FEEDBACK: Author ernestly desires feedback ************************************* I was born too late to ever have the pleasure of knowing Master William Shakespeare, but his plays were popular even in the backwater dump that called itself my hometown. I never really had the leisure to truly appreciate them of course, the education that sixteen-year olds are forced to endure in this day was a luxury for the manure grimed son of a pig farmer. Two centuries is a long time to indulge in, and I even found time for some reading. However, I never really understood Romeo before tonight. See, the thing about the Montague boy. He falls in violent lust with a girl he sees coming down the stairs, but his passion knows no bounds only after, and mark this well, after he finds out she is the scion of the family that has a blood feud with his. I wonder how Shakespeare knew? What we love the most is the lure of the forbidden. I braved a convent full of crosses for the sweet and innocent Dru, precisely because she was taboo. I found her boring after she was completely and totally enslaved, my mental minion. The Slayer on the other hand, makes me feel like a modern day Prometheus, playing with the fire of the gods. Oh, and how sweet to burn... She can't avoid me forever. In fact, I've just left her a present that guarantees she will come after me tonight. Poor Janna Candelabrum or whatever her name was. I don't suppose she ever got that prissy librarian to shed those inhibiting tweeds for her. Perhaps, he has a taste for necrophilia. I did go to all that trouble with the wine and the roses. Would be a shame to waste them. Personally, though, I prefer my corpses to be animate. Ah, she's picking up the phone. Glazed look, crying Willow, good, good, looks like everything is set for tonight's party. Better get back and make sure the hors d'hoeuvres are ready. **************************************** Oh my God. She's dead. A little part of me is saying, gosh Buffy, that's a really lame litany for the deceased. It's not like I really enjoyed her company recently, but knowing she's gone forever has revived the guilt and shame that's been my constant companion ever since Angelus returned. For a while I could bury it by pretending it was all her fault, but the truth is, it's me, it's always been me. She served her family to the end, carried out her duty regardless of the personal cost. Not like me. And now she's dead. And it's, surprise, surprise, my fault for letting Angelus live. Giles. A pang of fear shoots through me, so intensely sharp that I almost check to see if I'm bleeding. What will Giles do to-to himself now? As I leave to find my Watcher, I try not to remember if the fear was for Giles or for...him. ********************************* Flaming bombs from an incensed Watcher, fighting with Buffy, Spike almost burnt to a crisp, my night couldn't have been better. Except that I now have to find a new place to live. "Angel." Dru whines behind me. "Quiet, love. He's trying to think. Takes a lot out of you when you're not used to it." Spike the snide. Suddenly, I'm tired of their cold company. I want, I need the fire. My incandescent Slayer glowing in the heat of passion. Despire my philosophy on the attraction between us, I wonder if she would have killed me tonight if Giles hadn't been near immolation. I want to feel her hands on my body again, whether in love or hate. So I leave. The night is cool and inviting. I stop for a quick snack to whet my appetite. Buffy, do I have plans for tonight. Romeo must have felt the same heady thrill of power, knowing he turn the brains of his hated foe into mush with one kiss. I'm going to make her lose control over her mind, make the needs of her body overcome the Slayer senses that will scream at her to stop seducing the demon and stake him. No, honey, only one of us is going to get something shoved into her tonight. Saliva and blood mix in an anticipatory rush as I reach her window. Twice past I've come to tease her into quickening for me, and both times I have left without any satisfaction. Not tonight. Her silhouette is inviting as she paces the floor of her room. A sudden realization. She barred me from entering. I have to get her out here somehow. A new game suggests itself to me and I can barely keep the grin off my face. Oh, this will be fun. I hope she didn't lie about attending every English literature class this semester. Clearing my throat, and sobering my face, I begin. ******************************* "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and Juliet is the sun. Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she..." The words break past the bariers in my brain, making me conscious that I am in my room listening to a voice recite poetry. At this hour? Turning to the window, I see him standing on the grass, face utterly serious, the words being spoken to me with a depth of emotion that I had never seen in Angel before. A surge of painful anger reminds me of what he has done. Of who he has hurt tonight, of my own responsibility for the death of Janna Calendar and the tears in Giles' eyes. "Monster..." the word escapes in a sigh before I even notice it is gone. He raises his eyes to my face, impaling me with their darkness. "She speaks! Speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night being o'er my head as is a winged messenger of heaven." Rage, full fledged and white-hot fills me now. Does he think that he can just waltz in here after killing Ms. Calendar and I'll play his stupid games again? That I'll forget the look on Giles' face? He thinks that I'd betray everything I've even been taught just because he's spoiling some sappy lines from Shakespeare. Hysterical laughter nearly chokes me. Wooing the maiden, Angelus style. Murder, mayhem, and a little bit of poetry to spice up the occasion. Whatever happened to dim lighting and music? The wrath focuses to a pinpoint, as I remember Giles sobbing into my shoulder as he told me of how he found the remains of Jenny Calendar tastefully splayed on his bed, blood and roses equally staining his bedspread. The stake in my hand feels comfortingly solid as I spring out the window. *************************************** I stop as she lands before me, breathing heavily. This is what I came here for tonight. She smiles and kicks me in the groin. Pain, dark red and lancing fills my head and I have to double up to contain it. Her booted foot catches my temple and another bolt of agony shoots through to keep the first company. I try to rise, but stop myself, fighting to control the beast that wants to tear her open and drink her dry. This is not a contest of strength. We are well matched and if it came down to a fight, I'm not sure I'd win. But this way, I'm bound to. All of my strength now goes to keep from blacking out as blow after blow lands on my body, breaking bones and savaging skin. Her attack is concentrated and well timed. No sooner does my vampire healing knit a bone, than she's cracking it again. This agony is exquisite. ************************************** He's not fighting back. Fight back, damn you. I can't kill you like this. No, don't just lie there and let me abuse you. Show me who you are Angelus. Give me the strength to kill you. No, don't keep looking at me like that. I'll close those eyes for you. There, now why don't you try to return the favor. Show me some hate, some anger, try and hurt me, like you hurt Ms. Calendar. Don't take every bit silently; give me a scream of apin, something to tell me I'm getting through to you. Where's the demon gone? Where's the merciless killer? Cry out you bastard; don't let me vent my anger on your unresisting form. Give me a reason to kill you. I need a reason to keep on hating you. Please. Please. Don't make me stop. Please. ******************************************** The pain. It's all I can think of. The pain. Overwhelming. It takes a while before I realize she's stopped fighting me, and longer to open my swollen eyes. She's kneeling on the grass, unused stake in hand, confused and trapped, like a sheep that's just realised it has almost killed a wolf. Wanting to run, but unable to leave. Shock, despair, and, and yes, that's remorse I see on her face. A grin begins to form an hope she can't see it below all that caked blood. It was worth it, Angelus, me boy. I open my eyes and look at her. "Got all you wanted, Buffy?" I can't keep the pain and weariness out of my voice. Her eyes widen to hear me use her name and not her title. Good. "Angel?" Her voice is tentative and slightly, very slightly hopeful. "The one and only." Shock and disbelief flood her face and she crawls over to my side, still holding the stake. "How...what? Who-are you?" I close my eyes, refusing to answer. Of course that doesn't stop her from continuing, it never stopped her from asking questions. "Are...are you...why did you let me do this to you? Angel?" I wince at the sound. Never did like the name. Play along, Angelus, play along. "Nothing I didn't ask for." If anything else was needed to convince her, that certainly did the trick. Putting out a reverent hand, she touches my cheek ever so lightly. I groan, partly in character and partly in remembered pain. "Oh, Angel," she whispers, running her hand whisper soft over my jaw. Quickly I put out my hand to grasp hers. Startled, she looks back at me. "The name's Angelus." She is unsure of how to react. "Remember who I really am, what I've done." Her face softens again. Obviously another phrase hit the jackpot. Holding my hand tightly in hers, she seeks to comfort me. I can literally read her mind, her credulous Slayer mind that has cast its own fluffy pink interpretation on recent events. Oh, this is almost too easy, my mind howls silently. "It wasn't your fault, Angel-Angelus. Not your fault. How were you to know?" Her other hand has ten free fingers as my forehead is learning. She traces the eyebrows and softly cups my chin. Eyes sparkling with tears of-happiness? Sympathy? Who the hell cares? as her lips claim mine. That first kiss is tremulous and sweet, until she introduces a new factor into the equation, teasing me to come out and play. Instead, I pull back, till our faces are only centimeters apart. "No, Buffy. How can you do this when you know-" further speech and breath is cut off by a hungry Slayer who has suddenly decided that mouth is the ultimate snack. Groaning into her mouth, one hand slides over her back, coaxing her itno lying fully atop my length. The weight settles comfortably, nudging certain areas to life again. I deepen the kiss hoping she won't notice. Passion drugged, she stops for oxygen and looks starry eyed into my face. That won't do. I pull her down to me again, kissing her with the passion I normally reserve for a blood-fest after weeks of starvation. My hand slides under her shirt and traces lines on her back until she gasps into my mouth. Taking pity on her condition, I move to her directions. "There-" "Like this?" "Yesss..." "Tell me." "No...yes...[sudden gasp] yes!" Slow and sweet turns to hot and urgent kisses and fumbling with clasps. I'm ready to curse at times, but I always forget to form the words because her lips are on mine, and hey, why waste my mouth? Finally, I'm on top, nearly dying-that's a laugh, asking her for the words that will make my night complete. "Are you sure?" Her answer is in a swift impaling motion that leaves me with no choice but to finish what we started. And then repeat it again. ******************************* Afterwards, we're on the grass, and I finish another long, leisurely kiss, plundering her mouth for whatever she might have held back tonight. Nope, nothing left. Its time. I rise up on one elbow, and carelessly trace the curve of her cheekbone. She looks at me, with a question in her eyes, the question I've been waiting to answer all night. "Yup, it's still me, Buffy. It's still Angelus." Getting to my feet, I yawn and stretch. "Dawn's coming. Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?" I look down at her, "After all, you do have a funeral to attend today." The look of shock on her face is priceless. "Angel?" I tsk softly. "Angelus, Slayer. At least keep a straight record of which one you're screwing." Her lips form a silent 'ohmigod'. I have to correct any lingering misconceptions she might be harbouring. "Don't worry, Slayer. It wasn't the 'one moment of true dah dah dah' again. It's been me, Angelus, all night." Shock must be paralysing her, for she makes no attempt to get to her feet. "You lied to me." "No, I've been screw-pew-lously truthful with you all the time." I lean down to her face, our noses nearly touching. "The name's Angelus. Remember who I am, what I've done." I straighten up, smiling happily. "You see, Slayer, I want you to remember. You fell quite happily into my arms, Angelus' arms, didn't you? Hmm, I wonder if Ms. Candelabrum is turning over in her grave right now? Oh, wait, I forgot. She doesn't have a grave. Yet." She gets up, albeit slowly and painfully. "You let me hit you." I shrug. "Well, fair's fair, Slayer. Figured you'd want to do it some time, and you'd probably be too sore after." I rake her up and down with my eyes. "And anyways, that's what made you fool yourself." "You bastard." She rasped. "Nope, I was legitimate, more's the pity." I'm about to leave, but I turn back for one last bit of information. "Oh, by the way, Buffy. About the beating you gave me. I wonder if you've ever realised just how-arousing-pain can be?" ************************************* There aren't many mourners left at the funeral when I finally reach. Giles is putting a bunch of flowers on her grave. I stand next to him silently for a while. Busy with my own turmoil, I'm not paying attention when he begins speaking. "I've buried too many people. But Jenny was the first I've ever loved." Self-hatred mingles with the grief and love I feel for this man who has been more than a father to me. Oh, Giles, what have I done, to you, to all of us? No, I tamp down the guilt, saving it for another time and place, after my job is done I speak the words that I never knew I could say. "I'm...sorry, I'm sorry I didn't...kill him for you...for her...when I had the chance. I wasn't ready." But that was then. This is now. "But I think I'm ready now." ~End
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon is the man who owns the characters of Buffy and Angelus. OH, what we could do with them if he didn't...
RATING: R. Most definitely do not want the kiddies reading this. What are they doing at this site anyhow?
SUMMARY: My only love sprung from my only hate...prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy Romeo & Juliet, courtesy of Master Shakespeare. B/A(us), located within the Passion timeframe.