Angel's Bath Towel, Fanfiction of the Month Award, March 2002
All or Nothing Awards, Best NC-17 Rated Fanfic, June 2002
All or Nothing Awards, Best Buffy/Angel Fanfic, June 2002
DEDICATION: Thank you Peygan! This one's for you baby!
he left home today and said he ain't coming back again
Buffy sat on the roof outside her window absently rubbing the newly healed scar. The skin there itched as it struggled to heal and forced her fingers to land on it several times a day. Her body was confused. Slayer healing wanted to erase the mark just as it had when the Master bit her, but true love wouldn't allow itself to be removed from her skin, from her heart or from her torn soul.
Her body was struggling with another predicament as well - it could no longer sense Angel. All of her being reached out for him as if he were a severed limb. Even the thousands of tiny follicles of skin reached out for the emotional bond of her soul mate and was left with the tingling sensation of an amputee. Just as a person still feels their missing appendage and finds themselves in denial of its loss, Buffy's soul reached for what was no longer there and when it came back empty, it went out again in an attempt to retrieve what it couldn't find.
Angel had been gone two weeks and three days, all of which had been filled with memories and thoughts of how things could have been changed. She thought back on what he had said, what his reasons were for leaving her and although they all made sense, she came back with one reason and one reason only that they couldn't be together - his soul. Buffy knew for certain if his soul could be bound, they could be reunited. She was sure she would be able to convince him to forget the rest of his reasons.
Before she even realized her body was moving, she slid down and jumped off the edge of the roof, landing soundlessly on the firm ground. Proactivation was the key to her future. Shadowed thoughts of spending the rest of her life without Angel sent her feet moving faster across the town's sleepy demonic streets.
you could tell by the sound and the tone in his voice that his heart was slowly dying.
Angel had killed three vampires and one very confused flesh eating demon, before he headed back home to his dank little apartment in the basement of a dusty building. He unloaded his weapons, pulled stakes out of their hiding places and slipped out of his shirt before he settled back in his arm chair with a drink to resume his brooding.
Only one phrase seemed to sum up the last two weeks and three days without The Slayer in his life - It fucking sucked. He thought it'd been hard to break her heart. He thought it'd been difficult to live in Sunnydale and stay away from her. Hell, he thought it'd been tough to help her in the end, seeing her every day and not being to touch her. But this, this was far more agonizing than any day he had spent on The Hellmouth. This was torture and every day it dug deeper, tearing another slice out of the person he had become away from her.
Every day he struggled not to run back to her and every day he knew it was too late - every day it was a little too later. Immortality had always seemed like a suffocating noose around his neck, but without Buffy, he wasn't sure that he even wanted to earn the redemption he used to crave. His soul was released in happiness with her and it was dying without her.
give me one thing that I can hold on to.
Giles woke up to a rustling noise in his house and he grabbed a small axe from his closet before slipping into his robe and cautiously descending the stairs. The rustling didn't stop with his movements and fear began to creep around in his racing mind as he took each step. At the bottom of the stairs, sat his charge surrounded by newly opened boxes of books from the recently destroyed library.
"Buffy," Giles said, setting his axe down on the table next to the telephone, "What are you doing?"
"There's got to be a way to anchor his soul," she said, not bothering to look up from the pages she was flipping through. Giles watched as she rapidly leafed through pages until she reached the end and tossed the book on top of a large pile with exasperation.
"Where the hell is the Gypsy curse book? Romany torture 101?"
"I don't think I have that volume," he said, smiling gently and perching on the arm of his couch.
"There has to be a way, Giles," Buffy said, "There's always a loophole. Haven't we learned that after all these years?"
"Perhaps," Giles said nodding, with sorrow in his eyes. It had taken a long time for Jenny to decipher her own people's curse so that they could restore his soul. What were the chances that they would find knowledge to alter the curse so that the happiness clause no longer existed?
"Perhaps," Buffy mocked, "Please Giles. Don't be so Watcherly. You've gotta help me."
"Okay, Buffy," Giles said, looking down at her, "But you may have to except that there might not be a way to alter the curse."
"Nope. Sorry. That's not in the program. I'm not going to live the rest of my life missing him and trying not to unleash Angelus on the world. There's a way. And I'm gonna find it."
baby, she left me, said she ain't coming back around.
Angel didn't feel the glass fall from his hand or hear the dull sound of it bouncing on the Persian rug as he fell asleep in his chair. The last thing he wanted was to fall asleep and go back to those dreams. Lately every time he closed his eyes and allowed himself rest, he fell into a confusing world of violence and sex and Buffy. Tonight was no exception.
His dream shimmered into place and he was back in Sunnydale. His body hummed with the feel of her and the joy of her nearness. He was walking with long, confident strides toward The Bronze, where she was in some of his dreams. Sometimes he walked toward her house. Sometimes he went to mansion. But he was always walking in a fevered, anxious gait, trying to get to her before the dream slipped away into the next phase of REM and he was forced to dream of something less appealing.
Tonight she was at The Bronze. She was wearing what she always wore - those blue satin pajamas that she had worn the last time she visited his dreams. No one in the club seemed to notice she was wearing sleeping attire but they all noticed her. She glowed, surrounded by an inhuman light that toasted the air and caused heat waves to form around her. The flourishes were visible to even human sight like the air a foot from the asphalt on exceptionally hot days.
He blended into the shadows to watch her move with music that his dream mind could not hear. He looked on as the silk shifted over her skin, giving him a glimpse of a curve here and a shadow of a bend there. Boys in the club, who could hear the music, swarmed around her, dancing close but were unable to reach her through the waves that streamed off her body. They inched up to the edge of her blockade, needing to touch the soul inside it but could not quite get their skin against hers.
Angel watched with growing jealousy as the men responded to her, aching to touch her. He moved away from the shadows and entered her circle. His cold hands eased through her boundary, blending his cold body with the heat of hers. The swells slipped into him, disappearing inside his undead flesh. She sighed with relief as her demon salved the burn.
"Angel," she said, speaking into his eyes with unmoving lips, "I've been waiting."
"I'm here, love," he returned, his lips still with his words as well.
"Will you stay?" She asked, looking into his eyes. Her eyes were misty green as if covered with a dense fog.
"Yes," he promised as he watched the breeze carry her overcast eyes back to shore.
"I was burning," she explained, "The air couldn't breathe me."
"I know," he said as the club melted into the graveyard, "That's why I came back."
They walked side by side, holding hands through one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries. Even though this cemetery wasn't familiar to him, he knew it was a doorway to The Hellmouth, an alternate route to the dimensions below.
"We aren't safe," he said, pulling her back from her next step. Her clothes melted from her body, streaming away in blue silk rivers as he pulled her back. The silky streams funneled over the grass and disappeared in the black earth beneath her feet.
"But we have to keep going," she whispered unaware of her own nakedness. She pulled him forward and as the toe of his boot touched the place where her clothes had dissolved, his liquified as well, chasing after her streams.
"No, we can't go any further," he said, nodding ahead of them, "the future dies there."
"We can't go back," she said, nodding behind him in a mirrored gesture, "the road disappeared."
"Buffy," Angel said, moving his lips for the first time since his arrival by her side. He moved his hands over her body at the same time, tracing her curves with delicate worshipful strokes.
"I'll die if we stand still, Angel," she whispered, moving against his hard body.
"I know, baby," he whispered. But his whisper got caught in his throat as her eyes began to swirl with flecks of gold that emptied from her eyes and changed her face to his ultimate fear. An involuntary growl shook through his body and his face changed as well as he looked down at her.
"Who did this to you?" he demanded, with narrowed eyes and bared fangs.
"You did, lover," she answered.
Buffy sat up in her pile of books and screamed as she woke up. Her throaty howl caused Giles to jerk awake and lift his head from his desk to look over at a terrified little girl.
"Buffy," Giles said, rising to his feet and hurrying to her side, "Are you okay?"
"Nightmare," she said, accepting Giles' hand and pulling herself to her feet.
"Prophetic?" He asked.
"Maybe," she said, shaking the daze away, "I don't know."
"Angel killed me," she said with a shiver.
"I certainly hope it wasn't a portent," he said, pulling his glasses off his face to clean them.
"I think it was a warning," she said, sitting down on the couch and looking down at the pile of books.
"Perhaps Angel was right to leave," Giles said softly, "This research project may be a mistake."
"No," Buffy said, shaking her head in disagreement, "I think it was telling me that I will die without him. He didn't know he killed me in the dream, Giles, but I knew he did. I'm dying without him and he's dying without me. That's what the dream meant. It was telling me that I have to find a way.
for your bleeding conscience i weep
Xander shut the rusty door of his car and crept around the busy corner in Los Angeles, as if someone would recognize him or ask him what he was doing there. The nondescript black bag hanging from his shoulder wascinched against his hip by his hand to keep it from moving or shifting.
The back door was easy to find and the towering butcher was leaning against it, blowing bluish gray smoke rings out into the breeze. He watched them float away before turning his attention on the nervous young man in front of him.
"You Xander?" he grunted in a gravely voice.
"Yeah," Xander said, nodding and pausing to look around him. The man nodded with an abrupt tip of his head and held his beefy hand out for the bag. Xander reluctantly handed the bag over with a frown creasing his face. The butcher took the bag and didn't bother to look around him before unzipping it and peering inside.
"That's two pints," Xander said, leaning in to whisper, "and the cash we agreed on."
"Alright," the man answered and turned to leave.
"Wait. You're sure you know which vampire to give that to? We can't have you giving that blood to just any pale guy who walks in here."
"I got it, kid," the man said with annoyance, "I know who Angel is. He comes here every damn week."
"And you're going to put that in equal parts in two weeks of his supply, right?"
"Yeah, kid," he said, turning to walk away, "I'm not fuckin' stupid."
Xander watched the man's back retreating and the bag hanging a lot less carefully from his hand. He crept back around the corner and practically dove into his car. The engine turned over after three petrified attempts and he pulled away from the curb, heading for the quickest route out of the city of angels and out of California.
it fall from your tongue without warning
Willow had to wait for three full days for the full moon to show her face and was rewarded with a clear night. The moon seemed to have kept a section of the sun this month and she danced in the sky, casting her stolen light so brightly that the little witch was almost afraid to look at her directly. The enchantress was brilliant and laughing, making Willow a slave.
After taking a few moments to gather her breath and find her focus, Willow sprinkled salt around her in a three foot diameter, cleansing her casting space, deep in the woods. In a deliberate, dramatic motion, she lowered herself to the ground. Hushed Latin words brushed her lips as she began moving her arms out around her, forming a circle of a faint purple light.
A curtain of magick fell around the small area of the woods and reached out, shaving bark off the trees, leaving black charred marks behind, as her usually timid voice became strong and clear. The Latin she had spent the afternoon memorizing caused the night to halt its whispers, conditioned the grass, told stories to squirrels of story book kings and filled a small gap the size of a nibble inside two soul mates that could unlearn the past and silhouette the future.
how much will have to burn before we will look to the past to learn.
Buffy stood at the edge of Restfield Cemetery, feeling far from rested. She rubbed her neck absently as she waited for her friend to appear and wondered why she couldn't just meet her in the woods. After ten minutes, she began to worry. Although Willow was becoming quite a strong Wicca, she still was alone in the woods in the middle of the night with a full moon in Sunnydale. There wasn't a less safe time to be by yourself in this town.
The only thing that kept The Slayer from leaving the rendevous spot was her promise to Willow and the threat from the witch that if she showed up during the ritual, it would ruin the whole thing. Another ten minutes straggled slowly behind the first and finally she appeared, walking dreamily through the soft grass.
"Will!" Buffy shouted, breaking the mood and the dream state, "Did it work?"
"I think so," she said, shaking the daze from her head, "It felt strong."
"How long until we know for sure?" Buffy asked, hopping down from the gravestone she had been perched on.
"We can't really know," Willow said with a little fear in her eyes, "until it's too late."
"Well," Buffy said, sighing, "I guess it wouldn't be my life if it were easy, now would it?"
Willow laughed lightly, struggling to regain control of the power that surged through her veins. The gift of power was so strong, she almost felt like she could take flight right there.
"What now?" Buffy asked, scrutinizing her friend.
"One more little spell," Willow answered, "And then we're good until tomorrow."
Together they walked through the night - Willow walked slowly as if she were contemplating every step and Buffy surged forward as if the night were going to escape if they waited another second. She found herself periodically slowing down to let her friend catch up and then forging forward once again.
indeed, i'm alone again.
Angel was trembling by the time he got home. Two weeks with next to no sleep and more blood than he usually drank in four was making his skin chase itself around the room. The dreams were getting worse, invading his mind with cadres of Buffys. Her voices mixed up fine phrases that couldn't be deciphered by the most spiritual of shamans.
The last dreams were enough to keep him awake into the next century. He shuddered when he remembered how her skin kept freezing beneath his fingertips until finally she stopped moving completely. Her eyes were the last to stop movement, frozen in her face, turning blue to match her skin. Her lips were wrapped around his name, a last word of fear. He knew his love couldn't thaw her and it was chipping away those warm places still left in his soul. He was reverting to what he had been without her. He knew it and couldn't think of how to stop it.
The ice in his glass was making a tinkling sound but he could barely hear it over the chattering of his teeth. Scotch, not blood, was in the glass because the blood couldn't make her disappear anymore. The blood was making her reappear in the shadows of poltergeists pretending to be natural. For someone who was alone all the time, he had never felt less free. And it wasn't just Buffy anymore or the gift he had given up in his love, but the loss of the humanity she had given hih - just a slice but it was enough. She had always been more than enough. Even when he couldn't touch her, he felt her. Her essence was that powerful. Somewhere hidden among the emotions that he usually felt were new ones rearing up and raging and trampling. Formidable and demented, the passions were taking over his spirit until finally he couldn't sit still anymore.
i know it won't be long to find myself a resting place in my angel's
Buffy debated with herself as she walked her patrol. She barely allowed herself time to finish speaking before she interrupted herself with another phase of the argument. It was almost as if Angel's shifty emotions were ambushing her mind. If thoughts of Angel were a sentence, she gobbled up the whole line and surprised herself with the hunger left over, with the amount of craving that she felt.
"It's been two weeks," Buffy said to Giles as she stormed in his flat without knocking, "Do we know when it's going to happen?"
"In delicate situations like this, we almost never know the exact timing," Giles said, coming out of the kitchen with a cup of tea.
"Maybe I should go to LA," she said, sitting down, then standing up, then sitting down again.
"There won't be a need for that."
"Why not?" Buffy said, feeling him start to itch inside her. She was fairly certain he wasn't on his way yet and maybe he would be completely insane before his stubborn pride allowed him to exit Los Angeles.
"The spell," Willow said, piping up from the corner, "is designed so that he will come to you. Giles is right, Buffy. This is delicate, especially since we had to tailor more than one spell to pull this off."
"Which is exactly why I'm worried. The time is passed. He should be here. He could be...hurt," she said, more worried that he had hurt himself than an innocent who happened across his path. She'd seen Angel's capacity for insanity and it wasn't pretty.
"You have to wait, Buffy, or it won't work," Willow said, walking over to stand next to Buffy as she restated the plan.
"I'm going out to patrol. I gotta do something," Buffy said, leaving Willow standing there alone, and eagerly walking back outside. The fresh air did nothing for her sanity, but it was better than the double sized concerned looks coming from Willow and Giles.
"You look worried, Giles," Willow said, looking at the closed door.
"I'm utterly terrified that this is going to backfire," he said, staring at the same closed door.
"She knows the risks," Willow said, feeling as if she were the level headed, wiser one today. Well, she did until Giles turned and gave her the look, the one that reminded her of what she was forgetting.
"Not all of them," he said, voicing the look.
"She would be doing it anyway. Even if she knew. Besides the spell won't work if either of them are aware of what's supposed to happen."
"Doesn't make me feel any better," Giles said, settling on the couch with his tea, "I'm supposed to be helping her become a better Slayer and save the world, not put herself in additional danger."
"I don't think you understand why she's doing this," Willow said, sitting on the couch next to him.
"I understand," Giles said, nodding sadly.
"No," Willow said just as sadly, looking down at the stake in her hand, "I don't think you do. Not really."
i hate to remember
Outside, the air strummed against Angel's face and stoked flames into his gait. God, he felt her inside him more clearly today than he had in months or more. She wasn't frozen, she was liquified and safe there in him, tucked inside memories and nostalgia. He wanted to shape the universe into a mold of what he once had. Every woman he saw carried a small piece of her, a small reminder of what was lost, but the pieces were too small. And they began to fragment.
A scream rang out through the alley and he jolted out of his mind to look around for the danger. He couldn't see the woman who made the sound or her attacker, but he knew it was a scream of pain, a howl of torment. He ran down the alley, the sound of his boots thumping against the pavement meshed with the sound of her screams in a rhythmic beat.
The more he ran, the more he realized that he wasn't getting any closer to the danger which threatened her. He picked up the pace, trying to get to her before it was too late, but she just kept screaming and he kept running. Until he met the dead end of the alley which was the red brick wall of a building. That was the moment he realized the screams were inside him.
every moral has a story and every story has an end.
Angel's car would not move fast enough and it forced ferocious roars of anger from his body. When he finally made it to Sunnydale, he had lost his ability to put together coherent sentences and couldn't even think of her name. He knew her though, she was carved out of light inside his darkness.
He could smell her blood as he ran through the cemetery and couldn't stop the snarling that coughed inside and out of his body. He found her, guided to her by his own insanity and scooped her from the ground, while he continued to run. He didn't know where, he just knew that he had to go somewhere else, had to save her. Her body was still warm, even though blood poured out of the wounds in her throat. Even in his basest level of awareness he could sense that she was alive. Her heartbeat was steady inside her chest and he found his feet moving in rhythm with the sound.
a world that is unwhole,
Buffy wasn't bleeding. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't even humming but Angel came running full force at her. She held her breath as he charged, wondering if he was going to knock her flat. Flexing her Slayer mentality, she fought to remain still, to wait and see what he did next. He didn't pause as he scooped her up in his arms and continued running.
A low, constant growl could be heard over the pounding of his feet and she shivered with the tension that was pouring out from his body and into hers. His eyes were wild and crazed, filled with simultaneous fear and anger. His growls got longer and louder as he ran and she wondered where he was headed. Finally, he ducked into a large crypt. She looked around in disbelief as she recognized it. It was the same crypt with access to the tunnels below the city. It was where she first learned his name. Looking at him now, she wasn't sure that he knew his name now.
"Angel," she whispered as he looked over her neck with confusion. He caressed both sides of her neck finding no blood. No wounds. The only mark upon her was the one he recognized as his own. Where was the fucking blood? She was dying godammit. He had been sure of it and now there was nothing there.
"Hurt," he managed to growl out while he ran his hands over her body to find the wound that escaped him.
"No Angel," she said gently, touching the side of his face. He jerked back when she touched him and grabbed her hand examining it, "I'm not hurt, honey."
"Dying," he growled again after long moments.
"No," she said shaking her head. Buffy had been well aware that her blood along with the potion that Willow had prepared would put him a little on the crazy side. Loosening his hold on reality was the only way the other spells would take effect. But Willow said he would be "a little" crazy. Giles used the words "out of sorts."
A little fucking out of sorts? Angel was certifiable right now.
"Angel," she said, moving to stand, but he covered her hips with his large hands, holding her down. He looked her in the eyes and shook his head. He wasn't about to let her move.
"Angel," she repeated and he turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in anger, as if he didn't believe that she wasn't hurt. She was hiding the wound. He could smell the blood. It was there, he just had to find it.
"I'm not hurt."
He growled and she watched as his lips curled back over quickly lengthening fangs. She leaned away from him in fear, but he turned his back on her and faced the door. Two vampires strolled into the crypt and stopped when their eyes landed on Angel and The Slayer.
Angel didn't wait for them to jump to any conclusions. He attacked them. Before Buffy could stand to help, Angel had killed them with his bare hands. She leaned against the wall in amazement as her ex-demon lover dismembered the vampires, ripping off various limbs before rending their heads from their bodies.
"Mine," he growled at their dust before turning back to her.
me, my darling
"Xander," Willow said, looking up from her preparations in Giles' apartment.
"Hey," he said.
"What happened to driving to all 50 states?" Willow asked smiling.
"Yeah, well you should have reminded me about Hawaii," he said, "Shot my whole plan all to hell, besides, I think I'm needed here for Buff's reunion with Dead Boy. You know, in case something happens."
"Nice of you to come back," Giles added, feeling genuinely pleased. Any help they could get right now would be graciously accepted.
"Can I help?" He asked, "I mean I should have a bigger part in this than blood delivery."
"Stinky herbs?" Willow asked, handing him a group of herbs wrapped in twine.
"Nothing better than this smell," Xander said smiling, "Except that smell my car made when my engine fell out. And that was literally."
"How did you get home?" Giles asked, looking up from the rewritten Ritual of Restoration.
"Hitchhiked," he said with a proud smile, "It was either that or work."
"Horrible thought," Giles said with a wry smile, "Having to work for a living."
"So, since I missed stuff, what's going on? Is Angel here?"
"We believe he has arrived," Giles said, looking slightly concerned.
"That's what we wanted, right?" Xander asked, looking at his two wary friends.
"We think so?" Willow said, her sentence coming out in a question that no one answered.
i hear you say that you believe in angels
Angel faced his mate, preparing to resume his search of her body for the escaped wound. Buffy was leaning against the wall in utter shock of the violence she had just seen him perform. He was still growling, still wearing game face and she was fairly certain that he didn't realize it. She looked him over closely and couldn't help but ache for his hands on her body again, even if they were just searching for imaginary wounds. The bestial growling caused a tingling to travel through her body.
Crazy or not, she wanted him. He inhaled her arousal and stepped forward to claim it. He pulled her hips against his, meeting green eyes with golden.
"Mine," he growled again, in case she missed it. He ripped her shirt away and pulled her tongue his mouth, navigating over his fangs while he cupped her breasts. She moaned against his mouth and felt the pool of arousal gathering and growing between her thighs. She pressed against his arousal causing his growl to shift to a groan.
"Mate," he growled as he tore her linen pants away along with her panties and reached between her thighs to touch the heat waiting there. He plunged a finger inside her wet core and she curled against him, gasping for the touch she had ached to feel for so long.
"Angel," she whimpered, pulling off his jacket and ripping away his shirt. He slipped a second finger inside her, rubbing his thumb for her clit in quick, brutal movements as she sucked his nipples into her hot mouth. She fumbled with his belt, finally managing to unbuckle it with her shaking hands and tugged at the button, causing it to fly off and land somewhere in the grave chamber. He pulled his fingers away from her slick heat and she was still whimpering with the loss when he entered her, pressing her against the cold wall.
"Buffy," he growled, remembering his lover's name.
"Yessss," she hissed as he claimed her, pulling her legs around his waist and anchoring her against the stone wall.
you're gonna reap just what you sow
Giles stood at the door looking out in the darkness that would soon fade to day. He was concerned and with very good reason. They had undertaken a dangerous campaign that could have serious consequences that none of them were prepared to face. Willow, in particular, had invoked dark powers that he was positive she wasn't ready for. They had manipulated spells and used them for purposes other than what they were originally intended for. Tonight's expedition in the anchoring of Angel's soul had proven they weren't nearly ready for this. The spell flopped, horribly, creating a small fire on Giles' couch and a much larger concern in his heart.
Angel, who was unaware of his own manipulation, could fare the worst from all this nonsense. Giles knew Buffy had pondered about it and decided that for her and Angel's future, she would risk everything. He also knew that she was concerned about what Angel's response to all this would be when he finally regained his senses...if he did at all.
Love makes you do the wacky.
Now with the darkness preparing to fade and with Willow and Xander asleep on the floor behind him, using priceless books for pillows, he willed his Slayer to come forth with her lover and let him know that everything was going to be okay.
you can need me, well i want you to.
Buffy was not showing her fear, but Angel smelled it all over his mate. Her naked body was resting against his in the dark crypt and her fears were bleeding into his crazed mind, making him more confused than before. The wound he had smelled before was inside her mind and his. He touched her sweaty blonde head, petting her, wanting to get inside there and root out the pain.
"Angel," she said, lifting her head from his cold chest, "We need to go somewhere else. It's almost day."
He looked outside at the darkness, making out rough shapes of trees and graves. He knew the day was approaching. He could smell it just as easily as he spelled her fear and pain. He smooth a hand over her bare back, delighting in the shiver that it caused. He didn't want to find shelter among people who were not his lover. He didn't want to share her with anyone. Settling for a distraction plan, he pulled her further up his chest so he could take advantage of the lips that were asking him to go.
He allowed his hands to move freely over her body as he kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He wanted to lick her from head to toe, to know how she tasted and memorize it. He might not be himself, but he was aware enough to realize that lying there with her was a gift that he did not often receive. He felt her begin to protest and kissed her harder to silence the words, biting at the lips that struggled to move.
"Angel," she whimpered in protest as he reached between her legs to touch her sex, dipping inside her already wet core. She moved against him, feeling his arousal grow against her trembling thigh. She smoothed a shaking hand over his hardening cock and clamped her thighs over his hand as he growled in stimulation.
Feeling a need to dominate his mate, he rolled them over and entered her, before she could protest further and felt her argument die to a moan of pleasure. He nipped at her nipples, biting them hard enough to issue loud groans that tipped just a little past pain back into pleasure and then sucked them just as hard, changing the classification of feeling.
He moved up to her neck and gliding inside his mate, he found his scar on her neck and suckled it. He began to move faster inside her as his gentle sucking became nibbling, which turned to biting. His blunt teeth scraped the mark roughly.
She panted madly as he took her, "Angel...oh, God...please..."
He looked down at her, showing his ridged face, while not pausing in his movements. He licked his lips as he stared at her through crazed golden eyes...wanting, lustful, crazed golden eyes. She knew he was insane. She was well aware that there was no way of knowing whether or not he had the cognizance of mind to stop when he needed to, but she remembered...so well the intimacy of what she felt the last time he fed off her. The feeling of knowing her essence was bleeding into him, becoming a part of him, was amazing. So she nodded at him, issuing her consent and he leaned in without another second of askance, sank in and drank. With her vampire moving inside her and breaking open her skin, The Slayer came.
been up, i've been down
Willow had spent so much time thinking about the spell that it started to fill her dreams whenever she slept, which was not a whole lot lately. So tonight, in her restless sleep, as she entered the crypt where Buffy and Angel were making love, she thought she was dreaming about the spell again. She didn't realize that she was actually there, watching, looking on at the desperate pairing of the forbidden lovers.
She watched as Angel's face reverted to his demon form and was surprised that her friend did not shy away from it but embraced it, seemed aroused by it. She watched Buffy nod her consent and Willow gasped loudly both inside her dream and out as Angel bit in. The shock of the sight jolted her from sleep and she sat up with her audible gasp, causing Giles to turn from his vigil and look at her curiously.
"That's it," she said, standing up and crossing the room for the spell book she had cast aside in disgust earlier when they had set the couch on fire.
"What is it Willow?" Giles asked, looking on with confusion. Xander, meanwhile, murmured in his sleep and turned over, staying fast asleep.
"Buffy's blood," she nearly shouted, wide awake.
"We gave it to Angel," Giles said, "but I don't see..."
"We gave it to him with the potion which created the catalyst for the spell," she started.
"Yes," Giles said, nodding, waiting for the rest.
"The potion for the spell," she said, shaking her head at her own ignorance, "It didn't work because we didn't add her blood to the mix this time too."
me know our love is real
Angel pulled away from her neck and looked at her with wide, pained eyes as his face turned back to human. His body jerked violently and he pulled away, stumbling to the corner. He dry heaved and braced himself against the wall as the pain shot through his body. He opened his mouth to roar in pain but could not make the sound come.
"Angel?" Buffy asked, standing to her wobbly feet and running across the room to him.
He jerked away from her touch as his body moved into more violent tremors. He fell back against the wall and he felt as if his heart were exploding in his chest. She tried to brace him, to keep him from falling and he finally reached out, grabbing her shoulders to steady himself, while staring at the small puncture holes in her neck.
"What's wrong?" She asked, but found no response but the deranged jostling of his body. The Slayer fell into a whirlwind of panic as she helped him into his pants. She donned his shirt, since her clothes were ruined and pulled his arm over her shoulder.
His feet barely moved and Buffy found herself almost dragging her lover across town to Giles' apartment. The trip took longer than expected and when they got there, Buffy found her friends gathered in a sacred circle of candles. The air was filled with an overly thick incense that made her eyes burn and water. She lowered Angel to the couch, where he continued to jerk erratically every few seconds.
"What are you doing to him?" she yelled, breaking the silence of the room, "You're killing him!"
They did not look up from the casting, as the triad of Scoobs - Giles, Willow & Xander, chanted intermittently, separating passages and languages, recreating and mixing spells that had them trapped inside the realm of dimensions. After trying unsuccessfully to break their concentration and the circle, Buffy crawled up on the couch and held Angel close to her heart, gripping onto him as if her tight grip would keep him grounded.
The spell was long, winding through vessels of time, breaching dimensional walls, in search of the lost soul. The air began to crackle as the young witch intoned, her voice rising to a crescendo, while Giles and Xander's voices, murmured in the back ground. Buffy clutched Angel tightly as he shuddered, the shudder rising back to a shake and the shake becoming a humming vibration that she could actually hear.
"Angel," she sobbed, as she held on to him more tightly, digging into his shoulders to keep him, "I'm so sorry."
She finally realized, just at this moment, that it was too late. She ruined her chance, destroyed his life and hers in one selfish swoop of misguided determination. Calling on the forces of darkness to create the life she yearned for was going to destroy the only thing in this miserable world that she ever loved. He was dying in her arms and she had no one to blame but herself.
"Buffy," he groaned, finally making a sound, which brought only a sliver of hope.
"I love you," she said, casting love on him, as if it were a spell, "IloveyouAngel."
She was almost certain that he heard her before the shivering stopped. The vibration stopped. The incense put itself out along with the candles and the room fell dim. The group of Scoobies had all fallen back, breaking the circle and landing with three distinct thuds against the floor. Angel's vibrations had stopped. Everything stopped but the panic, which grew inside Buffy, creating a sucking barrage of desolation.
"Angel!" was the last shout to come from her mouth before she too, fell into the darkness.
on an angel.
Willow, Giles & Xander were the first ones to wake. They hadn't seen or heard the couple come in and so they were surprised to see them on the couch, both half naked and clutching violently to each other. Giles hurried across the room, picked up Buffy's wrist, feeling for a pulse and sighed heavily with relief when he felt one.
"What about Angel?" Willow asked, cocking her head a little as she looked over the vampire.
"Well," Xander said, cocking his head to the side as well, looking at The Slayer's peaking cleavage rather than the unconscious vampire, "since he isn't dust, my guess it that he's still, uh, undead."
"Sound conclusion," Giles said, nodding his head. They continued to stare at the preternatural beings lying intertwined on the couch, burning stares into them that willed them to wake up. Finally, Angel began to stir and he looked over the room, the Slayer he was resting against and the group with confusion.
"What's going on?" he asked. He didn't wait for their answer as he looked over his mate, finding her scar broken open and her body bruised.
"Buffy," he whispered, caressing her shoulder, "Buffy, wake up, love."
a handless clock with numbers an infinite of time.
Buffy laid motionless against the couch, breathing shallowly through her mouth. Angel looked over at the group momentarily and shook her lightly, "Buffy. Come on, baby, wake up."
He glanced up at the group again with eyes narrowed in fear that edged on dangerous anger, "Why isn't she waking up? What the hell is going on?"
He turned back to Buffy, again, not waiting for their answer, "Buffy, wake up. Buffy!"
Her hand finally moved up weakly and she batted him away without touching him.
"No," she murmured, "Angel."
"Buffy," he said, falling into an uneasy state that was somewhere near calm again, "Wake up, baby."
She opened her eyes and smiled drowsily at him, "Did it work?"
"Did what work?"
say if you love somebody than you have got to set them free,
Angel sat in the mansion, barring himself against the couch as he listened to Buffy's drawn out explanation of everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks. He battled between anger and happiness as she spun her tale, filled with emotion and tears.
It was the tears and the love behind her actions, that forced him away from the instinctive irritation he felt towards her putting both of them in serious danger.
"I could have hurt you," he said quietly when she finished, "Anything could have happened."
"I know," she said, nodding her head, "I...just...I can't live without you anymore, Angel. I tried. I really did and every day was darkness without you anyway. How am I supposed to live a normal life in the sun, when I don't want it if I can't be with you?"
"You made me crazy. You drove me insane for this. People could have been hurt. I could have killed you! God, Buffy, you let me feed off you when I wasn't in my right mind!"
She nodded again, feeling as if she had said all she could. He either would forgive or he wouldn't. At least now he could find some happiness. She wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg his mercy.
"I'm sorry, Angel," she said, "I wasn't thinking about anything about being with you. I risked everything because...what's the point without you?"
She looked at him for several moments more, waiting for the forgiveness and understanding to melt into him but all she saw was anger. She searched for the love, it was hidden far below the betrayal he felt.
"I'll go," she said finally, standing and smoothing his shirt against her body, "You need some time."
She stumbled toward the door, feeling tears errupt as she realized he was going to let her walk away. He was going to watch her go and brood, while she tormented herself in his shirt, immersed in his smell and in the memory of being with him again. As she reached the door, she was spun into his arms.
"I'm furious with you right now," he said, holding her tightly against his chest.
"I'm sorry," she muffled against his still bare chest, dropping tears onto his skin, which scalded him as they trailed down his muscular stomach.
"I love you," he said, pulling her in even more snuggly.
"I love you," she whispered back.
He pulled away and looked at her tear stained face and into her blood shot red eyes, "For now on, when you want to torment me and drive me insane, I wanna know about it first."
"Kay," she consented and returned a weak smile. He scooped her into her arms so suddenly that it forced a squeal from her.
"On with the happiness," he said, carrying her to bed.