Still Moving (1/1, Angel)
Jun. 13th, 2010 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunCharacters: Angel, Wesley, Spike
Rating: R
Summary: Even knowing the fall never really happened, he still looks for Wesley’s ghost. Even after he makes his escape, Angel's never really free.
A/N: A bit of an oblique follow-on from my remix Moving On (The Everything Old is New Again Remix) for my bestest beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anxiety_junkie who asked for Angel/Wes. I hope this gets at least close and thanks so much for all you've done for me over the years!
Posted for prompt #36-memory on my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50ficlets table. Feel free to suggest pairings or ideas for the other 49 prompts!
The shower helps. Angel stands motionless under the hot spray, watching the plaster dust and spatters of blood swirl into streaks of pink at his feet before twisting down the drain. He should be luxuriating in his newly regained ability to move, but he can’t.
He’s tired. Also a little concerned about the whole Illyria and Connor mating thing. But mostly just tired.
How many times has he fought this battle now? Him against some unstoppable evil, the lives of his few loved ones at stake, and all he can do is throw them to the demons to forestall an apocalypse for a few goddamned days.
He can hear Spike pacing in the hallway, fingers tapping out a Morse code message of anxiety on his lighter. Angel listens, trying to translate the message. It’s gibberish.
This isn’t the first time he’s tried to dodge an anxious post-battle lecture. It is the first time he’s been successful. The dot dot dash echoes through the hotel hallway, reminding him that he hasn’t escaped yet.
Wes used to do this – trap him somewhere and hammer out his message. Angel closes his eyes, relaxing into the hot water. Even knowing the fall never really happened, he still looks for Wesley’s ghost. Still, perversely, misses the shade of the man he’d come to love and respect.
He pushes forward because he has to, because somebody has to, and he’s the only one with an eternity to keep fighting in. He still has his son, his friends, and Spike. He’s not alone.
The hot water stings as it batters into the tiny cuts on his hands and shoulders. Wesley’s gone. He’s still here. Still fighting.
He thinks Wes would approve.
Rating: R
Summary: Even knowing the fall never really happened, he still looks for Wesley’s ghost. Even after he makes his escape, Angel's never really free.
A/N: A bit of an oblique follow-on from my remix Moving On (The Everything Old is New Again Remix) for my bestest beta
anxiety_junkie who asked for Angel/Wes. I hope this gets at least close and thanks so much for all you've done for me over the years!Posted for prompt #36-memory on my
50ficlets table. Feel free to suggest pairings or ideas for the other 49 prompts!The shower helps. Angel stands motionless under the hot spray, watching the plaster dust and spatters of blood swirl into streaks of pink at his feet before twisting down the drain. He should be luxuriating in his newly regained ability to move, but he can’t.
He’s tired. Also a little concerned about the whole Illyria and Connor mating thing. But mostly just tired.
How many times has he fought this battle now? Him against some unstoppable evil, the lives of his few loved ones at stake, and all he can do is throw them to the demons to forestall an apocalypse for a few goddamned days.
He can hear Spike pacing in the hallway, fingers tapping out a Morse code message of anxiety on his lighter. Angel listens, trying to translate the message. It’s gibberish.
This isn’t the first time he’s tried to dodge an anxious post-battle lecture. It is the first time he’s been successful. The dot dot dash echoes through the hotel hallway, reminding him that he hasn’t escaped yet.
Wes used to do this – trap him somewhere and hammer out his message. Angel closes his eyes, relaxing into the hot water. Even knowing the fall never really happened, he still looks for Wesley’s ghost. Still, perversely, misses the shade of the man he’d come to love and respect.
He pushes forward because he has to, because somebody has to, and he’s the only one with an eternity to keep fighting in. He still has his son, his friends, and Spike. He’s not alone.
The hot water stings as it batters into the tiny cuts on his hands and shoulders. Wesley’s gone. He’s still here. Still fighting.
He thinks Wes would approve.