Story Notes: This is short, bittersweet, and hopefully finished. ;) I never can quite tell if I’ll finish something or not. There’s a rough Angel/Darla pairing, but it's pretty vague so do with it as you like. Angel POV. Depressing, I’m sure, but then, that's life.
Summary: Post-AtS - a darker turn on Angel's view of the world.
Feedback: Yes! Feed the author, please! Critique/Comments/Enjoyment is greatly appreciated, honestly, just drop me a line! Goddess_Delenn@yahoo.com
Distribution: My site, BFW. Everyone else has to ask, all you have to do is click the above link and tell me you want it, I guarantee I’ll say yes, you just have to ask first!
Warnings: Sex/Language/Violence: not really
Rating: PG-13 cause it’s angsty.
Date Started/Finished: December 11, 2005
Going to Hell
By Delenn
The world is going to hell. And I don’t care. I just don’t.
I mean, why should I? I’m already going… why shouldn’t they join me, when they seem so determined? I got tired of fighting their battles and fighting them, for them.
I got tired of none of them understanding and of wondering when they were going to learn.
Tired of paying for crimes I can never atone for and suffering, saving people who didn’t understand and never would. Who were going to go out the next night and do something just as destructive as they did the last.
Mostly, I got tired of being alone.
Of watching friends die. Until they lost belief, and I was the only one left. Not because I believed – because it had to have meaning, or all those lives, all those years would amount to nothing.
The nothingness, at least, is quiet. I’ve put in mental earplugs, and I can’t hear them anymore. Not that they’ve gone away – they never go away – but so that I can forget.
It’s like an elaborate game of pretend, and she knows that, of course. She always knows. But she stays quiet, so that we can rest.
The world is going to hell, and I’m letting it.
Instead of being out there, championing against the darkness that I know, I know will win in the end, she goes out. And when she brings me food, I don’t ask where it came from. And when she goes out, she doesn’t invite me to come.
It’s easier than fighting. With her. With them. With myself.
They can fight their own battles, for once. I already know where I’ll end up – with her – and if they choose to come with us, so be it. I can’t stop it. Can’t save them.
I’m done trying.
Please e-mail the author of this story with your comments. goddess_delenn@yahoo.com
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