TITLE: Interstitial Angel Ficlets
AUTHOR: Katriena Knights
RATING: PG13, language
SUMMARY: Bits to go in and around, after, before or during episodes.
NOTES: This is a WIP. I don't normally post WIPs, but I didn't really 
see any other way to do this one, since it'll be going on for a while. 
SPOILERS: This part, Witch.
MORE FIC AND ART AT: http://www.bewellweb.com/dknights/fanfic.html
ARCHIVE: Ask it nicely and it'll follow you anywhere.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just playing.
 
 
 
Lurking around in the sewers and the basement under Sunnydale High 
didn't seem to Angel to be the best way to impress the new Slayer, but 
he supposed it didn't really matter as long as he didn't get caught.  
And when was she ever in the basement or in the sewers, anyway?  Well, 
at least not on off-hunting hours.

He was lurking now because he'd heard Buffy was trying out for 
the cheerleading squad.  And he'd heard that while he'd been lurking 
yesterday.  He was getting to be quite the accomplished lurker.  Soon 
he might even be able to skulk efficiently.  Wouldn't look great on a 
resume, but still a useful skill.
 
He found a vent where he could see into the gymnasium to watch the 
tryouts.  Lots of lovely, nubile girls jumping up and down.  This 
cheerleading thing didn't suck.
 
Where was Buffy?  He didn't see her right away.  He recognized one of 
the other girls, though--tall and sleek and pretty, with long brown 
hair.  He'd seen her with Buffy, but he didn't think they were 
friends.  In fact, he'd gotten just the opposite impression.
 
So pretty, all of them.  Their tinkling, girlish laughter drifted to 
him.  So did their smells.  Soft, musky, woman-smells.  In his day, 
these girls would have already been married and nursing babies.  To 
him, they smelled ripe, ready to take, like sex and blood and a really 
good, belly-warming meal.
 
Times like this, skulking in alleys eating rats seemed more and more 
like a sensible lifestyle choice.  If he stayed here too long, it was 
going to be the donut shop incident all over again, except without the 
bad 70s music.
 
He missed the bad 70s music.  Didn't understand in any way, shape or 
form why people made fun of Barry Manilow.  Manilow was a god, plain 
and simple.

*Can't smile without you, can't something without you I can't laugh 
and I can't sing I'm finding it hard to do anything you know I feel 
sad when you're sad and what the hell comes after that...*
 
Damn, that was a good song.  How could anybody argue with that?  And 
trying to remember the words was keeping his mind off the gorgeous 
girls bouncing up and down just a few yards away from him.
 
There she was.  Buffy.  Golden and beautiful and oh, so 
incomprehensibly young.  He stilled, just watching her.  Her laughter 
came to him and made his eyes water.
 
He wasn't crying.  This was worse.  He was trying to change.  His eyes 
stung and burned as he fought back the demon.  No one could see him 
here, but he'd be damned if he was going to let his baser parts take 
control right now.
 
He sat very still for a long moment, taking in the smells of 
brilliantly beautiful, consummately edible girls, and willed the demon 
back.  He had to have control--if there was one thing he needed 
absolutely to master before he could be any use to the Slayer, it was 
that.

Finally, he won.  But he knew, now, that he was simply too hungry to 
be here right now.  Reluctant, and after one last, long look at Buffy, 
he slipped away.
 
END.