*****

Jesse's dead.

My best friend is dead.

And I killed him.

Darla, the bitch who was Angel's sire, turned him. My best friend became a vampire and tried to kill me. And I staked him.

It hurts. It really hurts so fucking much. Jesse, my childhood friend, my companion, my trusted one, now ashes by my hand.

I know that it was inevitable. I am a Voima. I'll live centuries, millennia. I won't die for natural causes. I knew that some day I would stand at Jesse's grave, bid my farewell to my friend. And now I can't. I am walking along the dark alleys again. I don't know what I am looking for, a vampire, perhaps, to work out my frustration.

I can feel a pair of vampires approaching. They're young, fledglings. A crooked smile appears to my lips as I start the evasive game that will eventually lead to confrontation. I need to kick some ass to get my thoughts out of what happened.

Suddenly, the vampires feel excited, and I realize they've caught another prey. Damn.

I swear and run to the direction of their presence. I pray that I can stop anyone from being killed. I arrive to a dark alley. It stinks. Something is rotting, I'd guess. My heightened sense of smell brings it out not so nicely. I can see the guy the vampires have captured.

Larry. The dumb jock of the football team, the guy who is constantly beating on me and harassing girls. And he's in trouble.

For a moment I feel an urge to let the vampires kill him, just watch how his life essence seeps away and then kill the vampires. I fight against it, and attack one of the vampires, snarling.

A stake slips into my hand from a wrist sheath as I deliver a roundhouse kick into the first vamp's head. He reels from the blow and releases his grip from Larry.

The other vamp, a female, growling, lets Larry go and attacks me. I smile lopsidedly as she charges, and punch her squarely on the throat as I step aside. She chokes and stumbles into her partner. Her back is towards me so I plunge with the stake and she explodes into dust.

The other vampire is more careful now. He is clearly furious for the loss of his partner. He snarls and sends a side kick towards my head. I jump back and turn around, delivering a back kick towards his midsection. I succeed, and he doubles over in pain. I kick him on the head with my other feet, and as he reels backwards and manages to catch his balance, I punch him into gut again. As he gasps unnecessarily I smirk evilly and strike the stake at his undead heart.

I straighten my shoulders and turn to face Larry. His face is pale and his fear rolls of him in waves. He is clearly confused by the dust factor, but even more so y my fighting abilities.

I sigh. Damn, Why it had to be him?

I walk to him and look straight into his eyes. I morph into my true features and draw into the Force to hypnotize him.

"You were attacked," I say. "By two men. You managed to drive them off. You didn't see me. You'll go straight to home now." I release my mental grip and he visibly lurches, as I disappear into the shadows and head towards my home.

Jesse.

My thoughts return to my dead friend, to the fact that I staked him. The fight was too short, too clinical to help. No blood. No serious opposition, No real danger. I sigh as I kick a crumpled can along the street. I just can't help the pain, the feeling of emptiness in me. It feels like a part of me is taken away.

I freeze. A vampire, a powerful one near me, I relax, as I realize who it is. Thorough the darkness, I can feel the guilt and caring, It's Angel.

"Hello, LaVelle," he says as he steps from an alley to the light of the street lamps .I give him a sly smile, and I can feel my body being affected by him. "Hello, Angel," I answer sadly. At least he knows what I am going thorough. After all, he staked Darla. Not for the Slayer. But for me. I feel a twinge of guilt that he had to do it because of me.

~ Flashback ~

The Bronze. The Harvest is going on, and the Slayer is fighting the Vessel on the stage. I am still reeling of the fact that I had to stake Jesse�

Someone bashes me on the head. I stumble forward and turn around to face my attacker, a beautiful, blond woman with the twisted features of a vampire. Darla. The fucking bitch who made Jesse a vampire. I growl at her, and my grip of the stake I'm holding tightens until I feel a splinter imbedding itself on my palm. I don't care.

I realize what she is holding. A Khareesh dagger. A dagger made of gold and cursed by the dark spirits, it's a weapon that is meant to kill a Voima. She attacks me with kick directed towards my head, pulling the dagger back in her right hand. I am unprepared and the kick connects with my chin. My head falls backwards and I stumble back. My teeth click together and I can taste the blood in my mouth from the bite in my tongue.

She follows with another kick to my ribs, and her hand strikes forward towards my heart with the dagger. I fall backwards from the attack and roll on my feet. I deliver a quick kick to her back as I try to calculate my changes of winning.

Damn. Not good. She's old, over four hundred. And I am not even sixteen, and quite inexperienced. She has a weapon that a mere scratch will drain my essence, and that can easily kill me with a few more.

But I have a stake. I have a motivation. She made me kill Jesse. I will kill the bitch.

She is dazed by my kick, but she spins around to face me again and lunges with the blade. I manage to punch her arm and the dagger falls from her hand. She snarls, and grabs me with her other hand. Her grip is strong, she is stronger than I am. But I let my body sag and use my strength to fall on the floor, her on top of me. I pull my knees to my chest and use my legs to propel her over my head. She hits a wall with a sickening crunch, as I scramble up. I realize I've lost the stake I was holding. Oh fuck.

She's up too, and searching for the dagger. She turns her back at me as she lunges to reach the dagger. I swear, and step to tackle her. I manage to crash her on the floor, letting out an oof with the impact. My teeth clatter. Darla growls as I hear her ribs crunch.

Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head. Someone has thrown something on my head. I am distracted, and Darla uses it to her benefit. She spins around and manages to reverse our positions. One of her hands squeezes my throat and I gasp for air. I manage to get my hands around her throat but it is of no use, as she does not breathe.

White sparks fly in front of my eyes, and I see faintly that she is holding the dagger she lost. I am going to die. I can feel my blood pounding in my ears as my true features slip forward. I smirk mockingly. I won�t die without a good struggle. I manage to catch her hand holding the dagger, but it�s no use. She is stronger, and slowly as my vision blurs I can see the dagger getting closer to my chest� Her hand releases my throat and a baffled, pained expression appears to her face. Then she explodes into dust and the dagger drops uselessly to the floor. I gasp for air as my vision swims and I see Angel standing there, holding a stake. A pained expression hold his face, and I can feel his agony. He just staked his sire.

For me.

He reaches his hand as I still gasp, and helps me up. No-one has noticed my fight with Darla, no-one but him. But was it because of me, or because of her?

~ end Flashback ~

I look at him and I can see it is eating him. This night has been bad for both of us. We both killed someone we cared for.

�How is the Slayer?� he asks. He is concerned for that little twat? Well, he is meant to help her�

�Fine. She�s thrilled that she managed to stop the Harvest. And so is her Watcher. �

�Her Watcher is a special case,� he observes.

�Yeah. Ripper was a real bad guy in the past. Went and killed a Slayer, even.� I inform him. Angel quirks an eyebrow and flinches a little. He is surprised by the information, but also reminded of his past. No wonder. After all, he has killed his share of the Slayers.

He looks at me with those brown eyes, and I can feel the fire in his gaze. We are both tired and grieving. We are both looking for comfort. I take a step forward, as does he. Soon we are standing only inches apart. I look into his eyes and see how lonely he is, special among his kind. Then my arms are wrapped around his back and we�re locked in a frantic embrace. My lips search his, and we engage in a kiss. Our tongues, warm and cold, meet and tangle like psychotic eels. I can taste some copper in his mouth, but all rational thought is soon lost by the sensations his skilled lips cause. I moan into his mouth, stopping only when oxygen becomes an issue. I pull back, gasping. I look into his eyes and see the raw need for closeness. I know it reflects from my own eyes as well. I am pressed tightly against him, and can feel his growing arousal against my own.

Without words we continue kissing, desperate to feel each other.

We stumble to the alley, hidden from the sight, our kiss never breaking. My back hits the wall as he crushes me against it, his large, cold body pressed against mine. I moan and tangle my hands into his mahogany hair. The strands feel like silk, my blurred mind notices, as I am swept even deeper into our kiss. His groin rubs against mine and he growls. I can feel his true features coming forward, and I let go of my own.

I am hard, and I can feel the steel hardness of his cock thorough the material separating us. I drop a hand to caress the bulge in his pants, and a strangled moan leaves his throat. Suddenly he drops on his knees, breaking our kiss and releasing his hold of my shoulders. I start to protest, but my harsh words turn into a moan as his hands find the fly of my jeans. With expert hands he frees my aching cock and draws it into his mouth.

Oh God.

This is amazing.

I've never felt anything so good as I am feeling now, that cool mouth wrapped around my cock. His lips and tongue work miracles and in few moments I come like I have never before, crying out his name as he deep-throats me.

He milks me out to the last drop, and tucks my softening cock back into my jeans. He looks up with a sad smile and gets up.

I return his smile. It is time for me to return the favor.

The pavement hits my knees as I drop on my knees, and my hands seek out his hardness. I pull down the zipper, and free his cock from the confines of his boxers.

It's big. His pale erection juts against my face proudly, and tentatively I lick the glistening tip. Mm. Salty. He shudders, as I start to run my tongue all over his shaft, from tip to the nest of dark curls, lapping at his balls, making him groan. I slowly suck the tip into my mouth, running my tongue over the swollen head. I can taste his pre-come, as I start bobbing my head , taking in as much of him as I can.

I hum around his pale cock, deep-throating him. With a final groan he shoots his cold load down my throat as his hands grip my hair.

I smile and start milking him. Slowly his cock softens, and I put it away. I pull his zipper up as I rise to my feet.

With a final, fleeting kiss we part. We know that this was not driven by mere lust or grief, but neither one is ready to speak. That I can feel.

A slow smile spreads over my lips as I tuck my hands into my pockets. I start heading home, and I start to whistle a jaunty little tune.

Oh yeah, things are definitely more interesting now.

*end*