"Demon's Discovery"

Author: Claudia D. Christian
Email: CHANDRA1C@aol.com

my reflection, dirty mirror
there's no connection to myself
i'm your lover, i'm your zero
i'm the face in your dreams of glass
so save your prayers
for when we're really gonna need 'em
throw out your cares and fly
wanna go for a ride?

she's the one for me
she's all i really need
cause she's the one for me
emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness
and cleanliness is godliness, and god is empty just like me
intoxicated with the madness, i'm in love with my sadness
bullshit fakers, enchanted kingdoms
the fashion victims chew their charcoal teeth
i never let on, that i was on a sinking ship
i never let on that i was down
you blame yourself, for what you can't ignore
you blame yourself for wanting more
she's the one for me
she's all i really need
she's the one for me
she's my one and only
- "Zero" by The Smashing Pumpkins from their album "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness"

Angelus stood in the shadows, melting in the background.

Silent and alert. And watching.

Always watching her.

The pulsating throb of the music that beat into his ears and filled his body was but a dull mockery of what he felt within when he looked out over the crowd and saw her. Her scent and taste was irrevocably stamped into his senses. There was not one piece of her that he, Angelus, had not touched, had not tasted, had not taken unforgettable ecstasy in.

When the demon retook possession of his body, Angelus took immense pleasure in tormenting Buffy. He stalked her, her friends, and attacked any boys who she showed the slightest interest in. The only reason why they never died was because Buffy was always there to stop him. She couldn't kill him, so she kept a close watch on him and made sure he could never kill her pathetic dates or any other innocents.

The Slayer always devoted to her duties, regardless of personal cost.

He knew how bitterly painful it was for her to encounter him. He looked like Angel, sounded like Angel, but he was no Angel.

While being unable to kill him, Buffy did receive a certain comfort from containing him, using that comfort to assuage the disappointment within for being unable to look past his physical form and fulfill her duty. Night after night, she held the upper hand because she prevented him from doing what his nature required him to do.

Though he had rejoined his vampire fold, he failed to rise to the proportions of past glory because of the strength and skill of the Slayer. It was inevitable, he being an agent of evil and all, to always be thwarted in the fight of the undead versus the living.

Or so he allowed Buffy to think.

While a kill was always pleasurable, it was the battle with the Slayer that made his passions sing. The rough physical contact between them only whetted his appetite for her. He was able to throw, slap, punch, and kick her and not only could she take it, she would always come back for more.

His intentions were never to kill her, at least not yet, but to make her suffer. She needed to suffer for making him her pathetic pet when he had a soul.

She needed to suffer simply because he wished it. And he being Angelus, he made sure she underwent much suffering. But as she suffered so did he, for she became his obsession; his every thought consisted of Buffy.

His torments were by no means confined to the physical pains of their nightly matches. No, Buffy could take the pain of the body, it was her heart that was vulnerable.

Especially to him.

She loved him with every fiber of her being in a way that even she could not understand, but that he understood all too clearly. In fact, he taunted her with it at every turn. She was allowed no escape from her weakness.

How he had reveled in it! Her agony was his ambrosia. Every wince, every tear, every sob---all for him.

Buffy wanted him to be so much like Angel, the one she had loved and lost.

And she despised herself for being drawn to him, Angelus, the one she was supposed to hate.

Hate. What a fickle and undeniably perverse emotion.

Oh if he ravaged Sunnydale, killing every mortal in his path, Buffy would have forced herself to try to kill him and he knew it. As joyful as the carnage would have been, frankly he yawned at the idea. Been there, done that. Besides, mass destruction would make his task of seducing the Slayer a bit difficult.

And to top it all off, that's what she, the Watcher, and her brat pack would have and did expect from him. Now, why should he do what was expected of him? No, the way to throw Buffy off balance and keep her further in his grip was to keep from killing. At least in Sunnydale.

Regardless, Buffy had proved to be stubborn and unwilling to give in her obvious desires. Finally, on a storm-driven night did she submit to him and to their common passions. It had been incredible. So incredible that he did not want to acknowledge how powerful her hold over him had become and all after one night.

After the beginning of their affair, he began showing up at the cemetary while she patrolled, but not with the same intent as before. A couple of times he even helped her when the fight got too thick with vampires. Spike and Druscilla sure as Hell didn't appreciate that, but he was able to pacify them with promises of the Slayer's death. Spike and Dru. Damn, he fucked up, but fucked up good with those two!

Thinking past that unsavory situation, Angelus remembered how he painstakingly began to break Buffy's will. He began entering her home in no set pattern. Sometimes he'd climb into the window in her room and wait for her to come in. Other times he'd use the front door and wait in the quaint living room with her clueless mother and chit-chat about how Buffy really was benefitting from being tutored in history.

Just thinking about her reaction to finding him there brought a twinkle to his old Irish eyes. Buffy tried to bluff that she felt no fear or anxiety over his presence in her home while her mother was there (why would she fear him when she could take him out at any time?) but she never fooled him.

Her fear manifested itself in many ways that were simple for a creature such as himself to easily detect. The way she fidgeted as she sat on her bed or the sofa, the way she covertly watched him, the way her life's blood would accelerate through her body, causing the vein on her neck to pulse rapidly, were all too telling signs of her wariness.

Buffy had had every right to be wary of him. Occasionally, every demonic impulse of his demanded tht he drain the blood out of her, for she was a human and he a vampire. Little did she know that it was his obsessive lust that kept her alive during those moments.

It was most strongly at these times that Buffy lulled herself into believing that maybe he was more Angel than Angelus.

Oh how he loved disabusing her of that notion! Even so, she could not help but be drawn to him, Angelus.

Over the course of a few weeks he had carefully laid the groundwork for his seduction of the Slayer. And it had worked, but then he had gotten greedy. He had wanted everything she had to offer. He wanted her submission, her blind desire, but most importantly---her love.

When she surrendered her heart to him, Angelus, he would possess Buffy for eternity. With her knowingly being the mistress of a demon, and furthermore, in LOVE with the very same demon, his control over her physically and mentally would be undeniable to all.

In time his plans became realized. Buffy the Vampire Slayer became the slave of a vampire. The inner torment she underwent was pure sweetness for him. She felt shame and hatred for allowing him into her and for allowing him to treat her gently or harshly dependant on his whim. It didn't matter to him for in the end she always crawled into his bed. Just remembering every lustful, passionate moment between them made him so hard that it bordered on pain.

Pain.

A wicked grin twisted his sensuous lips. He taught Buffy numerous things, including to crave the pain almost, if not more, than the pleasure. He had molded the Slayer to be the perfect concubine. His concubine.

Things could have continued the way they were for all of eternity as far as he was concerned. In all his two and a half centuries he had never encountered anyone who could fulfill every dark and twisted desire of his like Buffy could. His kind were incapable of feeling human love, but he felt the closest thing to it for Buffy: passion.

His passion for Buffy consumed him. Nothing could satisfy his ever-present hunger for her, he even played with others in an effort to banish his need for the Slayer. In his brilliant quest to enslave her, he hadn't counted on also becoming her slave. He had thought that once he had Buffy, his obsession for her would fade, eventually to disappear. Then he would allow Druscilla or Spike to kill her. Everyone would be happy: his lust would be satisfied and he wouldn't be in betrayal of his kind plus the Slayer would be dead.

Problem was that he didn't want to see Buffy laying dead at his feet anymore. How could he keep her and keep his fold from eventually seeing through his excuses? At the time he was the most powerful among them, but Spike's infirmary wouldn't be permanent and he had a real strong itch to kill Buffy, so what was he to do?

Unfortunately his hand became forced one night. The choice between Buffy and his own needed to be made. That night Angelus took a step that would never be forgotten by either human or undead. He committed the unpardonable crime of destroying his own kind to save her, a Slayer. His Slayer.

Did she ever recognize the significance of his sacrifice? No. That night his faithless bitch ran. She left Sunnydale and never looked back.

Moving through the crowd, Angelus' gaze never left sight of Buffy. He had followed her to this club from her apartment building. It was sheer chance that he even saw her leave her building. He had followed a questionable lead that placed her in the area, but he hadn't really expected to find her here in this city.

At first he couldn't believe that after all this time he had finally found her. But he didn't doubt the way his body reacted at her sight. It was as if all this time without her he had been incomplete. Upon seeing her he felt whole, his primal urges recognized her as his mate. Several times he was tempted to seize her off the streets, but each time he forced his impulses down. There was too high of a chance that she could elude him. No, he'd wait until she went home.

His wintry gaze narrowed as he watched the young punk dancing with Buffy grab her hips and pull her close. Pure menace radiated from Angelus, causing several girls who were approaching him to scatter away. From the way Buffy's body suddenly tensed, it seemed she also sensed danger.

Good. An evil look of satisfaction transformed his face to one of unholy beauty. She had every reason in the world to feel fear. He hoped she lived and breathed in fear.

Of him.

Of the night when her time of existing without him ended.

His eyes followed her hasty exit out of the club. Satisfaction filled his cold heart with its' special warmth. Casually stolling through the crush of humanity he felt a twinge of thirst. No, he'd go a little thirsty tonight. Besides he had a different thirst to slake with the Slayer. Afterall, it had taken him two years to find her. Why hold off the joyful reunion any longer than necessary?

Reaching outside his keen vampire gaze saw Buffy in a cab a mile up the road. Enjoy this time while you can, lover, because it's your last moments alone. And just like that, he melted into the night.

And unbeknownst to Buffy, back into her life.

The End

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