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 Angelus Unbound: Chapter 6
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Mutant Enemy does. All hail Joss Whedon. Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Angelus/Buffy. Distribution: Sure, just let me know. Feedback: Is always nice. darkrhiannon@aol.com Rating: R for violence and sex. Author's Note: This one has been Jossed into kingdom come by Calvary. But you can still…enter my nightmare… -Rhi Buffy was screaming. Pain ripped through her body like a live thing, tearing at her muscles and shredding nerves until she was certain that she must go insane from the torment. Warm, softly lit clouds gave way abruptly to cold dank dark and she screamed harder, moving hands that felt as though they'd been flayed to pound against the surface too close to her face. She was trapped, confined, and suffocating. She felt it, even as she drew breath to scream again in hopeless, terrified agony. Abruptly, she woke. She opened her eyes, breathing heavily in the close dark. Where? *I'm not in my room. Where's my light? Wait…* The night's happenings flashed through her head. *I'm..."Oh, god, please no!" She reached out her arms, the last word shuddering into a full-out scream as she turned and faced… "Angel?" Her voice trembled uncontrollably as she gazed into the dark brown eyes of her only love. Buffy grabbed at him, shivering and shuddering in his loose embrace as he held her. She cried tremulously, words completely garbled and incoherent as he stroked her hair with one big hand, holding her to him with the other. "Buffy, what is it? Did you have a nightmare?" he asked with concern, stroking her face gently and gazing into her tear-filled eyes. Buffy stared back at him, still sobbing heavily, her breath coming in painful gasps. She was alive. She was with Angel. She wasn't locked under the earth in some horrible coffin. It was all a dream… all a terrible dream. She inched closer to her soul mate, seeking the comfort only he could give her. "Y-yes. I was, I was t-t-rapped, Angel. Trapped in the coffin after they brought me back. I couldn't breathe and there were worms and I couldn't get out and the dirt and the mud were falling in on me when I broke through and I screamed and screamed but no one came. No one helped me." Buffy cringed at the helpless feeling the dream had evoked. It had felt so real. She looked at Angel, stroking his face gently with her hand…her bandaged hand. "My hand? Why are my hands bandaged, Angel?" "Buffy, don't you remember? Did you hit your head or something?" Angel asked, cautiously caressing her head with nimble fingers. "We were fighting the Bringers, you remember that much, right?" he asked, fingers stroking through her soft golden hair. "Yes, I remember. But my hands?" "You were hitting them, punching them. You messed your knuckles up pretty bad. Then you just collapsed. I brought you back here, back to the mansion. I have bandages here, I could take care of you." Buffy was suddenly conscious of her nakedness under the blankets, her nakedness and Angel's. He was shirtless, his taut muscles gleaming in the candlelight. He was so beautiful. Her nipples hardened in reaction and she felt a wave of lust sweep through her. She dropped her gaze. Angelus smirked down at his mate. He could smell her arousal rising on the heated air, smell her and hear her increased pulse as her body reacted to his. It was always thus with them, whether they wished it or no. Their bodies each recognized its mate, recognized and reacted. It had driven him crazy the last time he'd been free, when she'd refused him, rejected him. He'd thought ending the world was the only way to get her out of his head. Now, though, now he had much more important priorities than world ending. He reached out his hand, tracing the top of the blanket that separated him from her lush breasts and he heard her suck in her breath in response. But damn, he was supposed to be soulboy, which meant he couldn't rip the covers away from her and fuck her into the mattress…not yet, anyway. Still his mind drew erotic images of Buffy spread beneath him like some delectable feast of sex and blood for him to gorge himself on and in until she bled and screamed and came on his fingers, in his mouth, on his cock…he drew a quick, unnecessary, breath and shifted uncomfortably in his leather pants. He moved his hand to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "Buffy," he said with his best acting effort, "I'm concerned that you don't remember anything after the fight. I think perhaps you should sleep a bit more, to make sure that you're all right." Buffy shivered, "NO! I mean, no, I'm really not tired right now and, the dream…I mean, I should probably check in with Giles and the others, see how they're doing. The First hasn't actually attacked them in force yet, and I want to keep it that way." "Perhaps the best thing to do is to send them out of town, Buffy. Don't you think they might be safer away from the Hellmouth?" Angel said gently. Buffy nodded her head. "Yes, that's probably the best, is there room for them in your hotel? They could go to…" "NO! I mean, not right now, Buffy. You didn't ask, but we've been going through our own apocalypse and it's still kind of a mess there. I wouldn't want them to get caught up in that," Angelus replied, just thinking of the reception the watcher the witch and the wastrel might receive from his erstwhile crew. Not to mention having all the damned slayers-in-training and that irritating little sister mucking about on his property. "Oh, um, ok," Buffy said in a small voice. Angel really didn't seem to want any connections between their two lives. Still. *Well, he did tell you he didn't want his life to be with you, stupid,* her internal critic hissed at her. *Why would that change just because he decided to help you out of pity?* "I'll bring you the phone, Buffy, just wait here," Angel gazed down at her, his expression remote and she felt sadness wash over her once again. The connection she'd always felt between them, that soul-deep certainty that they were somehow more than just lovers, was painfully missing now that she was alert. She missed it like she would have missed her arm, had it suddenly been cut off. *It's me. He doesn't love me anymore, doesn't want me anymore. God, he must know about Spike. No wonder.* Her thoughts continued in a downward spiral of self-hate and disgust until Angel returned with a cell phone. Buffy dialed the number quickly and was relieved to hear her Watcher's familiar voice on the other end. "Giles, it's me. How are you, has the First come?" "No, Buffy, all remains quiet here. Are you quite well?" "I'm as well as I can be, Giles. Angel is patching me back together." "Angel?! I had no idea he was here! Are you…together?" "Not like that, Giles. He's taking care of me…that's all. He's been great." Angel drew the phone from her bandaged hand. "Giles, I want Buffy to rest some more, she took quite a blow to the head. Why don't you stay where you are for the time being. If the First hasn't found you yet, it's best that you stay hidden. Any movement from there could alert the Bringers to your whereabouts." "You're correct, of course, Angel. I'll rest a great deal easier knowing that you are by Buffy's side," Giles said. Angelus smirked into the phone. "She'll never be alone again, Giles. I swear." The Watcher, unaware of Angelus's true meaning, sighed in relief. "Right then, we'll sit tight for the time being." Angelus hung up the phone and looked coolly at Buffy. She was leaning back against the pillows, her strained face showing the exhaustion that pulled at her every move. He smiled in cautious triumph. She was no match for him now. All alone, tired, and still quite damaged from the resurrection. She was putty in his hands. And it was time to play… "Buffy, I'm going to make you some tea. Stay here and rest, I'll be right back." Buffy closed her eyes again as Angel left the room. It was better when he was gone. Then she didn't have to reconcile the tingling that filled her body when he was near with the emptiness in her soul when she looked into his eyes. It was too hard, too much for her to bear that he loved Cordy instead of her. She wasn't sure that she'd ever really believed that either of them could or would truly move on. God knows, she hadn't been able to. Angelus quickly threw together a pot of tea, liberally laced with sleeping powder. Buffy needed to rest deeply for his next gift to truly have the proper impact. He was not averse to helping her along toward that goal. Her Slayer metabolism would throw off the effects of the drug fast enough. Angel walked through the door with a steaming mug of tea and Buffy felt her mouth begging for liquid. She slurped the tea down, uncaring that it was hot enough to make her tongue fuzzy. It tasted bitter, but then, so did Giles's tea, to her. She would have made a lousy Englishwoman, she mused, sipping the dregs. Angelus smiled, took the mug from her, and waited. He was soon rewarded with a yawn. "I'm sorry, Angel," Buffy murmured sleepily. "I can't seem to keep my eyes open any longer." "Buffy, rest is just what you need," Angelus replied evenly. "Close your eyes, Lover." Buffy's brain registered the phrase just as she was drifting off. There was something…something she should notice…she slept. Angelus smoothed a tendril of hair gently from Buffy's face, listening as her breathing grew deep and even. Slowly and tenderly, he stripped the bandages from her hands, smirking as he noticed the clean, healed wounds. Slayer healing was a marvelous thing. When he judged that she was completely under, he scooped her into his arms and carried her back downstairs. The coffin, centered before the fireplace and glowing in the dying light from the embers, was filled nearly to overflowing with maggots. He laid Buffy gently down in the seething mass, brushing the revolting white maggots aside to find the remains of the moldering pillow, upon which he arranged Buffy's head. He strode quickly to the kitchen and grabbed two more bucketfuls of the juvenile flies, pouring them slowly on top of his lover's naked form. Grinning ear to ear with malevolent glee, Angelus closed the coffin lid and latched it. Now, while she slept, he could go grab a little take-out from somewhere… To be continued. |
