Titled: A Penny for Your Thoughts
Author: Meghan

Email: meghanreviews@hotmail.com

Summary: Hello Mr. Cryptic...

Disclaimer: I would be running thousands of spinoffs going with tons
of yummy BA goodness if I did have any real say.
Distribution: My hosts, my site, my yahoos...

Rating: PG13
Pairing: BA

He'd felt her arrive just a few hours ago, and her presence had
awoken him from a deep slumber. Blinking slowly, he looked up at the
ceiling. The concept was still new, for the past twenty years or so
he'd been living in the streets with no place to call his home. This
was his home. She was his home.

He no longer needed to be alone, but he wouldn't rush her. He heard
the fights for the four months he had stayed in Los Angeles, being
there without being seen. He had been there when she'd cry herself to
sleep, how he wished he could have entered into her room and murmured
soft nothings until she quietly closed her eyes and dreamt.

But he never revealed himself to her, he had only looked into her
world from behind trees and through her bedroom window. It was a
glimpse that he treasured, and now with her arrival into the town
he'd called his resting place for nine months had stirred hidden
longings.

He knew her, but looked forward to becoming so entrenched into her
life that there wouldn't be anything about her that he didn't know.
Her thoughts, or dreams, or wishes. Obsession with a strong demand
for owning what he already thought of as his possession. Her heart.

Sitting, up he threw the crimson silk sheets off of his body and
wandered nude out into his living room. Trouble was stirring in this
town, and boiled beneath his feet. Something was here, and he could
almost bet what it was. Only one time in his existence had he ever
come across anything that could make the ground boil in fear and that
was the Master. An ugly son of a bitch he was too.

He's proof that vampires will age once they out grow their "human
vestiges."

May he never see that day.

A fine shudder tingled up his spine, and with great caution he turned
to look around his apartment located at the basement of the rundown
building he had bought. It served his needs once he had had it
revamped, if you'd pardon that expression.

Thick muted denim blue carpet,  with black leather couches and a
black lacquer coffee table. Ebony furnishings including one antique
bookcase filled with all his favorite first addition books and a few
cheap novels from today's authors that had amused him. Mysteries
mostly, but some philosophy and poets as well.

The walls had a dark material decorating them that shimmered from
black to deep blue. His kitchen was done in black appliances and
being just the basics, a coffee maker, refrigerator, and microwave.
The bathroom held a deep two person tub, of which he knew what he'd
do with eventually if the time became right, a large black and white
tiled shower with two heads, a sink with no mirror above, and a
medicine cabinet to hold his grooming kit.

He scanned his little adobe and saw nothing out of order, but then
something shimmered and he turned to see her… the blonde…

"Hello my boy."

"Darla," he whispered feeling cold.

"I've come to offer you a place among your family again. The Master
wants you to rule by his side for a thousand years. Think of it
Angelus, think of the power and the blood we will taste and cause."

"A generous offer Darla, tell him that, but also tell him I'm not
coming. I'm my own man."

"Vampire you mean."

"Whatever."

"Ah, come now Angelus, let's not be strangers here. Let's us enjoy
the pleasures we both knew of once."

Pulling his jeans up over his hips, he buttoned them before looking
her in the eyes again. As his sire, Darla could demand his respect,
but the bitch had lost it when she turned away from him. Protection,
loyalty, respect, trust- love… she'd pulled away from him, damning
his existence, and he wasn't going to forgive her for that slight.

Strangers be damned, he wanted to dance in her dust, but thought that
was too kind a death for her.

"Chastity never looked good on you my boy."

"Never did on you either."

His words caused her to hiss at him, and suddenly she was attacking
him going for his throat. Shoving her off of him, he kicked out and
landed one to her jaw, snapping her head back. Blood dribbled down
from her lip where she had cut it on her teeth. Rushing at him again,
he waited until she was very close to him before he struck out,
wrapping his hands around her shoulders and neck and spinning her
into his embrace, hopeless, helpless to escape.

"Angel you're hurting me, but oh how that's good."

"Don't enter my place again Darla, you may not like what you'll see."

"But you know how I love the view."

A growl erupted from beneath his belly, traveling through his chest,
and rumbling in his throat. The demon looked out through his brown
eyes and saw an enemy of old. A blonde vampire in need of a lesson,
sire or not, she would know her place.

"I don't need a whore."

"Fuck you."

"You wish, not get out."

He shoved her through the living room and out the door, and just as
he was about to close the door her last taunting remark trailed to
him on a laugh.

"The Master wanted you to be his vessel at the Harvest, I'll tell him
of your desire to wash yourself of him."

Shaking his head, he closed the door and bolted it. He really wished
for once that she'd just go away but the chances of that happening
were the same as his chances to walk out into the sunlight and not
burn. Not very likely now was it?

Walking into his bathroom with the intent to take a shower, he
changed his mind as he passed the spacious tub. He leaned over the
depth of it for the knobs and turned the water on very hot. He wanted
warmth after that cold meeting.

When the water had risen high enough that it would cover his chest,
he turned off the steaming water and slipped in after taking off his
jeans. He needed to bath in holy water to cleanse himself of that
evil wench, but the scars were not worth the price.

Laying there, in the luscious warmth, he bathed in her presence, a
soothing sensation to calm his rattled nerves. Something about this
setup was all wrong. Why would Darla cough up so much information to
him when he's been playing with his cards against his chest and with
no games about which side he was on? Was she planning on forcing him
back into the fold?

As his sire, it was within her rights… but as a vampire without true
master genes, despite her own siring by master blood, she didn't have
the power in which to force him to do her bidding. However, he was a
master vampire, maybe not the Master, but one nonetheless. His years
as Angelus weren't going about exploiting his power and making it
grow, it was more about causing fear. Bloodletting and death.

Not thoughts to think of when it was her first day into this town
that nestled itself over the mouth of hell which he acquired from one
of his journals of a Spanish monk. He could brood about that another
day… this was all for her, she'd see who he'd become from her
influence in his life.

No longer was he a nobody, but a somebody.

Whistler told him he had the choice, but he hadn't seen that choice
before her. It was Elizabeth Anne Summers who gave him the will to
change. To better himself, and that was a feat not one single person
had ever mastered before her.

Drying himself off with a large white fluffy towel, he went about
doing all the necessary nightly rituals that he would have done had
he woken up but ten minutes ago and not ten hours ago. It was nearing
dusk, nearing six o'clock as he brushed his teeth and then his fangs.
Two different sets of teeth required two scrubbings of fluoride.

A quick brushing of his hair before the applied moose and time spent
making it stand out into spikes. Yeah, pathetic wasn't he? He'd seen
all the guys she'd talk to when he lurked around her school before
they all began to brush her off for her `weirdness,' and they had all
worn this hair style. Granted he was taking liberties with it, but
who was he kidding? He wanted her approval on his appearance cause
the last time she saw him he'd been all scruffy homeless bum.

Still wrapped in the white towel, he walked over to his closet and
shuffled through the clothes within. Him worried over his clothes was
a sight. He knew he looked good, but for their first meeting he
wanted to look great… to see her eyes rake over his body and take in
every inch of him… a black silk shirt with a red lining and his
leather pants… if nothing else the pants would get the desired
effects.

He wish he had a reflection now more then ever, to be able to soothe
his fidgety hands through his hair and make sure he didn't mess it
up. He was such a goner. Worse he was already gone. It wasn't a bad
feeling at all, but not knowing her reaction was causing chills to
run over his spine.

How had her first day at school been? Had she met Giles her watcher?
Made any friends? She was worried about that, had cried when her
friends at deserted her at Hemery High. Did the principal make her
feel like she was a delinquent over that gym? She didn't know it, but
he had caused the fire, and she had assumed that she had done it.
Silly girl. Oh for crying out loud he was more worried about her
first day here then she probably was.

That could be a bad sign.

Locking up his apartment to keep away unfriendly visitors… ahem…
cough… Darla… cough… hmm? What? Didn't say anything over here.

Melting into the shadows he followed the pull inside him to her, and
ended up following her down a residential street. He stayed as far
back as he could and not draw attention, tried to quiet the sound of
his feet to nil… but her senses had grown sharper to him since his
time away, he saw her hesitate and look around for him.

When she started walking again he got a clear view of her swaying
hips encased in well fitting black dress pants covered up by a bright
teal jacket with a matching belt. She'd done something to her hair to
pull it out of her eyes, from where he walked he couldn't tell. The
long slender curve of her neck caught his eyes and there wasn't
anything about feeding in them…

At least not that kind of feeding.

Turning the corner he felt the darkness pressing upon him, but still
he was lost in his thoughts. His foot steps slowed, as he waited for
her movement, hadn't she gone down this way? He could smell her
perfume, so she must have.

He'd come to like lilies and raspberry blooms, he didn't know the
actual name of the per-

OOF!

It was over quickly, and he hadn't seen it coming. Her foot was
shoved against his chest, her hands held out in front of her ready to
give him hell, and her blue eyes danced with cold fire. She was
gorgeous.

"I know what you're thinking ma'am but I don't bite."

She looked him deep in the eyes braving a chance that he might roll
her into his thrall. Brave and stupid, but sexy as all get out.
Letting her see in his eyes that he meant her no harm, he stood up
slowly a hand rubbing the crick in his neck.

"Yes there's a problem. Why are you following me?"

Whoops… guess he'd been lost in lala land too long and gave himself
away. Not how he wanted to meet her face to face, but it'll do.

"You know, I'd figured you'd be taller, bigger muscles and all," he
said with a gesture her way, "You're pretty spry though."

"Really," the condescending drip to her voice rolled over his senses,
tingling along his spine.

"What do you want?"

"Same thing as you."

He saw her take in his length from head to toe sizing him up. Anxiety
rushed through him, did he measure up to her standards? He felt her
anger, but he could also smell her lust… he cracked a grin… things
were going very well.

"Okay. What do I want?"

"To dance in their dust, to fight the good fight."

Dropping her hands, she ran one through the loose strands, the rest
stuck behind a clip.

"That's not what I want," she said quieting, her voice sad and dull.

He watched the thoughts race across her eyes; could see them chasing
each other around and around behind her eyes. Touching her sleeve
jacket lightly, he urged her to look at him.

"A penny for your thoughts."

The phrase brought the tears rushing up into her eyes, and mentally
he cursed himself. Fuck me. Oh wait, that was too close to what he
really wanted so scratch that. Damn me for my mouth and its loose
connection to my brain.

"Hey… hey… don't cry… please don't cry…"

"I- I- I- got to go…" she stammered.

"Wait! You have to be ready."

Stiffening her spine, she paused waiting for him to talk.

"Ready for what?"

"The Harvest," he whispered quietly handing her a little black
jeweler's box. He waited watching her open the lid and lift the
silver cross out, staring at it then at him.

"Thank you."

"Wear it, it'll save you."

She nodded not hearing him, sighing softly, he wished he could start
the meeting again as he walked to her and took the chain very
carefully between his fingers and walked behind her to secure the
necklace.

"I'm sorry I upset you, I didn't want our first meeting to go this
way."

"It hurts."

"What does?" he asked alarmed looking over her petite form.

"The heartache, now where's my penny?"

"Inside the cross."

He fell back into the shadows and watched her raise her head
instantly worried and looking around for him, but he stayed in the
shadows and watched her open the small compartment in the back of the
cross and the faceless penny slipped into her hand. Her emotions were
raw, and he hoped she knew from that penny just how precious her
thoughts were.

Maybe he'd have the courage to explain next time they met. Maybe. He
wasn't sure how she would take to him, being what he was, but he'd
have to learn to trust her heart's capacity for love and warmth. He
would soon, but tonight was just a night to say `hello, I'm here, and
I'm waiting for you… when the time is right.'

Wonder if she got that messaged though.