nyxocity (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} nyxocity) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} angel_yay,@ 2007-08-09 22:20:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sacrifice (Ficlet)
All right, I'll go first! :) Since I haven't had time to write anything new, I'll re-post a little something here that's only been available on my LJ until now.
------
Title: Sacrifice
Author:thenyxie
Rating: T
Genre: Character study
Notes: Written post-Hellbound (ep 5.4)
Summary: "Some people can't be saved," he said, thoughts of Connor weighing heavily on his mind.
And when they are gone, he locks the doors again, bars himself against the world outside with barriers that reach far beyond the usual laconic repression of self.
He pours himself a glass of blood, giving only a stray thought for the ease of it; blood bought with the convenience of blood, blood he had offered up with his own hands. Blood that he had prayed would bring peace, but never did. Blood that should have flowed with passion and the heartache given to normal teenage years. A face and a heart that should have stood beside him. A face that haunts him every night in his dreams.
He knows what deeds his actions have wrought. He accepts the damnation of them without question, and he wonders how they strike at his heart in a way that no deed he ever committed as Angelus ever has.
But that's the rub, isn't it? he thinks, his mental voice the voice of Spike, too recent, too familiar and understood.
Oh how Spike would laugh at this.
He sets the glass aside, and collapses into his chair.
His head sinks to his hands, and he holds himself without the tenderness he so wishes he could have from others. Tenderness he would never dare ask for, tenderness he knew he didn't deserve.
For God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten son...
The thought trails off in bitterness and acidic memory. Arrogant, perhaps, to compare himself to the divine, but he can't help it.
How sharper than a serpent's tooth is an ungrateful child.
His voice breaks, cracks across two syllables. The pain of a throat too long parched with days in the desert with no water, no hope, no love.
"Connor."
He used to wonder once; how long must he suffer? How many good deeds must he commit before he is redeemed? And now he knows that redemption was only a dream. A pipe dream given with the best of intentions, but a dream nonetheless. He killed his only son--no matter that it was for a better life, no matter that his son might be happier where he is now. He gave up. Threw in the towel. He didn't ask for permission, didn't give thought for what he might bring upon himself and others. He had simply seen an opportunity and taken it. It had seemed all he could do... and yet he cannot reconcile the implications.
When things get too tough, go to a higher power. Play between the lines, find your way around the rules. Do anything, so long as you think you might make him happy. Rules, laws, love. It all goes out the window when it comes to him. But is he happy? Is he truly happy? Or does he simply think he is, given the memories and life you pre-arranged for him?
Anyone could be happy, if they didn't know the truth.
And sometimes, Angel thinks he did a great thing by sparing his son the truth. Sometimes.
It's the coldest comfort he can imagine.
All right, I'll go first! :) Since I haven't had time to write anything new, I'll re-post a little something here that's only been available on my LJ until now.
------
Title: Sacrifice
Author:
thenyxieRating: T
Genre: Character study
Notes: Written post-Hellbound (ep 5.4)
Summary: "Some people can't be saved," he said, thoughts of Connor weighing heavily on his mind.
And when they are gone, he locks the doors again, bars himself against the world outside with barriers that reach far beyond the usual laconic repression of self.
He pours himself a glass of blood, giving only a stray thought for the ease of it; blood bought with the convenience of blood, blood he had offered up with his own hands. Blood that he had prayed would bring peace, but never did. Blood that should have flowed with passion and the heartache given to normal teenage years. A face and a heart that should have stood beside him. A face that haunts him every night in his dreams.
He knows what deeds his actions have wrought. He accepts the damnation of them without question, and he wonders how they strike at his heart in a way that no deed he ever committed as Angelus ever has.
But that's the rub, isn't it? he thinks, his mental voice the voice of Spike, too recent, too familiar and understood.
Oh how Spike would laugh at this.
He sets the glass aside, and collapses into his chair.
His head sinks to his hands, and he holds himself without the tenderness he so wishes he could have from others. Tenderness he would never dare ask for, tenderness he knew he didn't deserve.
For God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten son...
The thought trails off in bitterness and acidic memory. Arrogant, perhaps, to compare himself to the divine, but he can't help it.
How sharper than a serpent's tooth is an ungrateful child.
His voice breaks, cracks across two syllables. The pain of a throat too long parched with days in the desert with no water, no hope, no love.
"Connor."
He used to wonder once; how long must he suffer? How many good deeds must he commit before he is redeemed? And now he knows that redemption was only a dream. A pipe dream given with the best of intentions, but a dream nonetheless. He killed his only son--no matter that it was for a better life, no matter that his son might be happier where he is now. He gave up. Threw in the towel. He didn't ask for permission, didn't give thought for what he might bring upon himself and others. He had simply seen an opportunity and taken it. It had seemed all he could do... and yet he cannot reconcile the implications.
When things get too tough, go to a higher power. Play between the lines, find your way around the rules. Do anything, so long as you think you might make him happy. Rules, laws, love. It all goes out the window when it comes to him. But is he happy? Is he truly happy? Or does he simply think he is, given the memories and life you pre-arranged for him?
Anyone could be happy, if they didn't know the truth.
And sometimes, Angel thinks he did a great thing by sparing his son the truth. Sometimes.
It's the coldest comfort he can imagine.