When a tree falls in a forest, yet there’s no one around to hear it. Does it still make a sound?
When a man is dead inside, yet he’s still breathing and having a heartbeat, going through the motions of every day living. Is he still alive?
I had long since given up searching for the answers because I already knew them. At least to the latter.
The answer is no. He isn’t alive. He’s just around because his body refuses do die and had no other choice but to go through the motions. I’m Angel and Spike in reverse. Their body was dead, but their spirit was going strong. My spirit has long since died and withered away, it’s my body that just doesn’t seem to want to die.
And it’s not for lack of trying on my side. No, I wasn’t blatantly suicidal. I am at least willing to admit that I am to much of a coward to try my hand at that. But fighting demons and taking uncharacteristic risks wasn’t the way to go either it would seem.
The buffoon who showed up in Sunnydale nearly a decade ago had died the moment he’d gotten fired. The sniffling man who worships the ground Angel walked on, begging him for just a scrap of attention had taken a bit longer to die. The Wesley that came after didn’t survive long either. Now. Now I don’t even try to be someone. There’s no one left to mold myself to, to please them. There’s no one left to pretend for.
I just am. Much to my regret.
I wonder when it all started? Those constant changes in me. When I was supposed to die? When Fred died, Cordelia, Lilah? Even further, when I had my throat slit and gotten to know the real meaning of the word ‘friend’? Or even longer ago, when Angel fired us, when Faith tortured me, when the council fired me?
When I was born.
It doesn’t matter anymore, since there’s nothing left to change. No spirit dwells in this body, no spark of hope lights this heart, no smile to brighten this life.
I still dream about that night. It always seems to rain whenever my world is about to turn around on its axis. Knowing I was supposed to take on Vail, and knowing I hadn’t enough power by a long shot, I took a risk. Taking a page from Miss Rosenberg’s book, I’d sucked in power. More then I could handle really and if I’d not been inclined to magic before hand I’d have died then and there.
But it worked, worked well enough to fool Vail. He still nearly killed me, with a last desperate dying stab. I’d laid on that cold floor for days it seems. Could’ve been hours, but once the magic had healed my wound enough for me to get up and leave, I knew the fight was over.
Los Angeles was in shambles, dark, dreary and deadly in the rain. I hastened myself to our rendezvous point only to find nothing there. No bodies, no blood, no dust, the rain had cleaned everything away. The only thing it hadn’t been able to wash away was the smell of death. I didn’t know if any of them had survived, I didn’t know if I was alone again.
Something inside me snapped. I ran, ran as fast as I could. I had left my bloodied coat and sweater in the alley. If they, whomever they were, to come looking for me, they’d think I was dead. Hopefully.
I couldn’t go though loosing my whole family again. I just couldn’t. So I ran, like the coward I was. Am. As far away as I could. I ended up in Greece first, then Russia. Taking up my old job as demon hunter, without the rogue this time. It was in the small town of Tzlarbreskja that I read my own obituary in the London Times.
Cold, short and without feeling. It was from my parents and obviously just a formality. There was one from the Council, and one from the Scoobies including Faith, much to my surprise. None from the others though. Angel, Gunn, Lorne, Spike.
I assumed they were dead then. The contemplation to look up some Los Angeles papers and make sure was quickly cast aside. It didn’t matter. I was dead now. To them and the rest of the world I was dead.
Funny how that didn’t feel restful at all. Nor peaceful.
I ate, I slept, I fought demons, sometimes I got paid. Not necessarily in that order.
I also met with informants and weapons merchants. Which was why I was in Paris now. Well, that and the fact that this is where the demon I was hunting had disappeared off to. There was also a dealer here who could help me acquire a new double barreled gun.
Paris. I hated Paris. I hated it with a passion. For one it was to close to England. For a second the people here… Well, they minded their own business, so I guess that’s not really my problem. No, the being so close to England was.
My main goal was to find this demon, get my gun and get the hell out again. Quick as you please so I could slide back into the shadows of some unknown village in some unknown country.
And be unknown myself.
It suited me fine. I was, after all, dead anyway.