Angel/Angelus (shanshu_angel) wrote in not_fading_away,
Angel/Angelus
shanshu_angel
not_fading_away

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Recovery.

The dragon in the alley had sent me flying at like a hundred miles per hour into my own hotel and I had crashed through it, my powerful arms going out to protect my head from the impact, not enough to knock my marbles around, knock me unconscious and make me incoherent.

On my way to hitting the Hyperion's brick, I had seen the fruits of my plan. The fruits of my plan of taking out the Circle of the Black Thorn and crippling the Senior Partners on Earth for quite some time had created a demon free for all below. There was no way that Spike, Gunn or Illyria would survive and Wesley was already dead. The fruits of my labor had unleashed hell upon Earth. It was a hell that could possibly be controlled by slayers. It wasn't an impossible amount of demons to control for them; I had killed probably fifty and the dragon before going airborne, but that was secondary. The fact that the world wasn't going to end was a sidebar. I had killed my team, my friends, and the people that I cared about almost more then anyone else in the world. I had doubtlessly sent thousands if not tens or hundreds of thousands of humans to their painful deaths at the hands of the demons that Spike, Gunn and Illyria wouldn't be able to stop, especially without me.

I guess as my hotel closed in on me, or more to the point, that I closed in on it, I welcomed the certain pain that was going to come, and possible beaheading, or broken neck leaving me paralyzed for months. My subconscious kept working. I didn't know if I was dead, or paralyzed, but I knew that i could feel the guilt more poignantly then ever before, including when I had first gotten the soul stuck back into me by the Romani.

Then, I could feel powerful, and slayer blood going through me, and needingly, although with guilt, took it from her wrist. I knew the blood well. I had smelled it before. I had it on me before from fighting with her. It was the blood of Faith. Faith was here. I was alive. I could feel, and I could move. I could smell two of the most familiar scents to me; one was very welcome, one was a pain in my ass, but it proved that Buffy was here along with Faith and that Spike had survived the war. There was a chance now, that Giles had gotten wind of my plan, and that scores of slayers had come to wipe out the demons brought forward because of my actions.

There was no way that Spike could have survived down there if that wasn't the case, and as I tried to speak, but my brain wouldn't let me, except to tell Buffy that the demons were all my fault, and as I felt myself being placed on the couch in the lobby, that beautifully familiar couch that I missed, and heard Buffy tell me to shush, and to not speak right now, I felt that maybe this wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be before I hit the building. Maybe my guilt didn't have to paralyze me like my injuries felt like they were doing? I couldn't bring Gunn or Wesley back, and that would forever haunt me, and I had lost Cordelia and Fred, because of Wolfram and Hart, but maybe, just maybe Giles knew that I was trying to end the evil now and that was why Buffy and Faith were here?

Buffy still held me close and I opened my eyes, focusing in on her, as I moved forward a little and coughed blood onto my jacket, that was already ruined anyway. My head throbbed and I coughed again and I could tell that Buffy wanted me to be still, but there was too much that I wanted to know.

"Gunn, is Gunn okay? Where is Gunn? Did you guys catch wind of our plans to bring down Wolfram and Hart, and did Giles send you here to help and that's why you are here? Are all of the demons dead? Did I kill the dragon? Where are Gunn and Illyria?"

Buffy put here finger to my mouth and I saw Spike shaking his head, looking beaten, but still alive. The adrenaline of me needing to know faded as Spike shook his head, and I knew that none of this was good. I felt weak again, and battered. My ribs screamed from leaning forward and my head felt like it was being pressed between vice grips.

"All of this is my fault," I said, laying my head back down as Buffy cradled my neck, my arm flying around her shoulder, needing to slump.

[Spike, Faith and Buffy]
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