeling I buried in you
I’m alright, I’m alrightIt only hurts when I breathe
Of course, I don’t actually breathe, but the meaning of the words are not lost on me. It hurts every single second of every single day. If I’m having a good day, I’ll get 10 seconds of not noticing the pain, not that it goes away, but that I don’t notice it. Cordy, Wes and Gunn think there is no pain as long as they can see smiling and laughing and pretending to live. What they don’t realize is the pain is always there, at those time it’s not an unusual amount of pain.
Animals, even humans, if exposed to pain long enough get used to it. Then you apply an extraordinary amount pain, something above and beyond what they are used to. It doesn’t mean the original pain went away. I know, I used the same method in torture for decades. It’s karma I suppose, all coming back to me. And I accept it, I deserve it but Buffy doesn’t.
@--Buffy--@
The car ran out of gas. I’ve been sitting here listening to the radio for I don’t know long. Did I mention I can’t remember how time works here? All I know is the sun comes up, he goes away. Sometimes when the sun goes down he comes back. Maybe if I’m still long enough he’ll come back.And I can’t ask for things to be still again
No I can’t ask for you
To offer the world through your eyes
Longing for home again
But home is a feeling I buried in you
I’m alright I’m alrightIt only hurts when I breathe
I’m alright I’m alright
It only hurts when I breathe
Breathing, that’s when the pain started, my first breath inside my coffin. They made me claw out of my own grave. It hurt. It hurt that they didn’t care enough to dig me up first. Angel dug out of his grave. I hadn’t had to breathe in Heaven, maybe that’s why it hadn’t hurt. No, that wasn’t right. Angel hurt. I could see the pain in his eyes. He doesn’t have to breathe. Maybe breathing just hurts for me. It didn’t always. Once, before Angel left, breathing had been something I never though about. It was an automatic response to breathe in and breathe out. I wish I didn’t have to breathe, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.
@--Angel--@
My window through which nothing hides
And everything sings
I’m counting the signs
And cursing the miles in between
But HomeIs a feeling
I buried in you
I’m alright I’m alrightIt only hurts when I breathe
I’m alright I’m alright
It only hurts when I breathe
Its night again, I think. The dark curtains in my room block out the daylight. I want to go get her. I want to take her somewhere where no one else exists and lose myself in her. I want her to let go and lose herself in me. When I hold her there is a place where there is no Heaven, there is no Hell, no guilt, no remorse, no anger, no sadness, no vengeance or pain and suffering. There is only love.
Cordelia knocks on my door. I can smell her perfume. It’s a flowery expensive brand. I don’t answer. I know she’ll come inside anyway. It only takes a moment before she does. She’s holding the cordless phone.
“It’s Willow.”
I die inside all over. Willow never calls with good news. I can’t avoid it and much worse can it be. My lover was pulled out of Heaven.
“Hello,”
“Angel, is Buffy with you?” the red head asks.
“No, she should be home by now.”
“Angel, she’s not here. We haven’t heard from her all day or this evening.” Willow sounded worried, near tears.
“I’ll be right there.” I said.
As I drive the miles between LA and Sunnydale, I wonder why I didn’t make this trip just to visit her. It’s not that far. I could have gone to patrol with her every once in awhile, just to make sure she was doing ok. The only time I ever made this trip was when Buffy was in trouble.
@--Buffy--@
I left the car in an alley. I put the keys in it. I hope someone will steal it and get far away from here before anyone finds out its stolen. I walk through the alleys, looking at the people living there. They look like me, lost, numb. I wonder if they were ripped out of Heaven too, probably not. No one stops me. No one asks how I’m doing, as if that wasn’t the stupid question of the century. No one tells me I need to eat or sleep or shower.
When I breathe
It only hurts when I breathe
When I breathe
It only hurts when I breathe.
*I woke up in the arch of a beautiful building. There were gargoyles on top of the building. Aren’t they put up there to guard against demons and evil spirits? I wonder why they didn’t attack me. I stand up and start walking down the street again.
This is nice. No one notices me here. I’m just a face that looks like every other face out here. I’m not the slayer. I haven’t been to Heaven or to Hell. I’m just like the woman with the shopping cart full of things, except she has more things.
More importantly I don’t have to pretend here. I don’t have to smile and laugh with my friends and pretend my heart wasn’t ripped out when Angel left. I don’t have to act like I’ve moved on, like I’m happy with my brand new normal boyfriend. I don’t have pretend to be strong. I don’t have to pretend to be handling things as well as Mom would have.
*
The gargoyles watched over me again. I’ve taken to actually sleeping at night and waking in the day. I don’t slay vampires or demons or any other beasts. Okay, if I see one attacking someone in an alley I’ll kill it, but I’m not patrolling and I’m looking for them. That part of me is gone, like all the other parts that were Buffy.