Track A in Track B
Angelus roared in anger and frustration the moment he
realized Buffy wasn’t in the house.
He tore through the house, and tore through poor Mary the
upstairs maid, before tearing through the streets of London, looking for his
lover. He didn’t bother to hide his vampire visage, not caring one whit for
those humans still on the streets, or what they thought of the monster stalking
in their midst.
He didn’t care that he was revealing his secrets to a
society he enjoyed being a part of for the sheer fact that he could be a part of it. Didn’t care what they thought when his Mate
was in missing and most likely in danger.
Buffy was in an alleyway, surrounded by four vamps who
decided that the beautiful young woman alone in the deserted street was the
perfect prey. Sniffing the air, Angelus realized that there were at least three
others already dusted in that alley alone, and a dozen more she’d staked this
evening. Busy little Slayer, wasn’t she. That’d change soon enough…if he
didn’t kill her before then.
He strode forward, a growl echoing around the damp walls,
bouncing off the mist. Buffy didn’t pause in her fighting, knowing already the
feeling that tingled through her at the approach of Angelus. The remaining four
vamps looked up at the sound, pausing just enough for Buffy to stake two of them
in rapid succession.
Shooting a look behind her at her angry lover, noting the
rage and power coming off Angelus, Buffy whipped her stake backwards into the
third vamp, dusting him without looking. Please, she was such an old pro at
vampires; it was the demons that gave her more trouble. The remaining one had
nowhere to run, and was caught by Angelus, golden eyes boring into the younger
now scared ones.
“Does the Mark on her neck mean nothing to you?”
Angelus demanded, his voice low, chilling as he lifted the vampire off the
ground with no effort.
“Ye-yes Ma-Master,” he stuttered, shooting looks
between the Master and the blonde. “Bu-but she’s the S-Slayer!”
“Do you think I care?” He roared, “Do you think it matters?”
Before the hapless vamp had a chance to reply, his head was
ripped from his body, and his ashes were covering the soggy London ground.
Buffy stayed where she was, watching him warily. This was a
confrontation she didn’t want to have, yet it was inevitable all the same.
Slipping the stake into her skirt pocket, the conveniently placed makeshift one,
Buffy waited. She didn’t have to wait long. Angelus whirled towards her, his
eyes glowing in the darkened alley, his growl of anger loud in the quiet night.
“You disobeyed me, Buffy,” he said in a low voice,
stalking slowly towards her, gait loose and easy, belying his anger. Buffy stood
where she was, not moving, eyes locked with the hunter within him. She wasn’t
going to run, this wasn’t something that she was afraid of; this was something
he had to deal with. They both had to deal with.
“Not really,” Buffy tried to reason with him as he
stalked closer and closer. “I never promised you I’d stay in the house.”
“You explicitly disobeyed me,” he went on as if she
hadn’t spoken and Buffy wondered if he’d even heard her. “You put yourself
and my family in danger, and you did it knowingly.” He was inches from her
now, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly, bruising the soft flesh.
“Why?”
“Because,” Buffy started, her voice low and earnest,
stance prepared to fight, not flee. “That’s not who I am.” She looked into
his eyes, ignoring the fingers digging into her shoulders, the small frisson of
fear that went through her at Angelus’ anger. Part of her wanted to placate
him any way she could. Part of her wanted to meet him anger for anger.
“I’m the Slayer. I’m not a slayer. I’m THE
Slayer,” she said, emphasizing the word. “I’ve bonded with the First
Slayer; I’m stronger, faster, better than anyone before me. And I can’t,”
she told him, “Stay quietly on the sidelines and watch the demons overrun the
world I’m sworn to protect.”
“Not even if it puts me in danger?” Angelus asked
smoothly, his silky voice sliding over her. “Not even if it puts you in
danger?”
“I…” Buffy paused, gathering her thoughts. “I’d
rather die than let anything happen to you again,” she swore. He believed her,
believed that was what she meant, but couldn’t let it go. Not something as
important as this. First, however, he let her finish. “But I can’t risk
anyone else because of that. There…there are too many I couldn’t save,”
she admitted, her eyes showing the guilt, and tears that went with that guilt,
for a brief moment. “I can’t risk losing anyone else, even a stranger from a
time I know nothing about.”
“So,” Angelus demanded, his anger not abated in the
least, his fear for her life multiplying that anger. “You’d rather die
than spend eternity with me? You’d rather save a bunch of useless,
ill-fated humans who don’t even know who you are, let alone appreciate what
you do for them? You’d rather do all that, be something that takes you away
from me?”
“NO!” Buffy
shouted, her arms breaking free of Angelus’ punishing grip. Her hand moved to
cup his face, stoic in anger, thumb rubbing his cheekbone, soothing the planes
of his demon.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I thought
you did, I thought you understood when I told you…when I told you of your
future. I can’t be the docile little woman, I can’t. I tried these
weeks, I tried because this is all so strange and new and I’d do anything to
keep you safe.” Tears threatened, but Buffy tried desperately to swallow them.
“But there’s something inside of me that demands to be let free. I have to
hunt, I have to kill, I have to destroy those who I was born to destroy.”
“And this includes me?” His face hadn’t shifted to
his human features, but his voice had lost some of its edge. He was furious with
her, angrier than he could ever remember being with another being in his entire
existence, but he wanted to hear her reasoning. And he wanted to teach her, very
much teach her, a lesson on disobedience.
“No,” she whispered, a single tear tracking down her
face. Angelus reached to capture it, holding the perfect drop of pain and misery
and love on his fingertip. He studied it for a moment before bringing the
moisture to his lips, tasting her anguish, her suffering. Delicious.
“I can’t kill you, it killed me…the last time,”
Buffy admitted brokenly. “I can’t kill you, I can’t live without you, I
can’t do it, not again. But I can’t ignore the,” she stopped, frustrated
with her lack of wording now. “Imperative,” she finished. “I can’t
ignore the Slayer within me that demands release.”
“Then let me,” Angelus offered, walking her backwards
towards the alley wall, the fog swirling around them, hiding them from prying
eyes. “Let me take that away from you, lover.” His hand cupped the back of
her head, the fingers of his other hand tracing the Mark adorning her neck.
“Let me give you an eternity by my side, Buffy, let me
take that burden away from you and give you the world at your feet.” His mouth
closed over the Mark, slowly moving up her neck. Buffy shivered in need, her
body already arching into his at the touch on her neck. “They’ll worship at
your feet, my love, even as the world burns around us.”
Buffy’s head tilted, her heart sped up, her blood pumped
for her lover. She wanted what he offered, oh how she wanted that release. But
she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t accept it. There was…her mom back home. A
mom who didn’t understand her and didn’t really want to. There was…Willow
and Xander. Who had their own lives and who cared about her and her life less
and less. There was…Giles. Who hated Angel because of what Angelus did to him.
Torture. Jenny. Her beloved Watcher wasn’t getting over that and a part of
Buffy hated him for that.
There was the burdens they placed on her, there was the responsibility they expected of her. Not just slaying, which she could and did handle, but with everything else. Everything that went wrong in their lives wasn’t their fault, no , it was somehow hers. And they blamed her openly and constantly for that. For Jenny Calendar, for the deaths during Angelus’ reign of terror, for the blown up high school.
For loving a vampire.
There was Angel, her beloved Angel.
But wasn’t he truly better off without her? He had a new
life, a mission that kept him focused, a reason for living, for helping. He had
friends, a new family. And he still, still,
professed to love her. But they couldn’t be together and that wasn’t ever
changing. It couldn’t change; there was no way around it.
Angelus’ hands slipped up her body, his cool heat burning
her through her clothes, her body already singing for him. She wanted him, she
didn’t want to return. Without her there, her friends could go on to have a
different life, one out of darkness and danger. Willow could go to Oxford;
Xander could leave Sunnydale and get a real job. Giles could go back to England,
as Buffy knew he wanted to.
And Angel could know that his soul was always safe. And
maybe he could find a way to move on. And maybe he could find a new love. And
maybe he’d forget about her and the agony they put each other through.
And maybe she’d die if she had to return. She couldn’t
bear to leave Angel/Angelus now. Not now that she knew him, not now that she
knew the pleasures and pains with him. That she could
know all that. She wanted it, Buffy wanted it all desperately.
“No,” she found herself saying as Angelus’ hands molded her breasts, as his fangs lightly scraped the Mark, bowing her body into his, arousing her to nearly unbearable heights.
“I can’t, love,” she whispered, another tear falling
from her closed eyes. “Please forgive me.”
With that, Buffy broke out of his embrace and fled into the foggy streets of London.
Angelus’ roar – at losing, at the loss of his Mate, at
the loss of her – followed her
throughout the rest of the night. As Buffy left the deserted alleyway, as she
raced into the night to rid herself of something that could never be gone, that
roar of need and pain followed her.
She couldn’t out run it. She wasn’t sure if she wanted
to anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A
The mansion was huge, large enough for the four of them and
then some.
Elizabeth breathed deeply of the space, letting her lungs
fill with the air of freedom, of independence. She loved Giles deeply,
wouldn’t know what to do without him. But he was stifling, in her world yes,
but especially in this one. Whatever relationship he had with the other
Elizabeth – Buffy – it wasn’t that different from with her.
But it was less trusting, and Elizabeth wondered why.
Angel came up behind her as she watched the last rays of
the sun set from her balcony. His arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her
back against him and they both sighed at the contact. Wrapped in the shadows of
the setting sun, they were safe, together, untouched by the outside world.
“What are you thinking?” He asked, placing a kiss on
her smooth, unmarked neck. Angel longed to change that, wanted so badly to Mark
her, to taste her, to make her his. To Mark his Mate. He hated that he
couldn’t that he wasn’t allowed to. His demon hated it, too, and made
his opinions well known.
Just do it,
Angelus insisted, Taste her, drink her,
turn her. Make her Ours, do it, do it, do it, doitdoitdoit…
“That this is nice, the freedom, the openness of the place,” she whispered, unwilling to break the spell around them. “How’d you find it?”
Elizabeth turned, hands resting on his arms. Her eyes were
pure green, open in their need to know, hiding in their need of him, desperate
in their need to hide it all from everyone else; everyone who didn’t
understand. Angel could see her passion, her need of him clearly in her eyes and
wondered how someone who knew him all of two and a half weeks could feel the
same as he. But then he’d always loved Buffy, and this Elizabeth was so very
much like her, yet different enough to have him falling in love with her all
over again.
Lowering his head, Angel’s lips caressed hers, unable to
stop himself. Unwilling to.
His control was slipping, as he knew it would, with every
moment he spent with the woman before him. His cock was hard at the sight of
her; at the faint scent of her that now permeated every room in the mansion. His
fingers convulsed against her back, inadvertently drawing her closer and her
arousal grew stronger with every moment spent together.
“My demon did,” Angel admitted when he pulled away,
reluctant, “When Buffy and Giles burnt down the place Spike, Dru, and I were
staying in.” Angel never noticed the use of names and pronouns in his
sentence.
Elizabeth did and wondered. Wondered how much Angel saw
himself in the demon and vice versa. He’d told her he wanted her, Elizabeth
not Buffy. Buffy was his love, but, Angel insisted – and she believed him –
he wanted her as well. For who Elizabeth was. Was his demon really as different
as Angel claimed? Or was that one slip, the one thing he said about Angelus
wanting Buffy as much as the soul ever did, the truth?
“It’s wonderful,” she said instead, letting the other
subject drop. “And the view is spectacular.”
“You’re not looking at the view,” Angel smiled, not
looking at it, either.
“No, but what I’m looking at is pretty spectacular, too.”
Elizabeth whispered the words even as she moved closer to
him, drawing his head down to meet hers. To touch his lips, to taste his again,
to inhale him and never let go. She wanted him desperately and hated that he
always stopped them. Understood it, but hated it. Why couldn’t he just trust
them, in their love? Why couldn’t he just accept them?
Her fingers slipped into the soft strands of hair at the
base of his neck, her body pressing against his, molding to his. Elizabeth’s
legs parted, one rubbing up Angel’s masculine thigh to hook around his hips,
rocking against him. He growled against her mouth, and Elizabeth felt a surge of
lust at the sound.
“Elizabeth,” his voice was harsh, needy, fingers
tangling in her hair, trapping her willingly in his embrace.
“Make love to me, Angel,” she begged, beyond caring,
beyond waiting.
Her body burned for his, a constant ache that could never
be fully assuaged but could, by him and him alone, dull a little, just a little,
for a time. His mouth attacked hers again, devouring, hungry, insistent.
Elizabeth couldn’t breathe, and didn’t care to. But with every gasp of
breath, she smelled Angel and wanted him more because of that; wanted to be his
in every way conceivable.
“Please, my Angel,” she gasped when he released her
mouth, questing lips moving down her neck to suck at the pounding artery there,
“Please make love to me.”
With great difficulty, Angel pulled away – his body
protesting, his demon complaining, his soul objecting, to the move. He wanted
her so badly, God he wanted her more than anything, and he was afraid this might
be the end, this might be it for him. She was hot and responsive, a lover, his
lover who hadn’t had to halt her affections, her passions, her desire of him.
Who hadn’t had to stifle her need because of fear of a
demon who wanted her as much as the soul. Who expressed her love in the most
intimate and primal of ways, and who wanted to continue to do so, wanted to move
onto the next level with their love. Wanted what every being on the planet had
as their basic right and need of the one they loved.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered again, golden eyes pleading with her liquid green ones. He was mere inches from her. It felt like miles. “Please don’t ask that of me.”
“I need you, my Angel,” she cried softly, hands framing
his face, drawing him back to her. “I can’t stand to be away from you,
my…my body needs you, everything I am needs you!”
A tear slipped free of her rigid control, a single tear tracking down her face. Angel reached to capture it, holding the perfect drop of pain and misery and love on his fingertip. He studied it for a moment before bringing the moisture to his lips, tasting her anguish, her suffering. Delicious.
Disgusted with himself, torn between needing and knowing it
was wrong, Angel pulled back again, putting as much distance between he and his
love as his aching body allowed. Every step away from her hurt, a physical ache
that made him want to fall to his knees and cry out with the pain of being away
from her.
“Angel!” Elizabeth called, an agonized whisper. “I
can’t not be around you, don’t you understand?” She took a step forward
but stopped when he stumbled backwards. “I need you; something deep, deep
within me needs you! I-I can’t live without you, and yet you’re making me do
just that!”
“I know,” he whispered back. Then he moved, moved with
lightening speed to close the distance between them, assuage the bone-deep hurt.
His lips attacked hers in a kiss that was meant to brand, to mark, to claim.
Hauling her against him, pressing into her heat, into the very center of her,
Angel poured everything in him – soul, demon, man, love, hate, obsession,
protection, need, need, needneedneed – into her.
Let it devour her as much as it was him.
“I can’t,” he told her, pressing his forehead to
hers, breathing deeply of her scent, arms still tight around her. “Don’t you
understand, Elizabeth?”
He pulled away again, and this time stepped fully out of
the comforting, needy, wanting to be there, nowhere else, circle of her arms.
Stepped back from the balcony, back from her, back from what he wanted. He
stepped back into the shadows of the room, trapped there as he always was.
“I want to lose myself in you; I want to love you until there’s nothing left of either Angel or Elizabeth but a perfect US a you and me that has no beginning and no ending. I want to put the world at your feet, give you anything and everything you want. I want you to own that world!”
He took another step back and Angel felt as if he were
tearing his heart out again. His sluggish and stolen blood protested the
movement, Angelus howled in protest, his soul tore in two, but he took another
step back from her. There really was no other choice; maybe moving in together
was a bad idea. But there was no way he’d not do it, not when he could be
thisclose to Elizabeth; to hold her, touch her – not enough, never enough –
he needed her even if it killed him.
“And I know,” he finished in a tormented whisper that
came to her from the shadows, “That if I do, if I lose myself within you as I
want, it won’t be Elizabeth and Angel. It’ll be a demon Elizabeth and
Angelus.”
With that he turned, leaving a heartbroken woman on the
balcony to watch the last rays of a once spectacular sunset alone. “No it
won’t be, my love,” she whispered as she felt him leave the mansion.
“It’ll still be us. I’ll still love you; I’ll still love only you.”
Elizabeth cried out, then, shouting her pain and anger to
the world. A roar – at losing, at the loss of her Mate, at the loss of him
– followed Angel. And as Angel left the mansion’s grounds, as he stalked
into the night to rid himself of something that could never be gone, that
shouted cry of need and pain followed him.
He couldn’t out run it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to
anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A
Spike watched Angel disappear into the Hellmouth night.
He couldn’t help the smile on his lips as the sound of
Elizabeth’s cry echoed around him. What was worse, he wondered as he lighted a
cigarette, inhaling deeply of the nicotine-laced smoke. A GrandSire who was
crazed because he couldn’t have the chit he wanted because it just wasn’t
done? Or one who had everything he wanted, Slayer lover, power, and a reunited
family?
Spike knew the answer to that and felt something within him
stir at it. He knew what he wanted, knew what Elizabeth wanted, even if she had
no idea the consequences her actions would bring.
By now his Dru was on her way, no doubt excited over the prospect of a reunited family. It was going to be wonderful, Spike thought as Elizabeth’s cries continued unabated.
It was just like old times.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B
William and Drusilla watched Buffy disappear into the London night.
Drusilla smiled at her William, a soft kiss on his lips as
she laughed at the blackened sky. This was better than she thought! It was all
so bright it blinded her; all so dark it swallowed her. And still, Drusilla
wanted more.
“He’s got her, my precious, he’s got her. And we’re
going to rule it all.”
“Rule what, pet?” William flinched as the sound of
Angelus’ roar echoed around them. What had the chit done to his GrandSire to
cause him to act this way?
“It all, my darling, we’re going to be a family, a real family!”
“What of Darla?” William asked, drawing Drusilla’s
hand through his arm and strolling in the opposite direction. “Weren’t we a
family with her?”
“Poor GrandMummy, she’s all alone,” Drusilla sighed,
“She doesn’t realize that she could join us, too. Doesn’t realize that she
could have a place in our family but not with daddy. But she can’t, because
she’s not going to.”
William smiled. The times, they were a-changing and it was going to be a wonderful new world.
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