.Bad Dream. {Cliffton's downfall} .:Prp; for now:. {DF}

[musicaloner7]

This is a sort of story of Cliffton and his decline after Crowley leaving him.
I'm not sure if I will be permitting posting or not. If I am, I'll post it in the title.

When reading this, I would like for you to please listen to Bad Dream by Keane. As that is Cliffy's theme song, and describes his life quite well, and his love for Crowley.

Because apparently, the nice guys always finish last; if they finish at all.

+♪
Why do I have to fly
over every town up and down the line?
I'll die in the clouds above
and you that I defend, I do not love.



I wake up, it's a bad dream,
No one on my side,
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
to be fighting,
guess I'm not the fighting kind.

Where will I meet my fate?
Baby I'm a man, I was born to hate.
And when will I meet my end?
In a better time you could be my friend.

[chorus]
I wake up, it's a bad dream,
No one on my side,
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
to be fighting,
guess I'm not the fighting kind.
Wouldn't mind it
if you were by my side
But you're long gone,
yeah you're long gone now.

Where do we go?
I don't even know,
My strange old face,
And I'm thinking about those days,
And I'm thinking about those days.

I wake up, it's a bad dream,
No one on my side,
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
to be fighting,
guess I'm not the fighting kind.
Wouldn't mind it
if you were by my side
But you're long gone,
yeah you're long gone now. ~♫

 

[musicaloner7]

Why? ...Why...?


That's all that ran through his head, as his graceful legs crossed in a full forced gallop.

Eyes blinded by tears, blurring his sight and compressing his head with the horrible agony that'd been stabbed into his very being, Cliffton felt himself tearing apart.
He couldn't even feel the heave of his lungs dying for oxygen, his throat drying to almost a complete desert, cracking as his mute voice of sorrow carried throughout the very pulse of life. The tree's and plants all bowed to follow his rushing body, grazing along his numb flank.

His heart pumped furiously, his blood coursed madly. His body was on fire, every fiber of his exsistence feeling as if it were being burned alive. Yet his nerves gave no sense of feel to any of the raptures that took hold of his small frame. The pain wasn't there... it was, but only his soul, his tender, sweet, beautiful soul was being murdered right to his core.
He couldn't think, he couldn't see, his ears were ringing with the screams of his heart desperatly crying out... out for what? There was nothing. No one. No one on his side. Crowley had left him. The one he felt the most safest with. The one he had all the faith in the world for... the one he wanted to be at his side always... the one he loved.

Crowley...

He had no where to go. He didn't know where he was going. There was no where to go. The rustle and swish of vegetation slapping past him as he charged aimlessly forward, he finally felt his body shutting down completly.
Legs burning from being over-worked, heart slamming against the feeble ribcage, mind pulsing against his skull, eyes stinging and swollen, mouth and throat dry and cracking, he couldn't take anymore.

Why can't I be good enough? What's wrong with me? ...I tried to fight for you... but... I guess I'm not the fighting kind...

Please... please... let this be a dream... just a bad dream...

I'm so tired... so... tired...

But you're gone... you're so gone... were you even here..? Was it even real...? Where are you...?

Crowley....

Crowley...... my love....


Head lifting to the heavens he shrieked a deathly air-filled cry, his whole body giving it's last beat of life and breath. It's last feeling of emotion and desire. It's last voice...
Toppling to the ground, his body fell in a heap. Legs bedraggled, wings limp, spectacles flown across, he layed there lifelessly.
The rise and fall of his chest was barely visible. Was he even breathing?
...if he was, why?
What was the need to?
His body flinched as if it was giving it's last bits of movement before death. His joints throbbed and groaned, his head pounded helplessly, his throat trickled the metal beads of blood along his palet. But he felt non of it.
Eyes barely open to sharp slits, he could see that butterfly...
That sun painted insect.
Tara...
She hovered over his dishelved vessel, wings flittering calmly. Lowering slowly, she landed along his snout, licking at the salt filled droplets that gathered and beaded along his sleek fur.
The sky... so blue.
Clouds so elegant and majestic. Could they see his pain? His hurt and termoil?
If he could only join them... away from it all. Left to gaze along the world that the circumfronted.
All hope had been sucked out of his bronci's, a weight placed in their place. The buck had no will for anything; his mind completly blank, his body souless.
Only a repeat of their first encounter...
When he was reveiled to the love of his life. The strength he could never have. The reason he kept on.

The day he was saved.

Please... let me wake up... let me wake up... I'll do better... I promise.. I'll fight... I just want you... by my side...

But he was long gone now... he wasn't even there...

 

[musicaloner7]

Why... Why.... Why....?

The word was stuck on loop as the buck layed stationary, between his self and what was to come. How long had it been? Who knew... perhaps a week? maybe a little less... but it felt more like eons...

His stomach had shrunk, and his body became weak. The lack of nutrition didn't seem to effect him in any other way than his slow decay of muscle and reserves. Throat parched and sore, eyes remaining cracked open, watching as life passed him by without a hitch. Nothing changed. Everything kept on going. Everything but him. No matter how much he may have wanted to move, his legs felt weighted by the entire mass of the world. For all he knew, they could have started to become part of the earth below him. The gloss to his beautiful wings had dulled and started to shrivel along with his appetite.
Even if he wanted to go one, he couldn't see the point.
Where would he go? There was nothing to go back to... Nothing.

That day... the day his whole life had changed, even though he was just starting out in life, it had made all the difference. It had become his affinity, his calling, his desire. If only he could be with him, that's all that mattered. That's all he needed.
Even when everyone else was against it, even if he was the only one who stood at the firey bucks side, his heart never strayed for a second.
Ever since that day...

If only I were stronger... if I were beautiful... if I only I was good enough...

The sun was just barely peeling above the canopy, shedding a sliver of light along the few specks of space in the deciduous and conifors. A single ray managed to crawl onto Cliffton's dark pelt, creeping along to the once glistening silver coins that were now tattered and blank. The gloss that once covered them was no longer there, the life completly erased.

The lingering scent of Crowley on his fur, the image of him hard in his mind, as if etched in, was constant and a permanent presence.

Crowley... if he could cry anymore, he would, but his eyes burned from the after math...

Crowley... I need you... how could you...? his everything was gone. Now he was nothing.
A song bird perched above him upon the branches of the looming conifer, twittering a sweet song to the morning life. But Cliffton couldn't hear it. Not even the warmth of the sun's gentle embrace along his thin coat. Or the calm sigh of the wind brushing along his frame.
What was there to feel?
What did it matter?
Tara... she flitted around the stag's head, landing below his swollen eye, delicately licking at the salt that remained from the bucks dried pain.
Eye twitching once, it barely slid down to look at the tiny insect, not a single feeling of his usual awe and admiration for the dainty creature even making it's way to his mind.
His whole being, his mind, and soul was trying to wrap itself over the realization that all he'd worked for, all he wanted was gone.

..how could you..?

He never loved him... it had always been-...

Of course.. how could he have been so foolish. So daft. So idiotic. Crowley's love had been faux. Nonexsistant. It must have all been for show... What a heartless Herla they had to be to do something such as this. Without a care to even tell the one who'd loved you no matter what the case, no matter what you'd done, or what you'd said...

Was he just nothing to him? Just something to toy with and use? Why...? Why did he have to agree to this...? It would have been so much easier to have been given no hope at all than the small light of happiness that was barely even given to him... but then again, that wasn't real either, was it...?