Angel fic, spoilers for last two episodes
Mar. 13th, 2003 01:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveWesley. Faith. Gen fic.
Watcher
It’s too weird, being back. Being out. She can’t sleep, and she can’t pretend it’s because even though it’s morning and the monsters are mostly indoors she feels like she should be out there fighting. Hunting.
Justifying her escape.
She doesn’t really care about that, though – the justifying, not the hunting. She’s all for going back out and hunting. Since she can’t sleep, anyhow, she might as well.
She isn’t exactly sure what it is that bothers her, leaving her awake when she should be sleeping and healing. It isn’t the Beast, because she’s faced and lost before, and she’s used to ignoring how it feels.
It might just be the fact that she’s out. Earlier she’d noticed that she flinched every time she sees someone in a uniform; she wonders if the chaos in LA will ever get cleaned out enough for anyone to bother looking for her much less find her, but she isn’t really worried. There’s too much chance she will die, and what’s the point of worrying about jail?
She hears him again, from the other room, and she knows exactly why she isn’t sleeping. She thinks briefly about yelling at him over breakfast, after he wakes and she has enough coffee to be able to act like she’s gotten enough rest. She hears him once more and she gets up and walks silently towards the bedroom door.
She hates what he reminds her of, and knows that it isn’t really him that calls up the memories. Being awake is enough for that.
He’s tossing in his bed, and she doesn’t know if she will wake him or if he’ll never notice her from the inside of whatever dream has caught him. She starts to turn to go back to the couch, because there’s no reason for her to be standing here. Then she hears him more clearly, and it’s a soft, desperate sound, and one she’s heard before. The same sound she’s made, herself, both in her dreams and in her nightmares, wide awake.
She walks carefully over to the bed, and sees that she hasn’t disturbed him. Carefully, moving smoothly and quietly and ready to catch his arm if he should wake and attack, she sinks to her knees beside the bed. Reaching out, she lays her hand on his shoulder.
When he doesn’t wake, she stays there, rubbing his shoulder gently, until the dream has gone and he sleeps soundly.
The end
Watcher
It’s too weird, being back. Being out. She can’t sleep, and she can’t pretend it’s because even though it’s morning and the monsters are mostly indoors she feels like she should be out there fighting. Hunting.
Justifying her escape.
She doesn’t really care about that, though – the justifying, not the hunting. She’s all for going back out and hunting. Since she can’t sleep, anyhow, she might as well.
She isn’t exactly sure what it is that bothers her, leaving her awake when she should be sleeping and healing. It isn’t the Beast, because she’s faced and lost before, and she’s used to ignoring how it feels.
It might just be the fact that she’s out. Earlier she’d noticed that she flinched every time she sees someone in a uniform; she wonders if the chaos in LA will ever get cleaned out enough for anyone to bother looking for her much less find her, but she isn’t really worried. There’s too much chance she will die, and what’s the point of worrying about jail?
She hears him again, from the other room, and she knows exactly why she isn’t sleeping. She thinks briefly about yelling at him over breakfast, after he wakes and she has enough coffee to be able to act like she’s gotten enough rest. She hears him once more and she gets up and walks silently towards the bedroom door.
She hates what he reminds her of, and knows that it isn’t really him that calls up the memories. Being awake is enough for that.
He’s tossing in his bed, and she doesn’t know if she will wake him or if he’ll never notice her from the inside of whatever dream has caught him. She starts to turn to go back to the couch, because there’s no reason for her to be standing here. Then she hears him more clearly, and it’s a soft, desperate sound, and one she’s heard before. The same sound she’s made, herself, both in her dreams and in her nightmares, wide awake.
She walks carefully over to the bed, and sees that she hasn’t disturbed him. Carefully, moving smoothly and quietly and ready to catch his arm if he should wake and attack, she sinks to her knees beside the bed. Reaching out, she lays her hand on his shoulder.
When he doesn’t wake, she stays there, rubbing his shoulder gently, until the dream has gone and he sleeps soundly.
The end