Let's see, Buffy pondered gravely, a night of fun with her friends, hmm. "Sounds like a plan," she replied quickly. "Are you going to make it home okay?" She gave Willow a concerned look as the redhead nearly collided with a tree.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said, glaring at the offending form of vegetation. "I'll talk to you later tonight. Bye."
Buffy muttered her good-byes as she watched her friend shuffle drunkenly down the sidewalk. She considered following the hacker for a bit, then decided against it. It was still morning and besides the occasional tree bumping Willow would be fine. What was she going to do then? Her mother, like most of Sunnydale, was most likely either home or on her way there and was probably, as Giles had put it, not a happy woman. She could, of course, check the mansion to see if Angel was there. She weighed the matter carefully, but as always, save once, in the tug of war between Angel and the world the dark vampire came on top.
With a new bounce to her gait the small Slayer made her way to her former lover.
The stench of brimstone assaulted his senses bringing him instinctively to his knees on red-hot stone and burning coal. Terror-filled shivers ran down his spine, he'd been here before, suffered here before, and he knew what to expect. The stone beneath his body grew hotter mingling the reek of smoldering flesh with the horrible brimstone smell.
He heard the shuffle of small feet, smelled the scent of burning flesh that was not his own. His body tensed and his head dropped, his eyes preferring to focus on his own smoldering skin, his mind favoring his own pain over that of the small creature that loomed above him, the creature that was once a human child. A child that he had destroyed in more ways than he could ever hope to atone for.
"You did this to me, Angelus!" Came the near unintelligible hiss. "Look at what you did to me!"
A whimper escaped his lips.
The mansion was dark when she stepped inside, a grim contradiction to the bright day outside. It took her eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness, a moment filled with anxious thoughts. What if he was here? What could she say to him? Should she accuse him of last night's murder? And if he was guilty what could she do about it? Nothing, she concluded. She could do absolutely nothing. She had made a promise she intended to keep, regardless of how difficult he would make it for her to do so.
"Angel?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart drumming a frenzied beat in her ears. I'm being ridiculous, she thought, I've got to get a hold of myself. With a deep breath she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, "Angel?" She called out confidently, deliberately ignoring the way her voice was shaking. The quiet mansion offered no reply. He wasn't here, her shoulders slumped with disappointment. She turned to leave but stopped dead in her tracks as a muffled moan demanded her attention. She held her breath and cocked her head to listen. There were definitely sounds and they were coming from the bedroom.
Throwing dignity to the wind she tiptoed quietly towards the bedroom and with a feather-light touch pushed the heavy wooden door open praying it wouldn't creak.
It creaked.
She froze, mentally cursing all makers of creaky doors, reflecting briefly on their birth, heritage and cleanliness habits. A moment passed and then another, as they generally do. Finally she felt secure enough, and dizzy enough to resume breathing. Slowly she poked her head in through the doorway and once again gave up on breathing.
He slept, and while he slept he truly portrayed the creature after which he had been named. His human mask glowed with ethereal beauty in the scant light that managed to filter through the dark curtains, his pale torso a work of art even the old renaissance masters would have been proud of. She watched his eerily still chest with detached fascination, her eyes roaming her former lover's body with abandon. Her fingers ached to touch him, her lips parting to meet his, to claim him as her own. But he wasn't, not anymore. She pushed back a sniffle as she morbidly came to term with that piece of truth.
Lost in her own self-pity she almost missed the soft whimper that escaped his lips. Her eyes narrowed in thought, under closer inspection he didn't really look all that calm for a man asleep. His eyelids fluttered madly and his fingers clawed lightly at the bedspread. He was having a nightmare and it had obviously been going on for some time as the tangled covers around his waist, victims of an ongoing war, mutely testified.
She considered waking him, saving him from his mind-terrors and dream-monsters, but decided against it. Some battles needed to be fought alone. If things got out of hand, she'd be here. Determined, she sat on the edge of the bed and watched.
There were more now, clinging to him, touching him, demanding he acknowledge them in death, for he never did in life.
"Look at me!" They howled, their fingers clawing at him, grabbing for what was theirs.
Anxiously, the vile taste of terror in his mouth, he tried to pull away preferring the pits of hell to the faces of his victims. They would not let him go, he knew that, although he had to try. In here, in this place where past sins were transformed into present vengeance there would be no escape.
They closed on him, a mass of faces he was responsible for, a sea of people whose life ended at his whim. Most had begged, but he had no mercy for them. Others had tried to bargain, argue, but he had laughed in their faces. Then there were the rare few that had died quietly, those had been a mystery to him. He had always wondered, in a clinically detached sort of way, what they had been thinking in those last few moments of precious life.
And now, those who had screamed, who had begged, who had argued and fought, who had gone gently into that good night, all of them were closing in on him. They moaned and hissed, they clawed at his body as they drew closer bringing the stench of the grave hideously near. He couldn't move, couldn't lift a finger as they swarmed over him, covering him in a horrible blanket of damaged humanity. He could restrain himself no longer and with the claustrophobic strength inherent to all men he screamed like the damned.
She held him in her arms, rocking him like a wounded child, cooing meaningless words comfortingly. Her resolve to leave him to his inner demons had broken during the first few moment of his terrified scream. Immediately she rushed to his side, cradling him as she would an infant. Her hands stroked him gently as she rocked back and forth in response to his trembling body. It felt so good, so right.
She didn't even realize she had been kissing him until he looked up at her with those deep, fathomless eyes.
She immediately jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with shock at what she had just done. "I came by to see how you were," she croaked. He stared at her, his eyes dark and mysterious holding no accusation but no acceptance either. "I brought you some food and more cloths," she motioned towards the floor. His eyes followed the direction she was pointing at then flickered back to her face. "Only I left the bag in the other room," she explained once she realized there was nothing on the floor. Wordlessly he pushed back the covers and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Because I thought that you might be hungry and you might need some fresh cloths. Not that your old ones aren't okay or anything," she babbled as she took in his pale form, nude from the waist up.
He took a step towards her, his body strong and capable. He suddenly reminded her of a big cat out on the prowl. What would that make me? She wondered as she subconsciously took a step back. He moved towards her again and she felt cold sweat begin to drip down her back as her heart beat crazily. She looked up into his eyes and saw a strange fire burning there, a fire at once both alien and familiar. He wanted her, she realized, with a hunger that wasn't quite human. She instinctively stepped back, her body trembling uncontrollably, and collided with the wall.
He looked down at her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall with her unsteady breathing, watching her face glisten with sweaty fear and anticipation. Watching her eyes dart nervously as she thought of a way to escape, savoring the moment before taking that final feline step that trapped her entirely.
"Angel, I," she stuttered, suddenly very aware of his bare chest only a hairsbreadth from her own. She didn't know what she wanted to say, and he never gave her a chance to find out. With a smooth sweep he covered her mouth with his, enjoying the shocked tremors that ran through her body. It took her but a moment to respond. Her lips, hungering for his, parted of their own accord. Her body rejoiced as she felt his tongue slip through, exploring her depths, touching, tasting, savoring her essence. Their kiss deepened as hungry mouths devoured one another, their gentle kiss turning into a battle of wills and passions too strong to be denied.
Shivers ran up and down her spine as his strong hands closed on her slender waist, lifting her without breaking their kiss. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips even as her fingers tangled in his hair, fiercely pulling him even closer.
Hot sweat burned down her body, drenching her as she undulated against him, uncomfortable in her suddenly constricting clothes. She could feel the lust rise in her body like a tidal wave, stronger than she had ever experienced before. She wanted him here and now and be damned everything else. She moaned with sudden loss as he suddenly withdrew his mouth from hers, then gasped with trepidation as his lips locked on her neck.
She froze, her glazed eyes staring unseeing at the far wall as his blunt teeth grazed gently down her neck to the base of her throat. Her back arched wildly as danger sent new shivers down her body and promptly knocked her skull against the wall.
The pain cleared her lust-filled mind just in time to see him tearing through her blouse, his mouth fastening on her lace-covered breast. "Angel," she moaned as her mind clouded over again, "Angel, we can't." She cried out as his lips found her sensitive nipple, "the curse!"
He stopped to look up at her darkly, his deep, passionate eyes mirroring his emotions, "there is no curse," he growled. He could feel the slightest twitches of anger awakening in him, she of all people should have been able to understand.
She looked down into his deep, dark eyes as his words slowly registered in her fog filled mind. If there was no curse there was no soul, if there was no soul there was nothing left but the monster she remembered. Burning sweat turned cold as the icy gauntlet of fear gripped her heart. "What are you?" She choked.
The dark lust in his eyes turned to cold hurt and then to icy anger as he savagely pushed her off him to land unceremoniously on the floor. In a sudden flash of insight she suddenly understood, it all came together with an almost audible click. He's not my Angel anymore, the dark vampiress had said. It's almost like he's everything rolled up into one, her consort told them all. It all came together, the storm, the murder, the power, the corruption and most of all the confusion. She looked up at her lover as she lay crumpled on the floor and her heart shattered as she watched him turn his back to her, close himself from her. It was too late. "Get out," he said quietly, not even bothering to turn back to look at her.
