"Like I was hit by a bus. Or kicked by a dinosaur. Feels about the same."
Funny thing about having actually been hit by a bus before: you're able to legitimately compare that to being kicked by some demonsarus rex. It sure didn't feel funny, though, and that chuckle that ripped through him didn't do him any favors. He was sore — rested for once, but sore. At least he was no longer bleeding through his bandages. Buffy's stitching up did the trick.
He sits on the edge of the bed, runs a hand through mussed, ungelled hair. Might as well address the elephant in the room.
"It's a punishment. Not a gift, not something I rightfully won or earned, but a demotion. I riled up some of the biggest bads out there by taking out their apocalypse task force." Angel sighed, looked down at his feet. "I joined Wolfram & Hart for reasons... It's a powerful weapon, I intended to not only redirect their resources for good, but also to take the damn thing down from the inside-out." He looked back up at her then, something hot and intense in his gaze. "I did it. I pulled the rug out from under the feet of the Senior Partners, but I lost people along the way. Fred, Wes, and Gunn. Doyle."
His gaze dropped again, mouth slanted into a thin, unhappy line. "Cordy."
A breath— "After I did it, they retaliated almost immediately by dropping all of Los Angeles into hell. You can't see it." Or couldn't. Wouldn't? He's sketchy on how time is supposed to play into this, being well acquainted with how that tends to work in these situations. "To the outside world, LA looks like its carrying on as usual. Inside? There's nothing. A void where a city used to be. They're in hell. All of them. The Partners made me human to make it harder for me to fight back and they damned all of them along with me. And you know what the bitch is?"
He laughed again, his side protesting. "I'd do it all over again."
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Funny thing about having actually been hit by a bus before: you're able to legitimately compare that to being kicked by some demonsarus rex. It sure didn't feel funny, though, and that chuckle that ripped through him didn't do him any favors. He was sore — rested for once, but sore. At least he was no longer bleeding through his bandages. Buffy's stitching up did the trick.
He sits on the edge of the bed, runs a hand through mussed, ungelled hair. Might as well address the elephant in the room.
"It's a punishment. Not a gift, not something I rightfully won or earned, but a demotion. I riled up some of the biggest bads out there by taking out their apocalypse task force." Angel sighed, looked down at his feet. "I joined Wolfram & Hart for reasons... It's a powerful weapon, I intended to not only redirect their resources for good, but also to take the damn thing down from the inside-out." He looked back up at her then, something hot and intense in his gaze. "I did it. I pulled the rug out from under the feet of the Senior Partners, but I lost people along the way. Fred, Wes, and Gunn. Doyle."
His gaze dropped again, mouth slanted into a thin, unhappy line. "Cordy."
A breath— "After I did it, they retaliated almost immediately by dropping all of Los Angeles into hell. You can't see it." Or couldn't. Wouldn't? He's sketchy on how time is supposed to play into this, being well acquainted with how that tends to work in these situations. "To the outside world, LA looks like its carrying on as usual. Inside? There's nothing. A void where a city used to be. They're in hell. All of them. The Partners made me human to make it harder for me to fight back and they damned all of them along with me. And you know what the bitch is?"
He laughed again, his side protesting. "I'd do it all over again."