"Don't you have a mission to get back to?" Lindsey said.
Angel shrugs. "I'll go back."
"When exactly? Because I don't think you're checking yourself into a monastery just for the weekend."
"When I can face it."
That strikes Lindsey as a little odd. "When you can face what?" he says, thinking about walking into Wolfram & Hart every day. "When you can face the fact that the gods in their heavens chose you to be their very special errand boy? That the road you're on leads straight to the Pearly Gates? Yeah, that's gotta be a cross to bear."
No sooner is it out of his mouth than Lindsey wants to cringe. He's supposed to be supportive, or barring that, silent; also, it just occurred to him that the idea of bearing a cross probably carries some very literal and ugly resonance for vampires.
He glances over at Angel, and Angel's mouth is twisted in a grimace. Lindsey's waiting for Angel to lash out -- but Angel's not mad at him.
"When I can face that they chose me," Angel says. His hand moves up to his neck; Lindsey watches his fist clench around the claddagh ring on the chain. The movement seems instinctive, like a primitive clutching a talisman or a totem of something very dear. "When I can face that they let me have all the agony that comes with a soul but deny me the happiness that's supposed to make up for it. When I can face that they make me promises, that they make bargains with me, and they only keep their word if they feel like it. That they torture my best friend, make her see things so we can stop them, but they pick and choose what to make her see. What they'll let me prevent."
Angel's hand tightens even more around the ring, so hard the metal's got to be cutting into his flesh. He doesn't seem to notice it, just stares out at the water as his face contorts in rage. "When I can face the fact that they asked me to sacrifice the thing I wanted most in this world -- the thing she wanted most in this world -- that they asked me to do it to save her, and I did it, I did it to save her, and then they didn't save her -- they just let her --"
They? She? Lindsey can't quite put this together, but he's pretty damn sure it would be a bad time to interrupt.
"When I can deal with the fact that they don't care, and I can give it all up and it can all mean nothing anyway, and when I can finally just let it go --" Angel rips at the chain, breaking it, and throws the ring with all his might into the ocean. One glint of light against the waves, and it's gone forever.
Lindsey looks at Angel, surprised; Angel is staring after the ring with something that goes beyond horror, beyond regret. If Angel could dive into the ocean right now, spend the next fifty years diving back into the water over and over to find that ring and have any chance of doing so, Lindsey is sure he'd do it. Because he has the sense that Angel threw away something more than just a bit of jewelry, and that Angel knows it too.
But the ocean's too vast for that, and even Angel's life is too short. After a moment, Angel turns to go back inside. Lindsey follows him, and as they lie next to each other that night, Lindsey realizes that Angel is even further away, in his mind, than he was before.
So, after this, he doesn't push.