Twelve Steps
Twelve Steps
Wrote this a long time ago. Adding it to my memories/tags.
I feel like some sort of weird pervert.
“Hi, I’m Angel and I’m a bloodaholic. And a murdering fiend, but that’s another group, right?”
It’s right in front of me all the time, no matter where I go. Blood pumping sweetly in juicy veins, lurking just below the surface, the crescendo tantalizing my demon …
Crap, now I’m waxing poetic like a certain blond pain-in-my-ass. If ever there is a reason to dust myself, it’s that.
I’m sighing again. I know because Wesley looks up at with that hopeful understanding, which only makes it worse. Angelus has serious plans for our little watcher if he ever gets out.
“Are you feeling alright, Angel?” he asks, eyes all blue and poodle-y and Angelus lunges within me, screaming.
He’s still staring at me, expectant … oh right! Damned, distracting demon.
“I’m fine. Just hungry.”
He nods and goes back to reading, but then suddenly glances up. “If you need to talk, I’m here for you. You know that, right.”
I swallow and nod. “Yeah, I know.” Christ, he makes it hard to be good.
Back to staring at the wall, which is safer than ogling him, and I force myself to take this redemption thing one day at a time.
Today is the first day of the rest of my unlife.
Wrote this a long time ago. Adding it to my memories/tags.
I feel like some sort of weird pervert.
“Hi, I’m Angel and I’m a bloodaholic. And a murdering fiend, but that’s another group, right?”
It’s right in front of me all the time, no matter where I go. Blood pumping sweetly in juicy veins, lurking just below the surface, the crescendo tantalizing my demon …
Crap, now I’m waxing poetic like a certain blond pain-in-my-ass. If ever there is a reason to dust myself, it’s that.
I’m sighing again. I know because Wesley looks up at with that hopeful understanding, which only makes it worse. Angelus has serious plans for our little watcher if he ever gets out.
“Are you feeling alright, Angel?” he asks, eyes all blue and poodle-y and Angelus lunges within me, screaming.
He’s still staring at me, expectant … oh right! Damned, distracting demon.
“I’m fine. Just hungry.”
He nods and goes back to reading, but then suddenly glances up. “If you need to talk, I’m here for you. You know that, right.”
I swallow and nod. “Yeah, I know.” Christ, he makes it hard to be good.
Back to staring at the wall, which is safer than ogling him, and I force myself to take this redemption thing one day at a time.
Today is the first day of the rest of my unlife.