Disclaimer: The characters of the show "Angel" were created by Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. No profit is being made.
By Dawn Nyberg
Family – that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape – Dodie Smith
Angel looked at the approaching horde of demons unleashed by Wolfram and Hart raised his sword in the rain, "Let's go to work." That was his last memory. He drifted in darkness his world filled with images of the past he saw Cordy, and Doyle he was remembering his first early month's in Los Angeles. He watched Doyle die again. He felt the loss all over. His life recalled itself in flashes stopping and pausing. He saw the hotel again. Cordy, Fred, Gunn, Wes, and Lorne. He felt happiness for a moment. He watched their battles again, removed, but not so much he couldn't remember the fear he felt for his friends going into battle.
Darla, her face filled his thoughts and their child. He watched his son disappear with Holtz, and the pain ripped at his soul. Life flashed forward and he saw Jasmine, and just as quickly as he saw her he found himself standing in the sporting goods store as he watched his tormented son recount his pain. His life flashed again and he found himself standing among trees in the dark looking in at a family – the family he had provided for his son, so that he might know a normal life, and forget his pain, far too much for his young life. He gave up his only child, so that he would know love, safety, and most of all peace.
He suddenly watched his time at Wolfram and Hart play before him. He heard the phone call again, the words telling him Cordy had died. He relived the loss of Fred. Things flashed forward again, and he sat among the members of The Black Thorn, he felt the bloodlust in him to destroy them all. He watched his son stand beside him and fight, and telling him to leave. He fought to stay in that moment just a little longer, but it slipped away, like a fog receding into the daylight. And, now he was back to the moment his darkness came – the alley, the rain, the final battle, and darkness, complete and absolute.
He felt himself pulled from the darkness slowly, as if pulled from a deep sleep. He heard familiar noises, a chirping bird, rustling trees. He felt softness below him, a bed, maybe. He struggled to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was a wood beamed ceiling. He moved his head slowly toward the noise that had slipped into his darkness – he saw a window framed by curtains gently moving in a soft breeze. He saw glimpses of a blue sky and trees through the moving curtains. He felt discomfort and noted his left shoulder was bandaged. He moved slightly and felt his ribs protest at the movement. He glanced down slowly and saw his ribs were wrapped in a bandage. He felt a strong breeze brush across the skin of his chest and it felt comforting. He heard other noises, as well. His head turned toward them. He saw wooden bedroom door closed and noises similar to dishes being washed was coming from the other side. He felt warmness on his left hand, and glanced idly at it. A beam of sunlight had found its way through the curtains to land on him, he thought to instinctively pull it away, but hesitated, there was no pain, no burning. Angel felt compelled to watch the world outside, as it fluttered in and out of focus through the curtains. He was tired, and he felt the darkness pulling at him again. He heard the sound of the wooden door clicking open and footsteps toward the bed, "You're awake."
The voice was familiar, and he turned his head toward it. His eyes fought to focus on the figure standing over him, and just as the darkness began to pull him down toward sleep the figure came into focus. And just before his eyes closed in sleep – one word escaped between his lips, "Connor."
To be continued??