The Key to Connor:
Chapter 2
By Rhi
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Spoilers: This follows Ats ep "Forgiving" and contains spoilers thereto.
Distribution: Sure, just let me know. DarkRhiannon@aol.com
Feedback: Is always nice.
Rating: NC-17 with warnings for language, pain, angst and B/A sex.
Author's Note: This is the happy one. The poem that Angel recites to
Buffy is Sea
Dawn by Francis Hackett, a Celtic Poet who lived from 1883 to 1962.
*
The only thing that kept the moment from being absolutely perfect, and
thus deadly was Angel's overwhelming worry about getting back through the
Gate in time. Quickly, he wrapped Connor in his dirty blankets and sprinted
out of the pathetic little dwelling. Picking up speed, he loped back toward
the Gate, praying with every ounce of his being that he could get his son
there in time.
The miles stretched on in an unending stream, torturing his already
tired body to the breaking point. His consolation, his joy, his sole purpose
now rested safely in his arms, a bit grumpy at the jostling, but cooing
contentedly nonetheless at finally being back in his father's strong arms.
Angel smiled down at his son, grateful for any chance to hold him once
again.
He gave the skeletal tree-things a much wider berth this time, taking
no chances with his baby boy. Climbing through the rocky terrain, he saw
the telltale glow of the Gate in the far distance and hurried towards it.
As he approached he saw that the energy field was waning, a sure sign
that whatever was powering it was running out of force. He jumped headlong
into it, clutching Connor to him with gentle strength, now worried about
the effects of such travel on his boy. God only knew what the warped energy
that the boy had now been exposed to twice might do to his developing brain.
Angel prayed harder and was seized with a shock that nearly made him drop
his infant son.
His soul, *god no!* Something was happening in the Gate as it shut down
around him. He could feel Buffy, somehow, around, inside, throughout his
body, his mind and heart. His soul struggled against a dark roiling thing
that welled up from deep inside his mind and Angel nearly blacked out as
the two sides of his nature fought over possession of his very being. With
a thunderous shock, his soul seated itself firmly in place, forcing out
the evil and leaving only the bloodlust he was used to. Suddenly, he arrived
back in the lobby of the Hyperion with a thud that he turned into a graceful
roll, coming to his feet with Connor unharmed in his strong hands.
*
Spike lurked in a dark corner of the Hyperion hotel, pacing restlessly
back and forth and chain-smoking with no regard for ashtrays or the polished
marble floor. This was taking too long and he had never had the patience
of his sire. Angelus would plot for years to destroy prized prey…torturing
and maiming first one loved one, then the next until the poor unfortunate
felt damned and despondent. Only then, when he'd utterly destroyed the
person, would Angelus feed. He claimed that nothing tasted better than
despair in the blood.
Personally, Spike thought he was crazy. Spike liked his blood spiced
with sex or violence…preferably both at the same time. Pheromones gave
it a great kick combined with adrenaline. Slayers practically reeked of
both when you fought them…it was why he'd sought them out.
Suddenly he felt a change in the pressure surrounding the glowing Gate.
He looked up and growled as a dark mass took shape within the scintillating
energy. With a huge boom and a rush of foul-smelling air from…somewhere…Angel
appeared in all his flowing black-dustered glory. He knelt for a moment
in the center of the gate, then rose, clutching a squalling dirty infant
to his broad chest and grinning as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Fred rushed forward grabbing Angel and hugging them with all her might.
"You're back. But…" she paused in worry, "how is Connor?"
Angel smiled happily down into her pretty face. "Connor is fine, Fred,"
he held her close, glad of her gentle presence in their lives. "Do you
want to hold him?" he passed Connor carefully to Fred and she carried him
to Gunn and Lorne.
"Spike, what are you doing here?" Angel growled at his childe, worried
now that yet another enemy had appeared.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Sire. I'm not here for you, I'm
here to protect the Slayer. Now get your poncy ass upstairs and get her
out of the bloody fucking Gate she created to save your sorry ass while
I stand guard against the boogey lawyers down here." Spike his back on
Angel, jealous that he would be the one to have Buffy, but knowing that
Angel was the only one she had ever truly loved. Spike loved her too much
himself to fight it anymore.
Angel stared at his childe in confusion for a moment, then sprinted
for the stairs, suddenly afraid of what he might find upstairs. Now that
his mind was clear of worry for Connor, at least for the moment, he smelled
the telltale scent of Buffy's powerful blood. Suddenly a horrific scream
came from above and he raced up the stairs, taking them four at a time
to get to the pained source of the cries.
*
With what little life remained to her, Buffy felt Angel's familiar presence
surge through the Gate she held open. Finally she could let go. She screamed,
allowing all the pain and anguish caused by the dread magics ripping her
life-energy from her body to escape in the terrible cry. The Gate collapsed
around her, its energy snapping back into her helpless figure like a bolt
of lightening. She convulsed in torment, the spikes ripping new gashes
in her limbs where they had almost healed. Her scream turned into a feeble
moan as she gasped for breath, trying to hold onto some semblance of life.
Angel heard the Slayer's scream and felt the energy snap into her as
the Gate collapsed. He kicked open the door, raced to Buffy's side and
stopped, nonplussed by the damage she had taken holding the Gate open for
him.
Buffy's face was ashen, nearly all blood drained from it, leaving her
almost translucent. Her short blond hair lay stiffly clumped in brown dried
blood. Her slender body looked as if the life had been sucked out of it.
Gaunt and stricken, she raised suffering eyes to the vampire who loved
her. "Angel," she whispered in that half-questioning way she had, "Did
you save…"
"Yes. He's back. I brought him home, safe and bloody sound. God, Buffy,
look at you." Angel's dark eyes filled with tears. "How could you let them
do this to you, Buffy?" he whispered brokenly, kneeling by her side and
stroking the sticky blood-stained hair from her face with loving fingers.
"How could you let those bastards from Wolfram and Hart crucify you
to open that damned Gate for me? You used your own life and blood to hold
it the whole time I was gone, didn't you? Look what they've done to you,
oh Buffy, Beloved!" He sobbed her name in hopeless anguish, sure that even
the Slayer's extraordinary strength couldn't heal these horrific wounds
in time.
He stroked her face gently. She turned suffering eyes to him and blinked
dazedly into his handsome face. "Angel?" she whispered, "I-is everyone
all right? Did I keep the Gate open long enough?" her voice trembled with
pain as she struggled to stay conscious.
"Yes, Beloved. You saved us all. I'm going to pull these spikes out
and try to staunch the bleeding, Buffy. Brace yourself" Angel ripped his
duster off and tore his shirt from his back, shredding it into strips.
He grasped the spike in Buffy's left hand and held her arm and fingers
down as gently as he could with his other hand.
Angel pulled the spike from her with one heave, tossing it away from
him as she screamed in renewed pain. Her torn hand gushed fresh blood from
the gaping wound in its center. Angel quickly padded it with fabric, then
wrapped it tightly with another strip from his shirt. Then, he performed
the same dread service for Buffy's right hand. She moaned brokenly in anguish,
her ravaged features contorted with the agony.
He moved down to her feet and hissed with fury as he saw the damage
the spikes had done to the delicate bones there. It would take a miracle
for her to ever walk again, he thought. He shook his head and grabbed the
spike, ripping it from his love's broken body with a fierce pull. He wrapped
her foot as gently as he could, wincing at her barely audible moan. *She
can't even scream anymore,* he thought. *I've got to get her to hospital
now.* He worked quickly to remove the last of the spikes from Buffy's other
foot and wrapped it painstakingly.
Angel cradled the dying Slayer gently in his arms, wrapping the duster
around her and rising in one lithe motion. With anguished eyes and tears
poured down his handsome face he gazed down at her. "I'm taking you to
the nearest hospital, Buffy, hold on!" he choked out.
Buffy stared at his beautiful face, secure in the love she felt pouring
from him. He ran from the room and down the stairs with her and spared
a quick thought for Connor, who was now wrapped in clean clothes and happily
sucking on a bottle that Fred was feeding him. "Fred, Gunn, Lorne, work
with Spike to keep Connor safe from Wolfram and Hart, please. I've got
to get Buffy to the hospital!"
He carried Buffy to his car and raced toward the nearest hospital, crooning
to the broken Slayer clutched next to him in the front seat. "Hold on,
Buffy. We're almost there. Don't you dare die on me again, Buffy, so help
me, I'll...I'll turn you myself…if you even try to get away. Please, Beloved,
hang on just a bit longer. You've been so brave, so strong, just hold on,
Buffy." His voice broke in anguish as he glanced at the wasted face of
the woman he loved with all his unbeating heart before facing ahead again
to try to concentrate on driving.
Buffy could barely focus on Angel's soft voice. She'd done her job.
Given her gift again. She could rest now, couldn't she? She was just so
tired. So very very tired.
Angel could feel her letting go, preparing to escape him yet again.
"Buffy," he said sharply, "Buffy, don't let go. You have to fight for a
while longer, Beloved. You can't go yet, your work isn't finished here.
What about Dawn and Willow and Xander? You can't leave them alone on the
Hellmouth. They need you. *I* need you. I love you Buffy. What will happen
to me if you leave?" His voice cracked with grief. "Connor needs you, too,
Buffy. I need you to help me take care of him. What do I know about babies?
Please, darling, we'll find a way…together…somehow. Just please don't leave
me again." Tears streamed from his face as they pulled up to the ER entrance.
Angel leapt from the car with Buffy in his arms, praying with everything
in him that they could still save her.
*
Doctors, nurses and orderlies ran through the hallways of the ER like
ants. They'd taken Buffy from Angel and carted her off to a sterile room
without another word to him. Angel paced and brooded.
*
Buffy was warm. Warm and woozy and floating in a sea of peaceful calm.
Nothing hurt anymore…she couldn't feel her arms or her legs. She felt as
if she'd been wrapped in cotton and set adrift on a peaceful tide. *Mmm
nice,* she thought dreamily, then dove back down into the dark of healing
Slayer sleep.
*
Cordy and Gru strode through the doors of the Hyperion as fast as they
could and stopped dead at the sight greeting them. Gunn and Fred were cooing
over Connor while Lorne and Spike debated the relative merits of the Sex
Pistols versus Billy Idol.
"I saw you die," Cordy sobbed, rushing over and hugging the Fang Gang
to her trembling body. "I saw Angelus kill Gunn and Fred and go after Buffy…God
it was awful. What happened? How did you change things?"
"Wow, is that what could have happened? Thank God he didn't get too
happy! It’s a long story, darling," Lorne drawled from the office. "Why
don't we let our undead friend here keep watch with Gunn and you and Grusalag
come sit down and Uncle Lorne will tell you the whole tale?"
*
Buffy lay, aching and exhausted in the hospital bed. Her poor, maimed
hands and feet were wrapped in bandages and propped on pillows. The doctors
were amazed at her recovery, but she still had far to go before she regained
even a tiny bit of her Slayer strength. Right now, it was all locked into
healing her as fast as possible. At least, they'd found her a windowless
private room, she thought. It made it possible for Angel to spend daylight
hours with her without fearing for his own safety.
Angel had been with her every time she woke, lending his quiet support.
He'd coaxed the nurses into letting him stay and watch over Buffy with
his heartfelt declarations of love for her. *The night-dark eyes didn't
hurt either,* she thought to herself, chuckling a bit ruefully. God knows,
she'd fallen for them. He'd stopped home to change, feed and check on Connor,
but always returned to her immediately.
Buffy closed her eyes and started to sink back into blessed oblivion,
grateful for the respite from pain. Angel watched from his chair, standing
guard over his soul-mate as she recovered slowly.
*
[A week later]
"I don't care, I want to leave now. I hate hospitals." Buffy would have
stomped her foot if she could stand. Since she couldn't, she gave the doctor
her very best "resolve face" and glared at him. "I'm going to be nearby.
I'll go to my physical therapy sessions. But I want out of this place today."
Dr. Green winced. This patient had come in with horrific injuries only
a week before. She had no recollection of how she'd received them, and
he'd been certain that she would die from infection or loss of blood, but
she held on and healed with a swiftness that was miraculous in his experience.
Despite that quick healing or perhaps because of it, she was his most difficult
patient ever. She refused to follow orders, insisted on trying to move
around on her own, and gave the staff endless grief about getting out.
At this point, there was nothing more he could do for her anyway. The rest
would be up to her physical therapist, though really, at the rate she was
healing, therapy might not even be necessary for long.
Sighing, he filled out the release forms and held the clipboard for
her to sign. Her bandaged hands were clumsy around the pen and she couldn't
grasp it at all, but she managed to sign her name on the form indicating
that she was leaving against doctor's advice.
Smiling up at the dark man who rarely left her side, Buffy reached her
arms to him. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, which was close to
the truth, and placed her gently into the wheelchair. "Wanna push me really,
really fast?" she teased up at him, then winced as she remembered Willow
saying practically the same thing to her years ago when Angelus had been
loose.
"No racing, Beloved," the dark man replied, gazing at her with devotion.
He wheeled her carefully to the entrance and out the doors into the gentle
evening breeze.
Dr. Green watched as he opened the car door for her and carefully lifted
her into the seat. He kissed her deeply, fastening the seat belt carefully
around her tiny frame. The doctor sighed, his romantic heart touched by
the sight of the two, so obvious was their devotion. He turned back to
his duties inside as they drove off.
Angel pulled the convertible to the front of the hotel. Despite Buffy's
assurances to the contrary, the short ride had drained her of most of her
energy. He'd never felt so worried for her before. Her deceptive fragility
was all too real, now, and he wondered if she could ever get her strength
back enough to continue Slaying.
He climbed from his seat and walked around the car to open the passenger
door for her, then scooped Buffy into his arms gently, trying not to jostle
her still tender limbs. He kicked the door shut and carried Buffy into
the hotel, nestling her into the leather sofa and returning outside to
park.
Cordelia and Fred had festooned the lobby with streamers and balloons.
A huge "Welcome Home" sign was hanging a bit askew on the front desk. Willow
and Xander stood there, somewhat awkwardly with Spike and Lorne, who was
holding Connor. Dawn raced forward to her sister. She hugged Buffy and
burst into tears. "How could you leave me again? You nearly died. And we
weren't even here!" Sniffling, she swiped at her tears with the back of
her hand before staring at her sister's pale, drawn face, then back at
Spike for reassurance.
"Bit, I told you she was fine, what don't you believe me now? Been hangin'
around my pouf of a sire and listening to his stories, have you?" Dawn
smiled at him, grateful for the one constant in her mixed up world. Spike
was always there to protect her.
Xander cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, Buffy, maybe we could
get this party going. What do you say?"
Buffy's dazed glance at her friends spoke to how much pain she was still
in, but they surrounded her with blankets and propped up her feet on the
cushions. They flinched as she winced from even those gentle touches. They
hadn’t seen her feet, but they knew how bad they must be after Angel had
ripped the spikes from them.
Angel strode into the lobby and looked around at the people gathered
there. The fang gang, as Cordy had taken to calling them, were mixing with
the Scoobs. Gunn with his arm around Fred was talking quietly with Cordy,
Tara and Gru. Willow walked to Buffy and knelt near her. "Buffy, you were
so wrong in the letter you wrote us. We don’t do better without you. We
can barely get by at all. We need you, Buffy. Please never leave us again.
Buffy looked around at her friends. With this much love, how could she
possibly leave, no matter how tired she was. She leaned back into the couch
with a sigh and smiled at Willow. The pain pills made everything hazy and
indistinct anyway, and reduced the tearing pain that plagued her hands
and feet to a throbbing ache. She looked up at Angel, "So, can I see him?"
Angel nodded and walked to Lorne, taking Connor from him and cuddling
him close as he moved to Buffy. "Look, Connor, here she is. This is Buffy.
She saved you. She saved us all." He held Connor out to Buffy and she cradled
him carefully in her arms, keeping her heavily bandaged hands away from
him.
Spike leaned over her and looked at the child in her arms. "Poor beggar
looks just like you, Sire, Satan help him. Oh, well, some women go for
that dark hulking look, I hear."
Angel glared at him, then grinned an Angelus grin. "Well, Spikey," he
drawled, "some childer used to go for that look too, from what I remember…"
"Spike, are you blushing?" Fred asked, disentangling herself from Gunn
and walking closer. "I didn't know vampires could blush! How does that
work? Can you blush anytime or only when you've had blood recently? Does
it work the same as in a human or is there a physiological difference?"
"Cor, Peaches, call her off, for hell's sake. Can't a bloke get any
privacy around here?" Spike blushed even harder, if that was possible and
flinched from the laughter of the entire group.
Buffy laughed up at Angel, as well and he turned toward her gratefully,
glad to hear that clear sound coming from her lips after so long. He was
staring at her, entranced by the sight of his soulmate nestling with his
child. Connor began fussing and Buffy reluctantly gave him to Cordy so
he could eat. Her hands were two big mittens and a bottle was far beyond
her abilities right now.
The gangs gathered round, stuffing themselves with pizza and cheese
curls and laughing about this or that adventure. Everything was perfect,
thought Angel, as he coaxed Buffy to take a bit of pizza or a sip of coke.
She was fading fast, barely able to hold her eyes open, but unwilling to
be the one who ended the festivities. Finally, she just closed her eyes
and fell asleep right on the couch, securely nestled in Angel's cool arms.
The look on his sire's face was enough to make Spike look away in jealousy.
Angel watched Buffy with an adoration he had never shown anyone.
As the friends sat there basking in the joy of having Buffy safe at
home at last, the doors to the lobby burst open and Lilah Morgan entered,
followed by a contingent of Wolfram and Hart's finest cannon fodder.
"Angel. So glad to have you back. Oh, and I see Buffy is out of the
woods now. What a shame. I knew I should have used bigger spikes," she
sneered. Angel vamped instantly to game face, holding Buffy protectively
against his cool chest. Spike vamped as well, their mutual rage at the
woman who had nearly destroyed the Slayer immediate and overwhelming.
Angel glanced at Lorne, who nodded subtly at him. "Lilah. I have some
unfinished business with you. How about we take it outside?" His voice
sounded distinctly more Angelus than Angel at that moment…a growling mix
of hatred and violence roiling beneath the surface words.
"Big words from a guy with far too many people to protect. Who will
die first, Angel…your ex?" Lilah pointed at Buffy and one of the guards
stepped forward, aiming a high-powered sniper rifle at the sleeping girl.
"Or your child?" Lilah pointed at Connor, held securely in Cordy's arms.
Another guard stepped forward, but Gru interposed himself between him and
Cordy effectively blocking any shot he might take.
"Nice angel clone, Cordelia. Couldn't get your hands on the real thing?"
Lilah sneered. Cordy looked momentarily taken aback, then pissed as the
insult registered.
"Now, here's how this is going to go, Angel…you hand over Connor and
we won't kill all your human friends. We don’t want to kill him, just study
him."
"How stupid do you think I am, Lilah?" Angel growled. "Did you think
I hadn't planned for this very contingency? Didn't you wonder why you didn't
attack us the second I arrived back with Connor? It would have been smarter…I
was tired, Buffy was dying, Spike was distracted and the others were busy."
Lilah shook her head, thinking back to that moment. She *had* been ready,
but something hadn't been just right…there had been something she needed
to do…now she couldn't even recall what it was.
"It was a spell, Lilah, a simple little distraction spell. It only works
around the hotel and only for a limited time, but it was enough to keep
you off our backs while we set the real protections in place. Illuminae!"
he commanded.
A warm glowing light filled the room and pushed the lawyers from it
until they reached the doorway. There, the light melded with the walls
and glass to form an unbreakable seal of force. Lilah swore and tried to
step forward only to be pushed back two steps instead.
"You're not invited, Lilah. This party was just for friends. Thanks
for dropping by, though. We'll be seeing you around." Angel growled the
last words, a promise of sorts that Lilah could look forward to the next
dark alley he found her in. No one tortured his mate and lived. No one.
Angel glanced at the peacefully sleeping Slayer in his arms. "I think
that's enough excitement for Buffy for one night," he said and rose gracefully
to his feet, cradling Buffy gently in his arms and pacing slowly to the
stairs. He carried the Slayer to his new apartment and tucked her carefully
into the huge linen covered bed, arranging her bandaged feet and hands
on feather pillows. He covered her with the soft sheets and cotton blanket
and curled himself in a nearby chair to sit watch over the sleeping girl.
A short while later, Cordy entered and carried a sleeping Connor to
his fresh new crib. Angel smiled gratefully at her, but returned his eyes
to his sleeping mate. Cordy smiled, just a little wistfully at the couple
and then left, closing the door behind her.
The end.
Author's Note: This one goes out to Ice Queen, Courtney, Darkend
Faith and all you other B/A shippers out there. B/A Denial forever!
-Rhi (who has now reasserted herself as a great big fluffy Buffy/Angel
lover)
Epilogue
It had been three months since Angel's return from Quortoth with Connor
and Buffy was climbing the walls. It wasn't that Angel was ignoring her,
no, perish the thought. He was all that was solicitous. He'd cooked for
her, carried her, even bathed her with the indifferent professionalism
of a trained nurse. The one thing he hadn't done was kiss her in anything
more than an avuncular way. The caresses she so longed for were completely
absent.
Despite the Host's confirmation that the Gate energies had seared his
soul to his body and that he was safe from ever losing it again, Angel
held Buffy at arms length. She'd taken to teasing him provocatively, just
to try to get a rise out of him, but it was failing miserably, as was her
self-confidence. *He doesn't want me any more,* Buffy thought sadly as
she flexed her now-bandageless hands in the physical therapy exercises
prescribed by the therapist. She sat in the window seat and looked out
into the sere garden court of the hotel, consumed in negative emotion.
*Before I was innocent. I had never even thought about being with anyone
but him. Now, well, now it's different. He obviously doesn't want me anymore.
Well, really, he said he didn't want his life to be with me, even back
there in Sunnydale. I thought…well, I should stop being such a burden and
get back to Sunnydale.* Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Connor
and Angel. She'd grown so attached to them both, enjoying the easy camaraderie
of the Fang Gang as they battled evil while she stayed home with Lorne
and Connor, taking care of the home front. But she couldn't stay here and
be near Angel and not want him. He was her soul mate, her only true love,
the one she would die for.
Better that she just return to Sunnydale, even though she was certain
they needed her there even less. The Gate had drained the Hellmouth of
all energy and the supernatural elements of the town had dried up and blown
away almost overnight. Even Spike was talking about taking off for Prague,
or Paris, or someplace with a P.
Willow and Tara had been looking after Dawn so well that the teenager
had even stopped her incessant whining. They certainly offered her more
stability than some useless worn-out Slayer. Buffy felt depression, her
near constant companion during her long, grueling recovery, rear its ugly
head again. She lay back against the pillows so thoughtfully *coldly* provided
by Angel and sobbed silently into her hands.
*
After taking Connor to Cordy for feeding and play time, Angel had offered
Buffy a pillow in her window seat as she sat and performed the hand exercises
that the therapist had ordered. *She's looking better,* he thought, gazing
darkly at the downturned head of his love. One strap of her top slipped
off of her shoulder as she flexed and he held in a gasp with difficulty.
Quickly he strode from the room, returning to his own with near desperation.
Shucking his black silk shirt and wool trousers by the bed, Angel raced
for his shower. Once locked in the privacy of his self-enforced loneliness,
he turned the water to warm and stepped in.
His cock throbbed with need, a need he'd been suppressing for months
while Buffy convalesced. He needed his soulmate, now more than ever. But
she deserved better than him, he knew. She deserved sunlight and babies,
other than Connor, who could only ever remind her of Darla and his own
weakness in cheating on her, his one true love. His only love. In his 246
years of life and unlife, Buffy was the only woman he had ever loved.
Angel stroked one soapy hand over his hard length, imagining that it
was hers. He cradled his balls in the other, cupping them as he stroked
the cool flesh that cried out for her living heat. The image of Buffy,
naked and hot in his arms, was overwhelming and he came in moments, spurting
cum across the back wall of the shower and slumping in momentary relief.
As the weeks had passed, he'd resorted more and more to his fantasies
of Buffy in order to keep from going mad. Angel knew he should be grateful
just to have her in his life, and not press his luck. She had moved on,
he knew. Hells, he had urged her to do it. The fact that it hadn't worked
out right yet simply meant that no man had been worthy of her. She deserved
everything a man could offer, not the hollow life that she would have with
him. He raged inwardly while trying to hold to the honorable choice. He
pulled away, keeping her at arms' length because any closer and he'd clutch
her to him, never to leave.
Angel washed the soap from himself with a groan, already half turgid
again just at the thought of her. He was going insane.
*
Buffy smiled at Cordelia as the seer and the rest of the Fang Gang left
the hotel with Connor in tow. They were taking him to the beach, complete
with 45 sunblock and many many blankets. Buffy turned and slowly climbed
the stairs to Angel's room, determined once and for all, to break his silence.
She hissed softly as her still-tender feet paced slowly down the hall.
She dreaded this almost as much as she craved it, but she was going to
confront him, ready or not.
*I'm the Slayer, damn it!* she thought as she eased his door open. *I'm
supposed to be courageous. I am NOT shaking like a leaf!* Her hand trembled
on the doorknob as she entered Angel's suite.
He slept, pale and perfect, on his bed of crimson satin and Buffy lost
her breath at the sight of his beauty. He was all that was masculine, dark
and broad, with that pale skin just crying out for her touch. Buffy walked
slowly to his bedside and gazed for long moments at her love. His face
looked so young to her as he slept. The cares and worries that pulled at
the lines of his mouth, never allowing him to smile except at baby Connor,
were absent when he slept.
In fact, he was looking decidedly…hot! Buffy thought as Angel licked
his lips and murmured in his sleep. He panted needlessly and licked his
lips again and Buffy wanted nothing so much as to kiss those glistening
lips. Shaking with mingled dread and anticipation, she dropped her clothes
to the floor and climbed gingerly onto the bed.
Angel was dreaming, as he had so many times in recent years, of Buffy.
Buffy in his bed, Buffy under him, Buffy over him, Buffy licking cold ice
cream from his chest on the day that wasn’t. He ached with his need to
possess her, to thrust within her warm, tight body and feel the slick walls
of her grip him in their inimitable vice. He groaned, thrusting upward
as his dream-Buffy caressed his hard cock with her tiny, powerful hands.
She rubbed up and down him just right, teasing him with long slow strokes.
His dream self watched as Buffy leaned closer and closer to him and
then took the weeping tip of his aching hardness into her small, pink mouth.
Angel groaned and nearly jumped off of the bed at the warm wetness of her
inferno of a mouth. Dream-Buffy swept her tongue around his head, tantalizing
him with the hot, velvety softness of her mouth before sucking him deeper
into her throat, taking him down to the root. Angel thrust up into her
mouth, unable to control his need any longer.
Suddenly he pulled back. Too real. His dreams were never this good.
They ended in blood, or tears or cold, not in warm heated depths. He struggled
awake and blinked dazed eyes as he looked around his bedroom. It smelled
right, he didn't scent any strangers. No, he scented…Buffy.
Buffy lapped delicately at Angel's cock before sucking him into her
mouth again. She'd longed to do this for him as soon as she'd learned about
it. Longed to taste him, to feel the hard length of him in her mouth and
hold that pleasurable power over him. Lord knows, he'd teased her enough,
that one, wonderful night that they'd had together. He'd taught her barely
seventeen-year-old body to crave the finesse and talent that only a two-century
plus vampire could offer. His cool tongue had lapped at her as if she tasted
as heady as blood to him, and he'd brought her to heights she'd never dared
dream of.
Now it was her turn and Buffy put the unwanted experience she'd gained
with others to good use on her first and only real love. Angel moaned under
her expert caress and thrust himself deep into her mouth as she sucked
him. Then, just as she was sure he was truly enjoying himself, asleep though
he might be, he shuddered and woke, pulling away from her.
He growled and grasped her in brutal hands, rolling her surprised
body under his in one powerful movement. Buffy could feel his cock pressing
insistently against her and she shuddered in sudden fear and desire.
"What do you think you're doing?" Angel growled, trying desperately
to keep from sheathing himself in her oh-so-warm and tantalizing depths.
"Do you think this is a game, Buffy?"
She was startled into the truth by his angry words. "No. Not a game.
This is everything." She looked away from his blazing amber eyes, afraid
now that she knew the cause of his anger. "Angel," she whispered, "I'm
sorry. I thought you wanted me…wanted us to be together." Her voice broke
on the last word as she thought back over all the past months. He'd never
kissed her passionately or indicated that he'd wanted anything but her
recovery, despite sharing his suite with her.
Angel growled low in his throat and relaxed his hold on her. She was
clad in a scanty, blood red satin teddy and he wanted nothing more than
to rip it from her body with one pull. She was everything to him. As he
gazed at her, he admitted it. He couldn't exist without this woman. Without
Buffy, even with Connor, there was no purpose to his life other than the
endless battle against evil. And even that wasn't reason enough to continue
his existence.
He stroked one gentle hand down the side of Buffy's face, realizing
that he'd made her cry. "Shush, Buffy. It's all right. I didn't mean to
yell at you." He pressed kisses to her tear-stained face, licking away
the salt and soothing her sadness. Kissing her had the same effect as always,
and he felt borrowed blood swelling him even harder.
Buffy sighed under him and rubbed the soft satin against him as she
shifted her hips.
He was kissing her. Finally. Angel kisses were definitely of the good,
she thought
hazily as she arched into his embrace with all of the pent-up passion
that she'd felt for
so long.
Angel stroked one large hand down her body, tracing its contours through
the satin.
She was exquisite. She'd finally filled out again, no longer resembling
the skeletal
wraith he'd found dying on his floor when he'd returned through the
Gate. Stroking up
and down her side with his hand, he growled deep in his throat. He
was weak. He
was selfish. He couldn't give her up. With that thought, he rose to
kneel above her
and grasped the spaghetti straps of her teddy. He slid them skillfully
down her arms,
tugging gently as the satin began peeling away from her chest.
Buffy groaned as Angel rubbed the satin against her aching nipples.
They were hard
with need and so sensitive to his touch that a spill of moisture escaped
from between
her legs as he teased her.
Angel could smell her arousal and grinned in triumph at the well-remembered
scent
as he rubbed the satin over Buffy's breasts. His patience was nearing
an end,
however, and at last he whisked the teddy down, pulling back and sliding
it over her
elegant legs and tossing it aside.
He returned to kneel between her legs, grasping them gently and opening
her to his
dark gaze. Angel slowly kissed his way up Buffy's legs, alternating
between them and
spending long moments nipping at the sensitive skin behind her knees
before
climbing ever higher.
Buffy thought she would die of need before Angel even touched her. His
skillful
teasing was building the fires within her ever higher, without allowing
them to recede.
She ached for him to touch her, with his fingers, mouth, anything.
Instead he pressed
long hard kisses to her inner thighs and suckled gently at the tender
skin over her
pulse.
He could smell her blood beating ever more rapidly through the femoral
artery under
the soft skin there. His fangs dropped involuntarily at the tantalizing
scent and the
equally tantalizing sound of that pulse. It called to him, called to
all of his darker
desires. The binding of his soul by the Gate energy hadn't banished
the demon, it
merely caged him. Angelus lurked below the surface, fueling Angel's
eternal life and
his eternal blood lust. He jerked away from that too-tempting pulse.
His frustration turned to passion and without warning he plunged his
cool tongue into
Buffy's cunt, lapping hungrily at the moisture dripping from her. She
screamed, and
he responded by sliding both hands under her ass and pulling her closer
to his face
as he ate at her with fierce wanton strokes of his talented tongue.
Buffy was screaming with need and desire as waves of pleasure rolled
over her.
Angel was insatiable, forcing her to come over and over again as he
sucked her clit
and tongued her cunt with his cold tongue. At last, when she was sure
she was going
insane from the sheer intensity of her orgasms, he stopped. He gazed
up at her, in
game face and licked his lips, his tongue darting between his fangs
to catch every
drop of her honey.
Buffy grabbed him and rolled, forcing him down below her. "Turnabout
is fair play,
Lover," she purred, pushing on his chest until he lay back on the pillow,
gazing at her
with lust-darkened eyes. Buffy took her time, kissing his wet mouth
and tasting
herself there before she spread molten kisses over his jaw and moved
to his strong
neck. She sucked lightly where a pulse would have been and smiled as
he groaned
and nearly rolled them both off of the bed.
*God!* Her teeth, her bite, she was treating him as a vampire would
treat its mate and
his demon rose at the thought of who, exactly, had taught her this.
Then he lost all
train of thought as she moved her mouth lower and sucked one of his
nipples into her
inferno of a mouth. Her short, blunt fingernail teased the other as
she bit down and
he arched into her caress.
Buffy couldn't keep her hands from roaming Angel's beautiful body. He
was bulkier
than he'd been in Sunnydale. More muscular, which surprised her. How
could
vampires bulk up? But he had. It must have taken him hours, she knew,
vampires
rarely changed from the shape they'd died in. She traced his muscular
stomach with
trembling fingers, unable to believe that she was actually able to
do this again. Their
one night together so very long ago, hadn't faded in her mind, but
she'd lingered over
the memories so often that they'd come to seem like a well-loved story.
Something
too beautiful to be real.
This, though, this hot, wet, need that dripped from her simply from
looking at him, this
was REAL. Buffy skimmed her mouth lower, tracing the broad hipbones
under his
muscular build. She bit at one and he jumped, his cock leaning toward
her as if
begging for attention. Buffy took pity on him and kissed the tip.
Angel nearly jumped right out of the bed. She had kissed his cock and
now sucked
the head into her mouth. The heat, God! She was going to burn him alive.
He
moaned in need and she responded, sucking at him lightly and cupping
his balls in
one tiny hand. The other hand encircled his cock, tugging and stroking
at him until he
was sure that somehow, he'd died, been redeemed and gone to heaven.
She sucked
harder, stroking firmly and teasing the tip of his cock with her tongue.
"Buffy, stop, I'm going to…" he gasped, trying to warn her that he would
spill. Buffy just growled deep in her throat and stroked a tiny bit faster
while she twirled her tongue around him before taking him deep into her
throat.
Angel came with a yell, pumping into Buffy's hot mouth with long nearly
painful bursts
that he swore would kill him. He lay, quiescent, and watched in wonder
as she
swallowed every drop and licked at him again to catch the last few.
She climbed him like a cat, sliding up his body and perching on his
stomach to kiss
him. "Feel better, Lover?" she asked, grinning with glee at actually
turning the tables
on him for once. Guess those times with Spike actually paid off, since
he knew
exactly what Angel liked in bed and enjoyed taunting her with the knowledge
when
they were fighting.
"Gods, Buffy, that was…" Angel could barely speak, just staring into
the eyes of his
beloved with disbelief at the sheer amount of pleasure she'd brought
him. He kissed
her deeply, biting at her mouth and sucking her tongue into his own.
Buffy groaned and slid her heated core over Angel's hardening cock.
She loved this
part of being with a vampire. The refraction period was practically
nonexistent. She
stroked her dripping slit back and forth over his cock and grinned
at the expression on
his face.
She wasn't laughing a moment later when she was slammed violently on
her back.
Angel knelt above her with a look very much like pain on his face.
"Buffy, I swore I
wouldn't do this, wouldn't pull you back into the dark with me…" he
gritted.
Buffy interrupted. "Angel, hello? Look at me. I'm the Slayer. Already
dwelling in the
dark, here. She arched against him, sliding her hot, wet folds against
his still
rampant cock. "Besides, we can have much more fun in the dark!"
Angel moaned and gave in to the overwhelming need that echoed in her
eyes. It was
precisely what he felt, as well. He pressed forward, teasing the tight
opening of her
cunt with his cool cock. Buffy spread her legs even further and he
thrust into her
moving with unbearable slowness as he stretched her needy passage with
his
equally desperate cock.
Buffy moaned his name over and over as he slowly filled her. She'd forgotten
just how
big he was, how marvelous he felt as he possessed her utterly.
Finally, he was sheathed completely within her. He stilled and pressed
his lips to her
forehead, trying to hold onto his self control. Buffy rolled her hips
under him and he
lost it. He pulled back almost completely out of her and plunged back
in, grinding his
aching cock into her heated depths with unbelievable force. His need,
so long
suppressed, was wild within him and he chanted her name over and over
as he
stroked into her.
Buffy's need was just as great and she met each of Angel's thrusts with
her own,
slamming her clit into his pelvic bone with each thrust. She was spiraling
higher and
higher, the ecstasy almost more than she could bear. She screamed,
"Angel, god
please!" and turned her head, baring her throat to him.
Angel could not have resisted her even if he'd wanted to, and at that
moment, rational
thought was far far away. He sank his aching fangs into the scar he'd
marked her with
so long ago and drank. Her powerful blood sent him headlong into the
most exquisite
orgasm of his life and he rocked into her with enough force to kill
a normal woman.
Buffy was back in heaven. Only better. Angel's possessive bite claimed
her again
and the love and lust and sheer physical pleasure that she felt as
she came in violent
waves around his throbbing, cold cock finally forced all consciousness
from her.
Buffy woke to Angel's kisses pressed gently against her neck, her face,
her lips and
breasts. He was whispering Celtic poetry to her, and she struggled
back to
consciousness from her petit morte in order to hear what he was saying.
"From Wicklow to the throb of dawn I walked out to the sea alone
And by the black rocks came upon a being from a world unknown.
As proud she sat as any queen on high, and naked as the air:
Her limbs were lustrous, and a sheen of sea-gold flowed from her
flowing hair.
And as the spreading sea did swell with the dawn's strange and brimming
light,
Her little breasts arose and fell as if in concord with the sight.
Faint was the sea sound that she made of little waves that melt in
sand
While with her honey hair she played and arched the mirror in her
hand.
I watched her lift her head and glance, then lean away with grace
divine.
I stood enraptured till in chance within the glass her eyes met mine.
No eyes had ever such a look, and then I saw her free her eyes.
They dwelt in mine. Mine they took with wonder and with no surprise.
My heart was molten, I gave up my heart as she looked deep in me.
The morning as a crystal cup held us within the sky and sea.
"I love the soul within you." Thus I spoke to her. "Sea woman, come.
Come as new morning dawns for us. This human earth shall be your
home."
She answered only with a moan that I shall hear until I die,
And in that instant she was gone. Bare was the rock, silent the sky."
Tears dripped from Angel's dark eyes as he stroked her golden hair.
Buffy smiled up
at him from sea green eyes and wrapped her arms around him to draw
him down for
her kiss. "No luck, buddy. You're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere,
so you can
just leave off that last part next time you recite that one to me.
Angel clutched Buffy to him like a dying man clinging to grace, and
whispered into her
hair, "Oh, Beloved, I will never leave you again."
And he didn't.
The end.
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